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diff --git a/12750-h/12750-h.htm b/12750-h/12750-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..800410e --- /dev/null +++ b/12750-h/12750-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5715 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + The Stolen Bacillus and Other Incidents, by H.G. Wells + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12750 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE STOLEN BACILLUS AND OTHER INCIDENTS + </h1> + <h2> + By H.G. Wells + </h2> + <h4> + Methuen & Co. + </h4> + <h4> + 36 Essex Street, Strand, London + </h4> + <h5> + 1895 + </h5> + <h4> + TO + </h4> + <h4> + H.B. MARRIOTT WATSON + </h4> + <p> + Most of the stories in this collection appeared originally in the <i>Pall + Mall Budget</i>, two were published in the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>, and + one in <i>St James’s Gazette</i>. I desire to make the usual + acknowledgments. The third story in the book was, I find, reprinted by the + <i>Observatory</i>, and the “Lord of the Dynamos” by the + Melbourne <i>Leader</i>. + </p> + <p> + H.G. WELLS. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE STOLEN BACILLUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE FLOWERING OF THE STRANGE ORCHID </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> IN THE AVU OBSERVATORY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE TRIUMPHS OF A TAXIDERMIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A DEAL IN OSTRICHES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THROUGH A WINDOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE TEMPTATION OF HARRINGAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE FLYING MAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE DIAMOND MAKER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> AEPYORNIS ISLAND </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE REMARKABLE CASE OF DAVIDSON’S EYES + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE LORD OF THE DYNAMOS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> THE HAMMERPOND PARK BURGLARY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> A MOTH—GENUS NOVO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> THE TREASURE IN THE FOREST </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STOLEN BACILLUS + </h2> + <p> + “This again,” said the Bacteriologist, slipping a glass slide + under the microscope, “is a preparation of the celebrated Bacillus + of cholera—the cholera germ.” + </p> + <p> + The pale-faced man peered down the microscope. He was evidently not + accustomed to that kind of thing, and held a limp white hand over his + disengaged eye. “I see very little,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Touch this screw,” said the Bacteriologist; “perhaps + the microscope is out of focus for you. Eyes vary so much. Just the + fraction of a turn this way or that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I see,” said the visitor. “Not so very much to + see after all. Little streaks and shreds of pink. And yet those little + particles, those mere atomies, might multiply and devastate a city! + Wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + He stood up, and releasing the glass slip from the microscope, held it in + his hand towards the window. “Scarcely visible,” he said, + scrutinising the preparation. He hesitated. “Are these—alive? + Are they dangerous now?” + </p> + <p> + “Those have been stained and killed,” said the Bacteriologist. + “I wish, for my own part, we could kill and stain every one of them + in the universe.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” the pale man said with a slight smile, “that + you scarcely care to have such things about you in the living—in the + active state?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, we are obliged to,” said the Bacteriologist. + “Here, for instance—” He walked across the room and took + up one of several sealed tubes. “Here is the living thing. This is a + cultivation of the actual living disease bacteria.” He hesitated, + “Bottled cholera, so to speak.” + </p> + <p> + A slight gleam of satisfaction appeared momentarily in the face of the + pale man. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a deadly thing to have in your possession,” he + said, devouring the little tube with his eyes. The Bacteriologist watched + the morbid pleasure in his visitor’s expression. This man, who had + visited him that afternoon with a note of introduction from an old friend, + interested him from the very contrast of their dispositions. The lank + black hair and deep grey eyes, the haggard expression and nervous manner, + the fitful yet keen interest of his visitor were a novel change from the + phlegmatic deliberations of the ordinary scientific worker with whom the + Bacteriologist chiefly associated. It was perhaps natural, with a hearer + evidently so impressionable to the lethal nature of his topic, to take the + most effective aspect of the matter. + </p> + <p> + He held the tube in his hand thoughtfully. “Yes, here is the + pestilence imprisoned. Only break such a little tube as this into a supply + of drinking-water, say to these minute particles of life that one must + needs stain and examine with the highest powers of the microscope even to + see, and that one can neither smell nor taste—say to them, ‘Go + forth, increase and multiply, and replenish the cisterns,’ and death—mysterious, + untraceable death, death swift and terrible, death full of pain and + indignity—would be released upon this city, and go hither and + thither seeking his victims. Here he would take the husband from the wife, + here the child from its mother, here the statesman from his duty, and here + the toiler from his trouble. He would follow the water-mains, creeping + along streets, picking out and punishing a house here and a house there + where they did not boil their drinking-water, creeping into the wells of + the mineral-water makers, getting washed into salad, and lying dormant in + ices. He would wait ready to be drunk in the horse-troughs, and by unwary + children in the public fountains. He would soak into the soil, to reappear + in springs and wells at a thousand unexpected places. Once start him at + the water supply, and before we could ring him in, and catch him again, he + would have decimated the metropolis.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly. He had been told rhetoric was his weakness. + </p> + <p> + “But he is quite safe here, you know—quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + The pale-faced man nodded. His eyes shone. He cleared his throat. “These + Anarchist—rascals,” said he, “are fools, blind fools—to + use bombs when this kind of thing is attainable. I think—” + </p> + <p> + A gentle rap, a mere light touch of the finger-nails was heard at the + door. The Bacteriologist opened it. “Just a minute, dear,” + whispered his wife. + </p> + <p> + When he re-entered the laboratory his visitor was looking at his watch. + “I had no idea I had wasted an hour of your time,” he said. + “Twelve minutes to four. I ought to have left here by half-past + three. But your things were really too interesting. No, positively I + cannot stop a moment longer. I have an engagement at four.” + </p> + <p> + He passed out of the room reiterating his thanks, and the Bacteriologist + accompanied him to the door, and then returned thoughtfully along the + passage to his laboratory. He was musing on the ethnology of his visitor. + Certainly the man was not a Teutonic type nor a common Latin one. “A + morbid product, anyhow, I am afraid,” said the Bacteriologist to + himself. “How he gloated on those cultivations of disease-germs!” + A disturbing thought struck him. He turned to the bench by the + vapour-bath, and then very quickly to his writing-table. Then he felt + hastily in his pockets, and then rushed to the door. “I may have put + it down on the hall table,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie!” he shouted hoarsely in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” came a remote voice. + </p> + <p> + “Had I anything in my hand when I spoke to you, dear, just now?” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dear, because I remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Blue ruin!” cried the Bacteriologist, and incontinently ran + to the front door and down the steps of his house to the street. + </p> + <p> + Minnie, hearing the door slam violently, ran in alarm to the window. Down + the street a slender man was getting into a cab. The Bacteriologist, + hatless, and in his carpet slippers, was running and gesticulating wildly + towards this group. One slipper came off, but he did not wait for it. + “He has gone <i>mad</i>!” said Minnie; “it’s that + horrid science of his”; and, opening the window, would have called + after him. The slender man, suddenly glancing round, seemed struck with + the same idea of mental disorder. He pointed hastily to the + Bacteriologist, said something to the cabman, the apron of the cab + slammed, the whip swished, the horse’s feet clattered, and in a + moment cab, and Bacteriologist hotly in pursuit, had receded up the vista + of the roadway and disappeared round the corner. + </p> + <p> + Minnie remained straining out of the window for a minute. Then she drew + her head back into the room again. She was dumbfounded. “Of course + he is eccentric,” she meditated. “But running about London—in + the height of the season, too—in his socks!” A happy thought + struck her. She hastily put her bonnet on, seized his shoes, went into the + hall, took down his hat and light overcoat from the pegs, emerged upon the + doorstep, and hailed a cab that opportunely crawled by. “Drive me up + the road and round Havelock Crescent, and see if we can find a gentleman + running about in a velveteen coat and no hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Velveteen coat, ma’am, and no ‘at. Very good, ma’am.” + And the cabman whipped up at once in the most matter-of-fact way, as if he + drove to this address every day in his life. + </p> + <p> + Some few minutes later the little group of cabmen and loafers that + collects round the cabmen’s shelter at Haverstock Hill were startled + by the passing of a cab with a ginger-coloured screw of a horse, driven + furiously. + </p> + <p> + They were silent as it went by, and then as it receded—“That’s + ‘Arry Icks. Wot’s <i>he</i> got?” said the stout + gentleman known as Old Tootles. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a-using his whip, he is, <i>to</i> rights,” said + the ostler boy. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” said poor old Tommy Byles; “here’s + another bloomin’ loonatic. Blowed if there aint.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s old George,” said old Tootles, “and he’s + drivin’ a loonatic, <i>as</i> you say. Aint he a-clawin’ out + of the keb? Wonder if he’s after Arry ‘Icks?” + </p> + <p> + The group round the cabmen’s shelter became animated. Chorus: + “Go it, George!” “It’s a race.” “You’ll + ketch ’em!” “Whip up!” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a goer, she is!” said the ostler boy. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me giddy!” cried old Tootles. “Here! <i>I’m</i> + a-goin’ to begin in a minute. Here’s another comin’. If + all the kebs in Hampstead aint gone mad this morning!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fieldmale this time,” said the ostler boy. + </p> + <p> + “She’s a followin’ <i>him</i>,” said old Tootles. + “Usually the other way about.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s she got in her ‘and?” + </p> + <p> + “Looks like a ‘igh ‘at.” + </p> + <p> + “What a bloomin’ lark it is! Three to one on old George,” + said the ostler boy. “Nexst!” + </p> + <p> + Minnie went by in a perfect roar of applause. She did not like it but she + felt that she was doing her duty, and whirled on down Haverstock Hill and + Camden Town High Street with her eyes ever intent on the animated back + view of old George, who was driving her vagrant husband so + incomprehensibly away from her. + </p> + <p> + The man in the foremost cab sat crouched in the corner, his arms tightly + folded, and the little tube that contained such vast possibilities of + destruction gripped in his hand. His mood was a singular mixture of fear + and exultation. Chiefly he was afraid of being caught before he could + accomplish his purpose, but behind this was a vaguer but larger fear of + the awfulness of his crime. But his exultation far exceeded his fear. No + Anarchist before him had ever approached this conception of his. Ravachol, + Vaillant, all those distinguished persons whose fame he had envied + dwindled into insignificance beside him. He had only to make sure of the + water supply, and break the little tube into a reservoir. How brilliantly + he had planned it, forged the letter of introduction and got into the + laboratory, and how brilliantly he had seized his opportunity! The world + should hear of him at last. All those people who had sneered at him, + neglected him, preferred other people to him, found his company + undesirable, should consider him at last. Death, death, death! They had + always treated him as a man of no importance. All the world had been in a + conspiracy to keep him under. He would teach them yet what it is to + isolate a man. What was this familiar street? Great Saint Andrew’s + Street, of course! How fared the chase? He craned out of the cab. The + Bacteriologist was scarcely fifty yards behind. That was bad. He would be + caught and stopped yet. He felt in his pocket for money, and found + half-a-sovereign. This he thrust up through the trap in the top of the cab + into the man’s face. “More,” he shouted, “if only + we get away.” + </p> + <p> + The money was snatched out of his hand. “Right you are,” said + the cabman, and the trap slammed, and the lash lay along the glistening + side of the horse. The cab swayed, and the Anarchist, half-standing under + the trap, put the hand containing the little glass tube upon the apron to + preserve his balance. He felt the brittle thing crack, and the broken half + of it rang upon the floor of the cab. He fell back into the seat with a + curse, and stared dismally at the two or three drops of moisture on the + apron. + </p> + <p> + He shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Well! I suppose I shall be the first. <i>Phew</i>! Anyhow, I shall + be a Martyr. That’s something. But it is a filthy death, + nevertheless. I wonder if it hurts as much as they say.” + </p> + <p> + Presently a thought occurred to him—he groped between his feet. A + little drop was still in the broken end of the tube, and he drank that to + make sure. It was better to make sure. At any rate, he would not fail. + </p> + <p> + Then it dawned upon him that there was no further need to escape the + Bacteriologist. In Wellington Street he told the cabman to stop, and got + out. He slipped on the step, and his head felt queer. It was rapid stuff + this cholera poison. He waved his cabman out of existence, so to speak, + and stood on the pavement with his arms folded upon his breast awaiting + the arrival of the Bacteriologist. There was something tragic in his pose. + The sense of imminent death gave him a certain dignity. He greeted his + pursuer with a defiant laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Vive l’Anarchie! You are too late, my friend. I have drunk + it. The cholera is abroad!” + </p> + <p> + The Bacteriologist from his cab beamed curiously at him through his + spectacles. “You have drunk it! An Anarchist! I see now.” He + was about to say something more, and then checked himself. A smile hung in + the corner of his mouth. He opened the apron of his cab as if to descend, + at which the Anarchist waved him a dramatic farewell and strode off + towards Waterloo Bridge, carefully jostling his infected body against as + many people as possible. The Bacteriologist was so preoccupied with the + vision of him that he scarcely manifested the slightest surprise at the + appearance of Minnie upon the pavement with his hat and shoes and + overcoat. “Very good of you to bring my things,” he said, and + remained lost in contemplation of the receding figure of the Anarchist. + </p> + <p> + “You had better get in,” he said, still staring. Minnie felt + absolutely convinced now that he was mad, and directed the cabman home on + her own responsibility. “Put on my shoes? Certainly dear,” + said he, as the cab began to turn, and hid the strutting black figure, now + small in the distance, from his eyes. Then suddenly something grotesque + struck him, and he laughed. Then he remarked, “It is really very + serious, though.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, that man came to my house to see me, and he is an + Anarchist. No—don’t faint, or I cannot possibly tell you the + rest. And I wanted to astonish him, not knowing he was an Anarchist, and + took up a cultivation of that new species of Bacterium I was telling you + of, that infest, and I think cause, the blue patches upon various monkeys; + and like a fool, I said it was Asiatic cholera. And he ran away with it to + poison the water of London, and he certainly might have made things look + blue for this civilised city. And now he has swallowed it. Of course, I + cannot say what will happen, but you know it turned that kitten blue, and + the three puppies—in patches, and the sparrow—bright blue. But + the bother is, I shall have all the trouble and expense of preparing some + more. + </p> + <p> + “Put on my coat on this hot day! Why? Because we might meet Mrs + Jabber. My dear, Mrs Jabber is not a draught. But why should I wear a coat + on a hot day because of Mrs—. Oh! <i>very</i> well.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLOWERING OF THE STRANGE ORCHID + </h2> + <p> + The buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour. You + have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and for the rest you + must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or your good-luck, as your + taste may incline. The plant may be moribund or dead, or it may be just a + respectable purchase, fair value for your money, or perhaps—for the + thing has happened again and again—there slowly unfolds before the + delighted eyes of the happy purchaser, day after day, some new variety, + some novel richness, a strange twist of the labellum, or some subtler + colouration or unexpected mimicry. Pride, beauty, and profit blossom + together on one delicate green spike, and, it may be, even immortality. + For the new miracle of Nature may stand in need of a new specific name, + and what so convenient as that of its discoverer? “Johnsmithia”! + There have been worse names. + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps the hope of some such happy discovery that made + Winter-Wedderburn such a frequent attendant at these sales—that + hope, and also, maybe, the fact that he had nothing else of the slightest + interest to do in the world. He was a shy, lonely, rather ineffectual man, + provided with just enough income to keep off the spur of necessity, and + not enough nervous energy to make him seek any exacting employments. He + might have collected stamps or coins, or translated Horace, or bound + books, or invented new species of diatoms. But, as it happened, he grew + orchids, and had one ambitious little hothouse. + </p> + <p> + “I have a fancy,” he said over his coffee, “that + something is going to happen to me to-day.” He spoke—as he + moved and thought—slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t say <i>that</i>!” said his housekeeper—who + was also his remote cousin. For “something happening” was a + euphemism that meant only one thing to her. + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me. I mean nothing unpleasant ... though what I + do mean I scarcely know. + </p> + <p> + “To-day,” he continued, after a pause, “Peters’ + are going to sell a batch of plants from the Andamans and the Indies. I + shall go up and see what they have. It may be I shall buy something good, + unawares. That may be it.” + </p> + <p> + He passed his cup for his second cupful of coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Are these the things collected by that poor young fellow you told + me of the other day?” asked his cousin as she filled his cup. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, and became meditative over a piece of toast. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing ever does happen to me,” he remarked presently, + beginning to think aloud. “I wonder why? Things enough happen to + other people. There is Harvey. Only the other week; on Monday he picked up + sixpence, on Wednesday his chicks all had the staggers, on Friday his + cousin came home from Australia, and on Saturday he broke his ankle. What + a whirl of excitement!—compared to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I would rather be without so much excitement,” said + his housekeeper. “It can’t be good for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s troublesome. Still ... you see, nothing ever + happens to me. When I was a little boy I never had accidents. I never fell + in love as I grew up. Never married.... I wonder how it feels to have + something happen to you, something really remarkable. + </p> + <p> + “That orchid-collector was only thirty-six—twenty years + younger than myself—when he died. And he had been married twice and + divorced once; he had had malarial fever four times, and once he broke his + thigh. He killed a Malay once, and once he was wounded by a poisoned dart. + And in the end he was killed by jungle-leeches. It must have all been very + troublesome, but then it must have been very interesting, you know—except, + perhaps, the leeches.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure it was not good for him,” said the lady, with + conviction. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not.” And then Wedderburn looked at his watch. + “Twenty-three minutes past eight. I am going up by the quarter to + twelve train, so that there is plenty of time. I think I shall wear my + alpaca jacket—it is quite warm enough—and my grey felt hat and + brown shoes. I suppose—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced out of the window at the serene sky and sunlit garden, and then + nervously at his cousin’s face. + </p> + <p> + “I think you had better take an umbrella if you are going to London,” + she said in a voice that admitted of no denial. “There’s all + between here and the station coming back.” + </p> + <p> + When he returned he was in a state of mild excitement. He had made a + purchase. It was rare that he could make up his mind quickly enough to + buy, but this time he had done so. + </p> + <p> + “There are Vandas,” he said, “and a Dendrobe and some + Palaeonophis.” He surveyed his purchases lovingly as he consumed his + soup. They were laid out on the spotless tablecloth before him, and he was + telling his cousin all about them as he slowly meandered through his + dinner. It was his custom to live all his visits to London over again in + the evening for her and his own entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “I knew something would happen to-day. And I have bought all these. + Some of them—some of them—I feel sure, do you know, that some + of them will be remarkable. I don’t know how it is, but I feel just + as sure as if someone had told me that some of these will turn out + remarkable. + </p> + <p> + “That one”—he pointed to a shrivelled rhizome—“was + not identified. It may be a Palaeonophis—or it may not. It may be a + new species, or even a new genus. And it was the last that poor Batten + ever collected.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like the look of it,” said his housekeeper. + “It’s such an ugly shape.” + </p> + <p> + “To me it scarcely seems to have a shape.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like those things that stick out,” said his + housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “It shall be put away in a pot to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks,” said the housekeeper, “like a spider + shamming dead.” + </p> + <p> + Wedderburn smiled and surveyed the root with his head on one side. “It + is certainly not a pretty lump of stuff. But you can never judge of these + things from their dry appearance. It may turn out to be a very beautiful + orchid indeed. How busy I shall be to-morrow! I must see to-night just + exactly what to do with these things, and to-morrow I shall set to work.” + </p> + <p> + “They found poor Batten lying dead, or dying, in a mangrove swamp—I + forget which,” he began again presently, “with one of these + very orchids crushed up under his body. He had been unwell for some days + with some kind of native fever, and I suppose he fainted. These mangrove + swamps are very unwholesome. Every drop of blood, they say, was taken out + of him by the jungle-leeches. It may be that very plant that cost him his + life to obtain.” + </p> + <p> + “I think none the better of it for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Men must work though women may weep,” said Wedderburn with + profound gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy dying away from every comfort in a nasty swamp! Fancy being + ill of fever with nothing to take but chlorodyne and quinine—if men + were left to themselves they would live on chlorodyne and quinine—and + no one round you but horrible natives! They say the Andaman islanders are + most disgusting wretches—and, anyhow, they can scarcely make good + nurses, not having the necessary training. And just for people in England + to have orchids!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose it was comfortable, but some men seem to + enjoy that kind of thing,” said Wedderburn. “Anyhow, the + natives of his party were sufficiently civilised to take care of all his + collection until his colleague, who was an ornithologist, came back again + from the interior; though they could not tell the species of the orchid + and had let it wither. And it makes these things more interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “It makes them disgusting. I should be afraid of some of the malaria + clinging to them. And just think, there has been a dead body lying across + that ugly thing! I never thought of that before. There! I declare I cannot + eat another mouthful of dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take them off the table if you like, and put them in the + window-seat. I can see them just as well there.” + </p> + <p> + The next few days he was indeed singularly busy in his steamy little + hothouse, fussing about with charcoal, lumps of teak, moss, and all the + other mysteries of the orchid cultivator. He considered he was having a + wonderfully eventful time. In the evening he would talk about these new + orchids to his friends, and over and over again he reverted to his + expectation of something strange. + </p> + <p> + Several of the Vandas and the Dendrobium died under his care, but + presently the strange orchid began to show signs of life. He was delighted + and took his housekeeper right away from jam-making to see it at once, + directly he made the discovery. + </p> + <p> + “That is a bud,” he said, “and presently there will be a + lot of leaves there, and those little things coming out here are akrial + rootlets.” + </p> + <p> + “They look to me like little white fingers poking out of the brown,” + said his housekeeper. “I don’t like them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. They look like fingers trying to get at you. I + can’t help my likes and dislikes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know for certain, but I don’t <i>think</i> + there are any orchids I know that have akrial rootlets quite like that. It + may be my fancy, of course. You see they are a little flattened at the + ends.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like ’em,” said his housekeeper, suddenly + shivering and turning away. “I know it’s very silly of me—and + I’m very sorry, particularly as you like the thing so much. But I + can’t help thinking of that corpse.” + </p> + <p> + “But it may not be that particular plant. That was merely a guess of + mine.” + </p> + <p> + His housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. “Anyhow I don’t like + it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Wedderburn felt a little hurt at her dislike to the plant. But that did + not prevent his talking to her about orchids generally, and this orchid in + particular, whenever he felt inclined. + </p> + <p> + “There are such queer things about orchids,” he said one day; + “such possibilities of surprises. You know, Darwin studied their + fertilisation, and showed that the whole structure of an ordinary + orchid-flower was contrived in order that moths might carry the pollen + from plant to plant. Well, it seems that there are lots of orchids known + the flower of which cannot possibly be used for fertilisation in that way. + Some of the Cypripediums, for instance; there are no insects known that + can possibly fertilise them, and some of them have never be found with + seed.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do they form new plants?” + </p> + <p> + “By runners and tubers, and that kind of outgrowth. That is easily + explained. The puzzle is, what are the flowers for? + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” he added, “<i>my</i> orchid may be + something extraordinary in that way. If so I shall study it. I have often + thought of making researches as Darwin did. But hitherto I have not found + the time, or something else has happened to prevent it. The leaves are + beginning to unfold now. I do wish you would come and see them!” + </p> + <p> + But she said that the orchid-house was so hot it gave her the headache. + She had seen the plant once again, and the akrial rootlets, which were now + some of them more than a foot long, had unfortunately reminded her of + tentacles reaching out after something; and they got into her dreams, + growing after her with incredible rapidity. So that she had settled to her + entire satisfaction that she would not see that plant again, and + Wedderburn had to admire its leaves alone. They were of the ordinary broad + form, and a deep glossy green, with splashes and dots of deep red towards + the base. He knew of no other leaves quite like them. The plant was placed + on a low bench near the thermometer, and close by was a simple arrangement + by which a tap dripped on the hot-water pipes and kept the air steamy. And + he spent his afternoons now with some regularity meditating on the + approaching flowering of this strange plant. + </p> + <p> + And at last the great thing happened. Directly he entered the little glass + house he knew that the spike had burst out, although his great <i>Palaeonophis + Lowii</i> hid the corner where his new darling stood. There was a new + odour in the air, a rich, intensely sweet scent, that overpowered every + other in that crowded, steaming little greenhouse. + </p> + <p> + Directly he noticed this he hurried down to the strange orchid. And, + behold! the trailing green spikes bore now three great splashes of + blossom, from which this overpowering sweetness proceeded. He stopped + before them in an ecstasy of admiration. + </p> + <p> + The flowers were white, with streaks of golden orange upon the petals; the + heavy labellum was coiled into an intricate projection, and a wonderful + bluish purple mingled there with the gold. He could see at once that the + genus was altogether a new one. And the insufferable scent! How hot the + place was! The blossoms swam before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + He would see if the temperature was right. He made a step towards the + thermometer. Suddenly everything appeared unsteady. The bricks on the + floor were dancing up and down. Then the white blossoms, the green leaves + behind them, the whole greenhouse, seemed to sweep sideways, and then in a + curve upward. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At half-past four his cousin made the tea, according to their invariable + custom. But Wedderburn did not come in for his tea. + </p> + <p> + “He is worshipping that horrid orchid,” she told herself, and + waited ten minutes. “His watch must have stopped. I will go and call + him.” + </p> + <p> + She went straight to the hothouse, and, opening the door, called his name. + There was no reply. She noticed that the air was very close, and loaded + with an intense perfume. Then she saw something lying on the bricks + between the hot-water pipes. + </p> + <p> + For a minute, perhaps, she stood motionless. + </p> + <p> + He was lying, face upward, at the foot of the strange orchid. The + tentacle-like akrial rootlets no longer swayed freely in the air, but were + crowded together, a tangle of grey ropes, and stretched tight with their + ends closely applied to his chin and neck and hands. + </p> + <p> + She did not understand. Then she saw from under one of the exultant + tentacles upon his cheek there trickled a little thread of blood. + </p> + <p> + With an inarticulate cry she ran towards him, and tried to pull him away + from the leech-like suckers. She snapped two of these tentacles, and their + sap dripped red. + </p> + <p> + Then the overpowering scent of the blossom began to make her head reel. + How they clung to him! She tore at the tough ropes, and he and the white + inflorescence swam about her. She felt she was fainting, knew she must + not. She left him and hastily opened the nearest door, and, after she had + panted for a moment in the fresh air, she had a brilliant inspiration. She + caught up a flower-pot and smashed in the windows at the end of the + green-house. Then she re-entered. She tugged now with renewed strength at + Wedderburn’s motionless body, and brought the strange orchid + crashing to the floor. It still clung with the grimmest tenacity to its + victim. In a frenzy, she lugged it and him into the open air. + </p> + <p> + Then she thought of tearing through the sucker rootlets one by one, and in + another minute she had released him and was dragging him away from the + horror. + </p> + <p> + He was white and bleeding from a dozen circular patches. + </p> + <p> + The odd-job man was coming up the garden, amazed at the smashing of glass, + and saw her emerge, hauling the inanimate body with red-stained hands. For + a moment he thought impossible things. + </p> + <p> + “Bring some water!” she cried, and her voice dispelled his + fancies. When, with unnatural alacrity, he returned with the water, he + found her weeping with excitement, and with Wedderburn’s head upon + her knee, wiping the blood from his face. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said Wedderburn, opening his eyes + feebly, and closing them again at once. + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell Annie to come out here to me, and then go for Doctor + Haddon at once,” she said to the odd-job man so soon as he brought + the water; and added, seeing he hesitated, “I will tell you all + about it when you come back.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Wedderburn opened his eyes again, and, seeing that he was + troubled by the puzzle of his position, she explained to him, “You + fainted in the hothouse.” + </p> + <p> + “And the orchid?” + </p> + <p> + “I will see to that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Wedderburn had lost a good deal of blood, but beyond that he had suffered + no very great injury. They gave him brandy mixed with some pink extract of + meat, and carried him upstairs to bed. His housekeeper told her incredible + story in fragments to Dr Haddon. “Come to the orchid-house and see,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + The cold outer air was blowing in through the open door, and the sickly + perfume was almost dispelled. Most of the torn akrial rootlets lay already + withered amidst a number of dark stains upon the bricks. The stem of the + inflorescence was broken by the fall of the plant, and the flowers were + growing limp and brown at the edges of the petals. The doctor stooped + towards it, then saw that one of the akrial rootlets still stirred feebly, + and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the strange orchid still lay there, black now and + putrescent. The door banged intermittently in the morning breeze, and all + the array of Wedderburn’s orchids was shrivelled and prostrate. But + Wedderburn himself was bright and garrulous upstairs in the glory of his + strange adventure. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN THE AVU OBSERVATORY + </h2> + <p> + The observatory at Avu, in Borneo, stands on the spur of the mountain. To + the north rises the old crater, black at night against the unfathomable + blue of the sky. From the little circular building, with its mushroom + dome, the slopes plunge steeply downward into the black mysteries of the + tropical forest beneath. The little house in which the observer and his + assistant live is about fifty yards from the observatory, and beyond this + are the huts of their native attendants. + </p> + <p> + Thaddy, the chief observer, was down with a slight fever. His assistant, + Woodhouse, paused for a moment in silent contemplation of the tropical + night before commencing his solitary vigil. The night was very still. Now + and then voices and laughter came from the native huts, or the cry of some + strange animal was heard from the midst of the mystery of the forest. + Nocturnal insects appeared in ghostly fashion out of the darkness, and + fluttered round his light. He thought, perhaps, of all the possibilities + of discovery that still lay in the black tangle beneath him; for to the + naturalist the virgin forests of Borneo are still a wonderland full of + strange questions and half-suspected discoveries. Woodhouse carried a + small lantern in his hand, and its yellow glow contrasted vividly with the + infinite series of tints between lavender-blue and black in which the + landscape was painted. His hands and face were smeared with ointment + against the attacks of the mosquitoes. + </p> + <p> + Even in these days of celestial photography, work done in a purely + temporary erection, and with only the most primitive appliances in + addition to the telescope, still involves a very large amount of cramped + and motionless watching. He sighed as he thought of the physical fatigues + before him, stretched himself, and entered the observatory. + </p> + <p> + The reader is probably familiar with the structure of an ordinary + astronomical observatory. The building is usually cylindrical in shape, + with a very light hemispherical roof capable of being turned round from + the interior. The telescope is supported upon a stone pillar in the + centre, and a clockwork arrangement compensates for the earth’s + rotation, and allows a star once found to be continuously observed. + Besides this, there is a compact tracery of wheels and screws about its + point of support, by which the astronomer adjusts it. There is, of course, + a slit in the movable roof which follows the eye of the telescope in its + survey of the heavens. The observer sits or lies on a sloping wooden + arrangement, which he can wheel to any part of the observatory as the + position of the telescope may require. Within it is advisable to have + things as dark as possible, in order to enhance the brilliance of the + stars observed. + </p> + <p> + The lantern flared as Woodhouse entered his circular den, and the general + darkness fled into black shadows behind the big machine, from which it + presently seemed to creep back over the whole place again as the light + waned. The slit was a profound transparent blue, in which six stars shone + with tropical brilliance, and their light lay, a pallid gleam, along the + black tube of the instrument. Woodhouse shifted the roof, and then + proceeding to the telescope, turned first one wheel and then another, the + great cylinder slowly swinging into a new position. Then he glanced + through the finder, the little companion telescope, moved the roof a + little more, made some further adjustments, and set the clockwork in + motion. He took off his jacket, for the night was very hot, and pushed + into position the uncomfortable seat to which he was condemned for the + next four hours. Then with a sigh he resigned himself to his watch upon + the mysteries of space. + </p> + <p> + There was no sound now in the observatory, and the lantern waned steadily. + Outside there was the occasional cry of some animal in alarm or pain, or + calling to its mate, and the intermittent sounds of the Malay and Dyak + servants. Presently one of the men began a queer chanting song, in which + the others joined at intervals. After this it would seem that they turned + in for the night, for no further sound came from their direction, and the + whispering stillness became more and more profound. + </p> + <p> + The clockwork ticked steadily. The shrill hum of a mosquito explored the + place and grew shriller in indignation at Woodhouse’s ointment. Then + the lantern went out and all the observatory was black. + </p> + <p> + Woodhouse shifted his position presently, when the slow movement of the + telescope had carried it beyond the limits of his comfort. + </p> + <p> + He was watching a little group of stars in the Milky Way, in one of which + his chief had seen or fancied a remarkable colour variability. It was not + a part of the regular work for which the establishment existed, and for + that reason perhaps Woodhouse was deeply interested. He must have + forgotten things terrestrial. All his attention was concentrated upon the + great blue circle of the telescope field—a circle powdered, so it + seemed, with an innumerable multitude of stars, and all luminous against + the blackness of its setting. As he watched he seemed to himself to become + incorporeal, as if he too were floating in the ether of space. Infinitely + remote was the faint red spot he was observing. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the stars were blotted out. A flash of blackness passed, and they + were visible again. + </p> + <p> + “Queer,” said Woodhouse. “Must have been a bird.” + </p> + <p> + The thing happened again, and immediately after the great tube shivered as + though it had been struck. Then the dome of the observatory resounded with + a series of thundering blows. The stars seemed to sweep aside as the + telescope—which had been undamped—swung round and away from + the slit in the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott!” cried Woodhouse. “What’s this?” + </p> + <p> + Some huge vague black shape, with a flapping something like a wing, seemed + to be struggling in the aperture of the roof. In another moment the slit + was clear again, and the luminous haze of the Milky Way shone warm and + bright. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the roof was perfectly black, and only a scraping sound + marked the whereabouts of the unknown creature. + </p> + <p> + Woodhouse had scrambled from the seat to his feet. He was trembling + violently and in a perspiration with the suddenness of the occurrence. Was + the thing, whatever it was, inside or out? It was big, whatever else it + might be. Something shot across the skylight, and the telescope swayed. He + started violently and put his arm up. It was in the observatory, then, + with him. It was clinging to the roof, apparently. What the devil was it? + Could it see him? + </p> + <p> + He stood for perhaps a minute in a state of stupefaction. The beast, + whatever it was, clawed at the interior of the dome, and then something + flapped almost into his face, and he saw the momentary gleam of starlight + on a skin like oiled leather. His water-bottle was knocked off his little + table with a smash. + </p> + <p> + The sense of some strange bird-creature hovering a few yards from his face + in the darkness was indescribably unpleasant to Woodhouse. As his thought + returned he concluded that it must be some night-bird or large bat. At any + risk he would see what it was, and pulling a match from his pocket, he + tried to strike it on the telescope seat. There was a smoking streak of + phosphorescent light, the match flared for a moment, and he saw a vast + wing sweeping towards him, a gleam of grey-brown fur, and then he was + struck in the face and the match knocked out of his hand. The blow was + aimed at his temple, and a claw tore sideways down to his cheek. He reeled + and fell, and he heard the extinguished lantern smash. Another blow + followed as he fell. He was partly stunned, he felt his own warm blood + stream out upon his face. Instinctively he felt his eyes had been struck + at, and, turning over on his face to protect them, tried to crawl under + the protection of the telescope. He was struck again upon the back, and he + heard his jacket rip, and then the thing hit the roof of the observatory. + He edged as far as he could between the wooden seat and the eyepiece of + the instrument, and turned his body round so that it was chiefly his feet + that were exposed. With these he could at least kick. He was still in a + mystified state. The strange beast banged about in the darkness, and + presently clung to the telescope, making it sway and the gear rattle. Once + it flapped near him, and he kicked out madly and felt a soft body with his + feet. He was horribly scared now. It must be a big thing to swing the + telescope like that. He saw for a moment the outline of a head black + against the starlight, with sharply-pointed upstanding ears and a crest + between them. It seemed to him to be as big as a mastiff’s. Then he + began to bawl out as loudly as he could for help. + </p> + <p> + At that the thing came down upon him again. As it did so his hand touched + something beside him on the floor. He kicked out, and the next moment his + ankle was gripped and held by a row of keen teeth. He yelled again, and + tried to free his leg by kicking with the other. Then he realised he had + the broken water-bottle at his hand, and, snatching it, he struggled into + a sitting posture, and feeling in the darkness towards his foot, gripped a + velvety ear, like the ear of a big cat. He had seized the water-bottle by + its neck and brought it down with a shivering crash upon the head of the + strange beast. He repeated the blow, and then stabbed and jobbed with the + jagged end of it, in the darkness, where he judged the face might be. + </p> + <p> + The small teeth relaxed their hold, and at once Woodhouse pulled his leg + free and kicked hard. He felt the sickening feel of fur and bone giving + under his boot. There was a tearing bite at his arm, and he struck over it + at the face, as he judged, and hit damp fur. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; then he heard the sound of claws and the dragging of a + heavy body away from him over the observatory floor. Then there was + silence, broken only by his own sobbing breathing, and a sound like + licking. Everything was black except the parallelogram of the blue + skylight with the luminous dust of stars, against which the end of the + telescope now appeared in silhouette. He waited, as it seemed, an + interminable time. Was the thing coming on again? He felt in his + trouser-pocket for some matches, and found one remaining. He tried to + strike this, but the floor was wet, and it spat and went out. He cursed. + He could not see where the door was situated. In his struggle he had quite + lost his bearings. The strange beast, disturbed by the splutter of the + match, began to move again. “Time!” called Woodhouse, with a + sudden gleam of mirth, but the thing was not coming at him again. He must + have hurt it, he thought, with the broken bottle. He felt a dull pain in + his ankle. Probably he was bleeding there. He wondered if it would support + him if he tried to stand up. The night outside was very still. There was + no sound of any one moving. The sleepy fools had not heard those wings + battering upon the dome, nor his shouts. It was no good wasting strength + in shouting. The monster flapped its wings and startled him into a + defensive attitude. He hit his elbow against the seat, and it fell over + with a crash. He cursed this, and then he cursed the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the oblong patch of starlight seemed to sway to and fro. Was he + going to faint? It would never do to faint. He clenched his fists and set + his teeth to hold himself together. Where had the door got to? It occurred + to him he could get his bearings by the stars visible through the + skylight. The patch of stars he saw was in Sagittarius and south-eastward; + the door was north—or was it north by west? He tried to think. If he + could get the door open he might retreat. It might be the thing was + wounded. The suspense was beastly. “Look here!” he said, + “if you don’t come on, I shall come at you.” + </p> + <p> + Then the thing began clambering up the side of the observatory, and he saw + its black outline gradually blot out the skylight. Was it in retreat? He + forgot about the door, and watched as the dome shifted and creaked. + Somehow he did not feel very frightened or excited now. He felt a curious + sinking sensation inside him. The sharply-defined patch of light, with the + black form moving across it, seemed to be growing smaller and smaller. + That was curious. He began to feel very thirsty, and yet he did not feel + inclined to get anything to drink. He seemed to be sliding down a long + funnel. + </p> + <p> + He felt a burning sensation in his throat, and then he perceived it was + broad daylight, and that one of the Dyak servants was looking at him with + a curious expression. Then there was the top of Thaddy’s face upside + down. Funny fellow, Thaddy, to go about like that! Then he grasped the + situation better, and perceived that his head was on Thaddy’s knee, + and Thaddy was giving him brandy. And then he saw the eyepiece of the + telescope with a lot of red smears on it. He began to remember. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve made this observatory in a pretty mess,” said + Thaddy. + </p> + <p> + The Dyak boy was beating up an egg in brandy. Woodhouse took this and sat + up. He felt a sharp twinge of pain. His ankle was tied up, so were his arm + and the side of his face. The smashed glass, red-stained, lay about the + floor, the telescope seat was overturned, and by the opposite wall was a + dark pool. The door was open, and he saw the grey summit of the mountain + against a brilliant background of blue sky. + </p> + <p> + “Pah!” said Woodhouse. “Who’s been killing calves + here? Take me out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he remembered the Thing, and the fight he had had with it. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>was</i> it?” he said to Thaddy—“The Thing + I fought with?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> know that best,” said Thaddy. “But, anyhow, + don’t worry yourself now about it. Have some more to drink.” + </p> + <p> + Thaddy, however, was curious enough, and it was a hard struggle between + duty and inclination to keep Woodhouse quiet until he was decently put + away in bed, and had slept upon the copious dose of meat-extract Thaddy + considered advisable. They then talked it over together. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” said Woodhouse, “more like a big bat than + anything else in the world. It had sharp, short ears, and soft fur, and + its wings were leathery. Its teeth were little, but devilish sharp, and + its jaw could not have been very strong or else it would have bitten + through my ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “It has pretty nearly,” said Thaddy. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to me to hit out with its claws pretty freely. That is + about as much as I know about the beast. Our conversation was intimate, so + to speak, and yet not confidential.” + </p> + <p> + “The Dyak chaps talk about a Big Colugo, a Klang-utang—whatever + that may be. It does not often attack man, but I suppose you made it + nervous. They say there is a Big Colugo and a Little Colugo, and a + something else that sounds like gobble. They all fly about at night. For + my own part I know there are flying foxes and flying lemurs about here, + but they are none of them very big beasts.” + </p> + <p> + “There are more things in heaven and earth,” said Woodhouse—and + Thaddy groaned at the quotation—“and more particularly in the + forests of Borneo, than are dreamt of in our philosophies. On the whole, + if the Borneo fauna is going to disgorge any more of its novelties upon + me, I should prefer that it did so when I was not occupied in the + observatory at night and alone.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TRIUMPHS OF A TAXIDERMIST + </h2> + <p> + Here are some of the secrets of taxidermy. They were told me by the + taxidermist in a mood of elation. He told me them in the time between the + first glass of whisky and the fourth, when a man is no longer cautious and + yet not drunk. We sat in his den together; his library it was, his sitting + and his eating-room—separated by a bead curtain, so far as the sense + of sight went, from the noisome den where he plied his trade. + </p> + <p> + He sat on a deck chair, and when he was not tapping refractory bits of + coal with them, he kept his feet—on which he wore, after the manner + of sandals, the holy relics of a pair of carpet slippers—out of the + way upon the mantel-piece, among the glass eyes. And his trousers, + by-the-by—though they have nothing to do with his triumphs—were + a most horrible yellow plaid, such as they made when our fathers wore + side-whiskers and there were crinolines in the land. Further, his hair was + black, his face rosy, and his eye a fiery brown; and his coat was chiefly + of grease upon a basis of velveteen. And his pipe had a bowl of china + showing the Graces, and his spectacles were always askew, the left eye + glaring nakedly at you, small and penetrating; the right, seen through a + glass darkly, magnified and mild. Thus his discourse ran: “There + never was a man who could stuff like me, Bellows, never. I have stuffed + elephants and I have stuffed moths, and the things have looked all the + livelier and better for it. And I have stuffed human beings—chiefly + amateur ornithologists. But I stuffed a nigger once. + </p> + <p> + “No, there is no law against it. I made him with all his fingers out + and used him as a hat-rack, but that fool Homersby got up a quarrel with + him late one night and spoilt him. That was before your time. It is hard + to get skins, or I would have another. + </p> + <p> + “Unpleasant? I don’t see it. Seems to me taxidermy is a + promising third course to burial or cremation. You could keep all your + dear ones by you. Bric-`-brac of that sort stuck about the house would be + as good as most company, and much less expensive. You might have them + fitted up with clockwork to do things. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they would have to be varnished, but they need not shine + more than lots of people do naturally. Old Manningtree’s bald + head.... Anyhow, you could talk to them without interruption. Even aunts. + There is a great future before taxidermy, depend upon it. There is fossils + again....” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly became silent. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t think I ought to tell you that.” He sucked + at his pipe thoughtfully. “Thanks, yes. Not too much water. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, what I tell you now will go no further. You know I have + made some dodos and a great auk? No! Evidently you are an amateur at + taxidermy. My dear fellow, half the great auks in the world are about as + genuine as the handkerchief of Saint Veronica, as the Holy Coat of Treves. + We make ’em of grebes’ feathers and the like. And the great + auk’s eggs too!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we make them out of fine porcelain. I tell you it is worth + while. They fetch—one fetched #300 only the other day. That one was + really genuine, I believe, but of course one is never certain. It is very + fine work, and afterwards you have to get them dusty, for no one who owns + one of these precious eggs has ever the temerity to clean the thing. That’s + the beauty of the business. Even if they suspect an egg they do not like + to examine it too closely. It’s such brittle capital at the best. + </p> + <p> + “You did not know that taxidermy rose to heights like that. My boy, + it has risen higher. I have rivalled the hands of Nature herself. One of + the <i>genuine</i> great auks”—his voice fell to a whisper—one + of the <i>genuine</i> great auks <i>was made by me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You must study ornithology, and find out which it is yourself. + And what is more, I have been approached by a syndicate of dealers to + stock one of the unexplored skerries to the north of Iceland with + specimens. I may—some day. But I have another little thing in hand + just now. Ever heard of the dinornis? + </p> + <p> + “It is one of those big birds recently extinct in New Zealand. + ‘Moa’ is its common name, so called because extinct: there is + no moa now. See? Well, they have got bones of it, and from some of the + marshes even feathers and dried bits of skin. Now, I am going to—well, + there is no need to make any bones about it—going to <i>forge</i> a + complete stuffed moa. I know a chap out there who will pretend to make the + find in a kind of antiseptic swamp, and say he stuffed it at once, as it + threatened to fall to pieces. The feathers are peculiar, but I have got a + simply lovely way of dodging up singed bits of ostrich plume. Yes, that is + the new smell you noticed. They can only discover the fraud with a + microscope, and they will hardly care to pull a nice specimen to bits for + that. + </p> + <p> + “In this way, you see, I give my little push in the advancement of + science. + </p> + <p> + “But all this is merely imitating Nature. I have done more than that + in my time. I have—beaten her.” + </p> + <p> + He took his feet down from the mantel-board, and leant over confidentially + towards me. “I have <i>created</i> birds,” he said in a low + voice. “<i>New</i> birds. Improvements. Like no birds that was ever + seen before.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed his attitude during an impressive silence. + </p> + <p> + “Enrich the universe; <i>rath</i>-er. Some of the birds I made were + new kinds of humming birds, and very beautiful little things, but some of + them were simply rum. The rummest, I think, was the <i>Anomalopteryx + Jejuna. Jejunus-a-um</i>—empty—so called because there was + really nothing in it; a thoroughly empty bird—except for stuffing. + Old Javvers has the thing now, and I suppose he is almost as proud of it + as I am. It is a masterpiece, Bellows. It has all the silly clumsiness of + your pelican, all the solemn want of dignity of your parrot, all the gaunt + ungainliness of a flamingo, with all the extravagant chromatic conflict of + a mandarin duck. <i>Such</i> a bird. I made it out of the skeletons of a + stork and a toucan and a job lot of feathers. Taxidermy of that kind is + just pure joy, Bellows, to a real artist in the art. + </p> + <p> + “How did I come to make it? Simple enough, as all great inventions + are. One of those young genii who write us Science Notes in the papers got + hold of a German pamphlet about the birds of New Zealand, and translated + some of it by means of a dictionary and his mother-wit—he must have + been one of a very large family with a small mother—and he got mixed + between the living apteryx and the extinct anomalopteryx; talked about a + bird five feet high, living in the jungles of the North Island, rare, shy, + specimens difficult to obtain, and so on. Javvers, who even for a + collector, is a miraculously ignorant man, read these paragraphs, and + swore he would have the thing at any price. Raided the dealers with + enquiries. It shows what a man can do by persistence—will-power. + Here was a bird-collector swearing he would have a specimen of a bird that + did not exist, that never had existed, and which for very shame of its own + profane ungainliness, probably would not exist now if it could help + itself. And he got it. <i>He got it</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Have some more whisky, Bellows?” said the taxidermist, + rousing himself from a transient contemplation of the mysteries of + will-power and the collecting turn of mind. And, replenished, he proceeded + to tell me of how he concocted a most attractive mermaid, and how an + itinerant preacher, who could not get an audience because of it, smashed + it because it was idolatry, or worse, at Burslem Wakes. But as the + conversation of all the parties to this transaction, creator, would-be + preserver, and destroyer, was uniformly unfit for publication, this + cheerful incident must still remain unprinted. + </p> + <p> + The reader unacquainted with the dark ways of the collector may perhaps be + inclined to doubt my taxidermist, but so far as great auks’ eggs, + and the bogus stuffed birds are concerned, I find that he has the + confirmation of distinguished ornithological writers. And the note about + the New Zealand bird certainly appeared in a morning paper of unblemished + reputation, for the Taxidermist keeps a copy and has shown it to me. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DEAL IN OSTRICHES + </h2> + <p> + “Talking of the prices of birds, I’ve seen an ostrich that + cost three hundred pounds,” said the Taxidermist, recalling his + youth of travel. “Three hundred pounds!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me over his spectacles. “I’ve seen another that + was refused at four.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “it wasn’t any fancy points. They + was just plain ostriches. A little off colour, too—owing to dietary. + And there wasn’t any particular restriction of the demand either. + You’d have thought five ostriches would have ruled cheap on an East + Indiaman. But the point was, one of ’em had swallowed a diamond. + </p> + <p> + “The chap it got it off was Sir Mohini Padishah, a tremendous swell, + a Piccadilly swell you might say up to the neck of him, and then an ugly + black head and a whopping turban, with this diamond in it. The blessed + bird pecked suddenly and had it, and when the chap made a fuss it realised + it had done wrong, I suppose, and went and mixed itself with the others to + preserve its <i>incog</i>. It all happened in a minute. I was among the + first to arrive, and there was this heathen going over his gods, and two + sailors and the man who had charge of the birds laughing fit to split. It + was a rummy way of losing a jewel, come to think of it. The man in charge + hadn’t been about just at the moment, so that he didn’t know + which bird it was. Clean lost, you see. I didn’t feel half sorry, to + tell you the truth. The beggar had been swaggering over his blessed + diamond ever since he came aboard. + </p> + <p> + “A thing like that goes from stem to stern of a ship in no time. + Every one was talking about it. Padishah went below to hide his feelings. + At dinner—he pigged at a table by himself, him and two other Hindoos—the + captain kind of jeered at him about it, and he got very excited. He turned + round and talked into my ear. He would not buy the birds; he would have + his diamond. He demanded his rights as a British subject. His diamond must + be found. He was firm upon that. He would appeal to the House of Lords. + The man in charge of the birds was one of those wooden-headed chaps you + can’t get a new idea into anyhow. He refused any proposal to + interfere with the birds by way of medicine. His instructions were to feed + them so-and-so and treat them so-and-so, and it was as much as his place + was worth not to feed them so-and-so and treat them so-and-so. Padishah + had wanted a stomach-pump—though you can’t do that to a bird, + you know. This Padishah was full of bad law, like most of these blessed + Bengalis, and talked of having a lien on the birds, and so forth. But an + old boy, who said his son was a London barrister, argued that what a bird + swallowed became <i>ipso facto</i> part of the bird, and that Padishah’s + only remedy lay in an action for damages, and even then it might be + possible to show contributory negligence. He hadn’t any right of way + about an ostrich that didn’t belong to him. That upset Padishah + extremely, the more so as most of us expressed an opinion that that was + the reasonable view. There wasn’t any lawyer aboard to settle the + matter, so we all talked pretty free. At last, after Aden, it appears that + he came round to the general opinion, and went privately to the man in + charge and made an offer for all five ostriches. + </p> + <p> + “The next morning there was a fine shindy at breakfast. The man hadn’t + any authority to deal with the birds, and nothing on earth would induce + him to sell; but it seems he told Padishah that a Eurasian named Potter + had already made him an offer, and on that Padishah denounced Potter + before us all. But I think the most of us thought it rather smart of + Potter, and I know that when Potter said that he’d wired at Aden to + London to buy the birds, and would have an answer at Suez, I cursed pretty + richly at a lost opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “At Suez, Padishah gave way to tears—actual wet tears—when + Potter became the owner of the birds, and offered him two hundred and + fifty right off for the five, being more than two hundred per cent. on + what Potter had given. Potter said he’d be hanged if he parted with + a feather of them—that he meant to kill them off one by one and find + the diamond; but afterwards, thinking it over, he relented a little. He + was a gambling hound, was this Potter, a little queer at cards, and this + kind of prize-packet business must have suited him down to the ground. + Anyhow, he offered, for a lark, to sell the birds separately to separate + people by auction at a starting price of #80 for a bird. But one of them, + he said, he meant to keep for luck. + </p> + <p> + “You must understand this diamond was a valuable one—a little + Jew chap, a diamond merchant, who was with us, had put it at three or four + thousand when Padishah had shown it to him—and this idea of an + ostrich gamble caught on. Now it happened that I’d been having a few + talks on general subjects with the man who looked after these ostriches, + and quite incidentally he’d said one of the birds was ailing, and he + fancied it had indigestion. It had one feather in its tail almost all + white, by which I knew it, and so when, next day, the auction started with + it, I capped Padishah’s eighty-five by ninety. I fancy I was a bit + too sure and eager with my bid, and some of the others spotted the fact + that I was in the know. And Padishah went for that particular bird like an + irresponsible lunatic. At last the Jew diamond merchant got it for #175, + and Padishah said #180 just after the hammer came down—so Potter + declared. At any rate the Jew merchant secured it, and there and then he + got a gun and shot it. Potter made a Hades of a fuss because he said it + would injure the sale of the other three, and Padishah, of course, behaved + like an idiot; but all of us were very much excited. I can tell you I was + precious glad when that dissection was over, and no diamond had turned up—precious + glad. I’d gone to one-forty on that particular bird myself. + </p> + <p> + “The little Jew was like most Jews—he didn’t make any + great fuss over bad luck; but Potter declined to go on with the auction + until it was understood that the goods could not be delivered until the + sale was over. The little Jew wanted to argue that the case was + exceptional, and as the discussion ran pretty even, the thing was + postponed until the next morning. We had a lively dinner-table that + evening, I can tell you, but in the end Potter got his way, since it would + stand to reason he would be safer if he stuck to all the birds, and that + we owed him some consideration for his sportsmanlike behaviour. And the + old gentleman whose son was a lawyer said he’d been thinking the + thing over and that it was very doubtful if, when a bird had been opened + and the diamond recovered, it ought not to be handed back to the proper + owner. I remember I suggested it came under the laws of treasure-trove—which + was really the truth of the matter. There was a hot argument, and we + settled it was certainly foolish to kill the bird on board the ship. Then + the old gentleman, going at large through his legal talk, tried to make + out the sale was a lottery and illegal, and appealed to the captain; but + Potter said he sold the birds <i>as</i> ostriches. He didn’t want to + sell any diamonds, he said, and didn’t offer that as an inducement. + The three birds he put up, to the best of his knowledge and belief, did <i>not</i> + contain a diamond. It was in the one he kept—so he hoped. + </p> + <p> + “Prices ruled high next day all the same. The fact that now there + were four chances instead of five of course caused a rise. The blessed + birds averaged 227, and, oddly enough, this Padishah didn’t secure + one of ’em—not one. He made too much shindy, and when he ought + to have been bidding he was talking about liens, and, besides, Potter was + a bit down on him. One fell to a quiet little officer chap, another to the + little Jew, and the third was syndicated by the engineers. And then Potter + seemed suddenly sorry for having sold them, and said he’d flung away + a clear thousand pounds, and that very likely he’d draw a blank and + that he always had been a fool, but when I went and had a bit of a talk to + him, with the idea of getting him to hedge on his last chance, I found he’d + already sold the bird he’d reserved to a political chap that was on + board, a chap who’d been studying Indian morals and social questions + in his vacation. That last was the three hundred pounds bird. Well, they + landed three of the blessed creatures at Brindisi—though the old + gentleman said it was a breach of the Customs regulations—and Potter + and Padishah landed too. The Hindoo seemed half mad as he saw his blessed + diamond going this way and that, so to speak. He kept on saying he’d + get an injunction—he had injunction on the brain—and giving + his name and address to the chaps who’d bought the birds, so that + they’d know where to send the diamond. None of them wanted his name + and address, and none of them would give their own. It was a fine row I + can tell you—on the platform. They all went off by different trains. + I came on to Southampton, and there I saw the last of the birds, as I came + ashore; it was the one the engineers bought, and it was standing up near + the bridge, in a kind of crate, and looking as leggy and silly a setting + for a valuable diamond as ever you saw—if it <i>was</i> a setting + for a valuable diamond. + </p> + <p> + “<i>How did it end</i>? Oh! like that. Well—perhaps. Yes, + there’s one more thing that may throw light on it. A week or so + after landing I was down Regent-street doing a bit of shopping, and who + should I see arm-in-arm and having a purple time of it but Padishah and + Potter. If you come to think of it— + </p> + <p> + “Yes. <i>I’ve</i> thought that. Only, you see, there’s + no doubt the diamond was real. And Padishah was an eminent Hindoo. I’ve + seen his name in the papers—often. But whether the bird swallowed + the diamond certainly is another matter, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THROUGH A WINDOW + </h2> + <p> + After his legs were set, they carried Bailey into the study and put him on + a couch before the open window. There he lay, a live—even a feverish + man down to the loins, and below that a double-barrelled mummy swathed in + white wrappings. He tried to read, even tried to write a little, but most + of the time he looked out of the window. + </p> + <p> + He had thought the window cheerful to begin with, but now he thanked God + for it many times a day. Within, the room was dim and grey, and in the + reflected light the wear of the furniture showed plainly. His medicine and + drink stood on the little table, with such litter as the bare branches of + a bunch of grapes or the ashes of a cigar upon a green plate, or a day old + evening paper. The view outside was flooded with light, and across the + corner of it came the head of the acacia, and at the foot the top of the + balcony-railing of hammered iron. In the foreground was the weltering + silver of the river, never quiet and yet never tiresome. Beyond was the + reedy bank, a broad stretch of meadow land, and then a dark line of trees + ending in a group of poplars at the distant bend of the river, and, + upstanding behind them, a square church tower. + </p> + <p> + Up and down the river, all day long, things were passing. Now a string of + barges drifting down to London, piled with lime or barrels of beer; then a + steam-launch, disengaging heavy masses of black smoke, and disturbing the + whole width of the river with long rolling waves; then an impetuous + electric launch, and then a boatload of pleasure-seekers, a solitary + sculler, or a four from some rowing club. Perhaps the river was quietest + of a morning or late at night. One moonlight night some people drifted + down singing, and with a zither playing—it sounded very pleasantly + across the water. + </p> + <p> + In a few days Bailey began to recognise some of the craft; in a week he + knew the intimate history of half-a-dozen. The launch <i>Luzon</i>, from + Fitzgibbon’s, two miles up, would go fretting by, sometimes three or + four times a day, conspicuous with its colouring of Indian-red and yellow, + and its two Oriental attendants; and one day, to Bailey’s vast + amusement, the house-boat <i>Purple Emperor</i> came to a stop outside, + and breakfasted in the most shameless domesticity. Then one afternoon, the + captain of a slow-moving barge began a quarrel with his wife as they came + into sight from the left, and had carried it to personal violence before + he vanished behind the window-frame to the right. Bailey regarded all this + as an entertainment got up to while away his illness, and applauded all + the more moving incidents. Mrs Green, coming in at rare intervals with his + meals, would catch him clapping his hands or softly crying, “Encore!” + But the river players had other engagements, and his encore went unheeded. + </p> + <p> + “I should never have thought I could take such an interest in things + that did not concern me,” said Bailey to Wilderspin, who used to + come in in his nervous, friendly way and try to comfort the sufferer by + being talked to. “I thought this idle capacity was distinctive of + little children and old maids. But it’s just circumstances. I simply + can’t work, and things have to drift; it’s no good to fret and + struggle. And so I lie here and am as amused as a baby with a rattle, at + this river and its affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, of course, it gets a bit dull, but not often. + </p> + <p> + “I would give anything, Wilderspin, for a swamp—just one swamp—once. + Heads swimming and a steam launch to the rescue, and a chap or so hauled + out with a boat-hook.... There goes Fitzgibbon’s launch! They have a + new boat-hook, I see, and the little blackie is still in the dumps. I don’t + think he’s very well, Wilderspin. He’s been like that for two + or three days, squatting sulky-fashion and meditating over the churning of + the water. Unwholesome for him to be always staring at the frothy water + running away from the stern.” + </p> + <p> + They watched the little steamer fuss across the patch of sunlit river, + suffer momentary occultation from the acacia, and glide out of sight + behind the dark window-frame. + </p> + <p> + “I’m getting a wonderful eye for details,” said Bailey: + “I spotted that new boat-hook at once. The other nigger is a funny + little chap. He never used to swagger with the old boat-hook like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Malays, aren’t they?” said Wilderspin. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know,” said Bailey. “I thought one called + all that sort of manner Lascar.” + </p> + <p> + Then he began to tell Wilderspin what he knew of the private affairs of + the houseboat, <i>Purple Emperor</i>. “Funny,” he said, + “how these people come from all points of the compass—from + Oxford and Windsor, from Asia and Africa—and gather and pass + opposite the window just to entertain me. One man floated out of the + infinite the day before yesterday, caught one perfect crab opposite, lost + and recovered a scull, and passed on again. Probably he will never come + into my life again. So far as I am concerned, he has lived and had his + little troubles, perhaps thirty—perhaps forty—years on the + earth, merely to make an ass of himself for three minutes in front of my + window. Wonderful thing, Wilderspin, if you come to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wilderspin; “<i>isn’t</i> it?” + </p> + <p> + A day or two after this Bailey had a brilliant morning. Indeed, towards + the end of the affair, it became almost as exciting as any window show + very well could be. We will, however, begin at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + Bailey was all alone in the house, for his housekeeper had gone into the + town three miles away to pay bills, and the servant had her holiday. The + morning began dull. A canoe went up about half-past nine, and later a + boat-load of camping men came down. But this was mere margin. Things + became cheerful about ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + It began with something white fluttering in the remote distance where the + three poplars marked the river bend. “Pocket-handkerchief,” + said Bailey, when he saw it “No. Too big! Flag perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + However, it was not a flag, for it jumped about. “Man in whites + running fast, and this way,” said Bailey. “That’s luck! + But his whites are precious loose!” + </p> + <p> + Then a singular thing happened. There was a minute pink gleam among the + dark trees in the distance, and a little puff of pale grey that began to + drift and vanish eastward. The man in white jumped and continued running. + Presently the report of the shot arrived. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil!” said Bailey. “Looks as if someone was + shooting at him.” + </p> + <p> + He sat up stiffly and stared hard. The white figure was coming along the + pathway through the corn. “It’s one of those niggers from the + Fitzgibbon’s,” said Bailey; “or may I be hanged! I + wonder why he keeps sawing with his arm.” + </p> + <p> + Then three other figures became indistinctly visible against the dark + background of the trees. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly on the opposite bank a man walked into the picture. He was + black-bearded, dressed in flannels, had a red belt, and a vast grey felt + hat. He walked, leaning very much forward and with his hands swinging + before him. Behind him one could see the grass swept by the towing-rope of + the boat he was dragging. He was steadfastly regarding the white figure + that was hurrying through the corn. Suddenly he stopped. Then, with a + peculiar gesture, Bailey could see that he began pulling in the tow-rope + hand over hand. Over the water could be heard the voices of the people in + the still invisible boat. + </p> + <p> + “What are you after, Hagshot?” said someone. + </p> + <p> + The individual with the red belt shouted something that was inaudible, and + went on lugging in the rope, looking over his shoulder at the advancing + white figure as he did so. He came down the bank, and the rope bent a lane + among the reeds and lashed the water between his pulls. + </p> + <p> + Then just the bows of the boat came into view, with the towing-mast and a + tall, fair-haired man standing up and trying to see over the bank. The + boat bumped unexpectedly among the reeds, and the tall, fair-haired man + disappeared suddenly, having apparently fallen back into the invisible + part of the boat. There was a curse and some indistinct laughter. Hagshot + did not laugh, but hastily clambered into the boat and pushed off. + Abruptly the boat passed out of Bailey’s sight. + </p> + <p> + But it was still audible. The melody of voices suggested that its + occupants were busy telling each other what to do. + </p> + <p> + The running figure was drawing near the bank. Bailey could now see clearly + that it was one of Fitzgibbon’s Orientals, and began to realise what + the sinuous thing the man carried in his hand might be. Three other men + followed one another through the corn, and the foremost carried what was + probably the gun. They were perhaps two hundred yards or more behind the + Malay. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a man hunt, by all that’s holy!” said + Bailey. + </p> + <p> + The Malay stopped for a moment and surveyed the bank to the right. Then he + left the path, and, breaking through the corn, vanished in that direction. + The three pursuers followed suit, and their heads and gesticulating arms + above the corn, after a brief interval, also went out of Bailey’s + field of vision. + </p> + <p> + Bailey so far forgot himself as to swear. “Just as things were + getting lively!” he said. Something like a woman’s shriek came + through the air. Then shouts, a howl, a dull whack upon the balcony + outside that made Bailey jump, and then the report of a gun. + </p> + <p> + “This is precious hard on an invalid,” said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + But more was to happen yet in his picture. In fact, a great deal more. The + Malay appeared again, running now along the bank up stream. His stride had + more swing and less pace in it than before. He was threatening someone + ahead with the ugly krees he carried. The blade, Bailey noticed, was dull—it + did not shine as steel should. + </p> + <p> + Then came the tall, fair man, brandishing a boat-hook, and after him three + other men in boating costume, running clumsily with oars. The man with the + grey hat and red belt was not with them. After an interval the three men + with the gun reappeared, still in the corn, but now near the river bank. + They emerged upon the towing-path, and hurried after the others. The + opposite bank was left blank and desolate again. + </p> + <p> + The sick-room was disgraced by more profanity. “I would give my life + to see the end of this,” said Bailey. There were indistinct shouts + up stream. Once they seemed to be coming nearer, but they disappointed + him. + </p> + <p> + Bailey sat and grumbled. He was still grumbling when his eye caught + something black and round among the waves. “Hullo!” he said. + He looked narrowly and saw two triangular black bodies frothing every now + and then about a yard in front of this. + </p> + <p> + He was still doubtful when the little band of pursuers came into sight + again, and began to point to this floating object. They were talking + eagerly. Then the man with the gun took aim. + </p> + <p> + “He’s swimming the river, by George!” said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + The Malay looked round, saw the gun, and went under. He came up so close + to Bailey’s bank of the river that one of the bars of the balcony + hid him for a moment. As he emerged the man with the gun fired. The Malay + kept steadily onward—Bailey could see the wet hair on his forehead + now and the krees between his teeth—and was presently hidden by the + balcony. + </p> + <p> + This seemed to Bailey an unendurable wrong. The man was lost to him for + ever now, so he thought. Why couldn’t the brute have got himself + decently caught on the opposite bank, or shot in the water? + </p> + <p> + “It’s worse than Edwin Drood,” said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + Over the river, too, things had become an absolute blank. All seven men + had gone down stream again, probably to get the boat and follow across. + Bailey listened and waited. There was silence. “Surely it’s + not over like this,” said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes passed—ten minutes. Then a tug with two barges went up + stream. The attitudes of the men upon these were the attitudes of those + who see nothing remarkable in earth, water, or sky. Clearly the whole + affair had passed out of sight of the river. Probably the hunt had gone + into the beech woods behind the house. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” said Bailey. “To be continued again, and + no chance this time of the sequel. But this is hard on a sick man.” + </p> + <p> + He heard a step on the staircase behind him and looking round saw the door + open. Mrs Green came in and sat down, panting. She still had her bonnet + on, her purse in her hand, and her little brown basket upon her arm. + “Oh, there!” she said, and left Bailey to imagine the rest. + </p> + <p> + “Have a little whisky and water, Mrs Green, and tell me about it,” + said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + Sipping a little, the lady began to recover her powers of explanation. + </p> + <p> + One of those black creatures at the Fitzgibbon’s had gone mad, and + was running about with a big knife, stabbing people. He had killed a + groom, and stabbed the under-butler, and almost cut the arm off a boating + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Running amuck with a krees,” said Bailey. “I thought + that was it.” + </p> + <p> + And he was hiding in the wood when she came through it from the town. + </p> + <p> + “What! Did he run after you?” asked Bailey, with a certain + touch of glee in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, that was the horrible part of it,” Mrs Green explained. + She had been right through the woods and had <i>never known he was there</i>. + It was only when she met young Mr Fitzgibbon carrying his gun in the + shrubbery that she heard anything about it. Apparently, what upset Mrs + Green was the lost opportunity for emotion. She was determined, however, + to make the most of what was left her. + </p> + <p> + “To think he was there all the time!” she said, over and over + again. + </p> + <p> + Bailey endured this patiently enough for perhaps ten minutes. At last he + thought it advisable to assert himself. “It’s twenty past one, + Mrs Green,” he said. “Don’t you think it time you got me + something to eat?” + </p> + <p> + This brought Mrs Green suddenly to her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Lord, sir!” she said. “Oh! don’t go making me + go out of this room, sir, till I know he’s caught. He might have got + into the house, sir. He might be creeping, creeping, with that knife of + his, along the passage this very—” + </p> + <p> + She broke off suddenly and glared over him at the window. Her lower jaw + dropped. Bailey turned his head sharply. + </p> + <p> + For the space of half a second things seemed just as they were. There was + the tree, the balcony, the shining river, the distant church tower. Then + he noticed that the acacia was displaced about a foot to the right, and + that it was quivering, and the leaves were rustling. The tree was shaken + violently, and a heavy panting was audible. + </p> + <p> + In another moment a hairy brown hand had appeared and clutched the balcony + railings, and in another the face of the Malay was peering through these + at the man on the couch. His expression was an unpleasant grin, by reason + of the krees he held between his teeth, and he was bleeding from an ugly + wound in his cheek. His hair wet to drying stuck out like horns from his + head. His body was bare save for the wet trousers that clung to him. + Bailey’s first impulse was to spring from the couch, but his legs + reminded him that this was impossible. + </p> + <p> + By means of the balcony and tree the man slowly raised himself until he + was visible to Mrs Green. With a choking cry she made for the door and + fumbled with the handle. + </p> + <p> + Bailey thought swiftly and clutched a medicine bottle in either hand. One + he flung, and it smashed against the acacia. Silently and deliberately, + and keeping his bright eyes fixed on Bailey, the Malay clambered into the + balcony. Bailey, still clutching his second bottle, but with a sickening, + sinking feeling about his heart, watched first one leg come over the + railing and then the other. + </p> + <p> + It was Bailey’s impression that the Malay took about an hour to get + his second leg over the rail. The period that elapsed before the sitting + position was changed to a standing one seemed enormous—days, weeks, + possibly a year or so. Yet Bailey had no clear impression of anything + going on in his mind during that vast period, except a vague wonder at his + inability to throw the second medicine bottle. Suddenly the Malay glanced + over his shoulder. There was the crack of a rifle. He flung up his arms + and came down upon the couch. Mrs Green began a dismal shriek that seemed + likely to last until Doomsday. Bailey stared at the brown body with its + shoulder blade driven in, that writhed painfully across his legs and + rapidly staining and soaking the spotless bandages. Then he looked at the + long krees, with the reddish streaks upon its blade, that lay an inch + beyond the trembling brown fingers upon the floor. Then at Mrs Green, who + had backed hard against the door and was staring at the body and shrieking + in gusty outbursts as if she would wake the dead. And then the body was + shaken by one last convulsive effort. + </p> + <p> + The Malay gripped the krees, tried to raise himself with his left hand, + and collapsed. Then he raised his head, stared for a moment at Mrs Green, + and twisting his face round looked at Bailey. With a gasping groan the + dying man succeeded in clutching the bed clothes with his disabled hand, + and by a violent effort, which hurt Bailey’s legs exceedingly, + writhed sideways towards what must be his last victim. Then something + seemed released in Bailey’s mind and he brought down the second + bottle with all his strength on to the Malay’s face. The krees fell + heavily upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Easy with those legs,” said Bailey, as young Fitzgibbon and + one of the boating party lifted the body off him. + </p> + <p> + Young Fitzgibbon was very white in the face. “I didn’t mean to + kill him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s just as well,” said Bailey. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEMPTATION OF HARRINGAY + </h2> + <p> + It is quite impossible to say whether this thing really happened. It + depends entirely on the word of R.M. Harringay, who is an artist. + </p> + <p> + Following his version of the affair, the narrative deposes that Harringay + went into his studio about ten o’clock to see what he could make of + the head that he had been working at the day before. The head in question + was that of an Italian organ-grinder, and Harringay thought—but was + not quite sure—that the title would be the “Vigil.” So + far he is frank, and his narrative bears the stamp of truth. He had seen + the man expectant for pennies, and with a promptness that suggested + genius, had had him in at once. + </p> + <p> + “Kneel. Look up at that bracket,” said Harringay. “As if + you expected pennies.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t <i>grin</i>!” said Harringay. “I don’t + want to paint your gums. Look as though you were unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Now, after a night’s rest, the picture proved decidedly + unsatisfactory. “It’s good work,” said Harringay. + “That little bit in the neck ... But.” + </p> + <p> + He walked about the studio and looked at the thing from this point and + from that. Then he said a wicked word. In the original the word is given. + </p> + <p> + “Painting,” he says he said. “Just a painting of an + organ-grinder—a mere portrait. If it was a live organ-grinder I + wouldn’t mind. But somehow I never make things alive. I wonder if my + imagination is wrong.” This, too, has a truthful air. His + imagination <i>is</i> wrong. + </p> + <p> + “That creative touch! To take canvas and pigment and make a man—as + Adam was made of red ochre! But this thing! If you met it walking about + the streets you would know it was only a studio production. The little + boys would tell it to ‘Garnome and git frimed.’ Some little + touch ... Well—it won’t do as it is.” + </p> + <p> + He went to the blinds and began to pull them down. They were made of blue + holland with the rollers at the bottom of the window, so that you pull + them down to get more light. He gathered his palette, brushes, and mahl + stick from his table. Then he turned to the picture and put a speck of + brown in the corner of the mouth; and shifted his attention thence to the + pupil of the eye. Then he decided that the chin was a trifle too impassive + for a vigil. + </p> + <p> + Presently he put down his impedimenta, and lighting a pipe surveyed the + progress of his work. “I’m hanged if the thing isn’t + sneering at me,” said Harringay, and he still believes it sneered. + </p> + <p> + The animation of the figure had certainly increased, but scarcely in the + direction he wished. There was no mistake about the sneer. “Vigil of + the Unbeliever,” said Harringay. “Rather subtle and clever + that! But the left eyebrow isn’t cynical enough.” + </p> + <p> + He went and dabbed at the eyebrow, and added a little to the lobe of the + ear to suggest materialism. Further consideration ensued. “Vigil’s + off, I’m afraid,” said Harringay. “Why not + Mephistopheles? But that’s a bit <i>too</i> common. ‘A Friend + of the Doge,’—not so seedy. The armour won’t do, though. + Too Camelot. How about a scarlet robe and call him One of the Sacred + College’? Humour in that, and an appreciation of Middle Italian + History.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s always Benvenuto Cellini,” said Harringay; + “with a clever suggestion of a gold cup in one corner. But that + would scarcely suit the complexion.” + </p> + <p> + He describes himself as babbling in this way in order to keep down an + unaccountably unpleasant sensation of fear. The thing was certainly + acquiring anything but a pleasing expression. Yet it was as certainly + becoming far more of a living thing than it had been—if a sinister + one—far more alive than anything he had ever painted before. “Call + it Portrait of a Gentleman,’” said Harringay;—“A + Certain Gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t do,” said Harringay, still keeping up his + courage. “Kind of thing they call Bad Taste. That sneer will have to + come out. That gone, and a little more fire in the eye—never noticed + how warm his eye was before—and he might do for—? What price + Passionate Pilgrim? But that devilish face won’t do—<i>this</i> + side of the Channel. + </p> + <p> + “Some little inaccuracy does it,” he said; “eyebrows + probably too oblique,”—therewith pulling the blind lower to + get a better light, and resuming palette and brushes. + </p> + <p> + The face on the canvas seemed animated by a spirit of its own. Where the + expression of diablerie came in he found impossible to discover. + Experiment was necessary. The eyebrows—it could scarcely be the + eyebrows? But he altered them. No, that was no better; in fact, if + anything, a trifle more satanic. The corner of the mouth? Pah! more than + ever a leer—and now, retouched, it was ominously grim. The eye, + then? Catastrophe! he had filled his brush with vermilion instead of + brown, and yet he had felt sure it was brown! The eye seemed now to have + rolled in its socket, and was glaring at him an eye of fire. In a flash of + passion, possibly with something of the courage of panic, he struck the + brush full of bright red athwart the picture; and then a very curious + thing, a very strange thing indeed, occurred—if it <i>did</i> occur. + </p> + <p> + <i>The diabolified Italian before him shut both his eyes, pursed his + mouth, and wiped the colour off his face with his hand</i>. + </p> + <p> + Then the <i>red eye</i> opened again, with a sound like the opening of + lips, and the face smiled. “That was rather hasty of you,” + said the picture. + </p> + <p> + Harringay states that, now that the worst had happened, his + self-possession returned. He had a saving persuasion that devils were + reasonable creatures. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you keep moving about then,” he said, “making + faces and all that—sneering and squinting, while I am painting you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” said the picture. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>do</i>,” said Harringay. + </p> + <p> + “It’s yourself,” said the picture. + </p> + <p> + “It’s <i>not</i> myself,” said Harringay. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> yourself,” said the picture. “No! don’t + go hitting me with paint again, because it’s true. You have been + trying to fluke an expression on my face all the morning. Really, you + haven’t an idea what your picture ought to look like.” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Harringay. + </p> + <p> + “You have <i>not</i>,” said the picture: “You <i>never</i> + have with your pictures. You always start with the vaguest presentiment of + what you are going to do; it is to be something beautiful—you are + sure of that—and devout, perhaps, or tragic; but beyond that it is + all experiment and chance. My dear fellow! you don’t think you can + paint a picture like that?” + </p> + <p> + Now it must be remembered that for what follows we have only Harringay’s + word. + </p> + <p> + “I shall paint a picture exactly as I like,” said Harringay, + calmly. + </p> + <p> + This seemed to disconcert the picture a little. “You can’t + paint a picture without an inspiration,” it remarked. + </p> + <p> + “But I <i>had</i> an inspiration—for this.” + </p> + <p> + “Inspiration!” sneered the sardonic figure; “a fancy + that came from your seeing an organ-grinder looking up at a window! Vigil! + Ha, ha! You just started painting on the chance of something coming—that’s + what you did. And when I saw you at it I came. I want a talk with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Art, with you,” said the picture,—“it’s a + poor business. You potter. I don’t know how it is, but you don’t + seem able to throw your soul into it. You know too much. It hampers you. + In the midst of your enthusiasms you ask yourself whether something like + this has not been done before. And ...” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Harringay, who had expected something better + than criticism from the devil. “Are you going to talk studio to me?” + He filled his number twelve hoghair with red paint. + </p> + <p> + “The true artist,” said the picture, “is always an + ignorant man. An artist who theorises about his work is no longer artist + but critic. Wagner ... I say!—What’s that red paint for?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to paint you out,” said Harringay. “I + don’t want to hear all that Tommy Rot. If you think just because I’m + an artist by trade I’m going to talk studio to you, you make a + precious mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “One minute,” said the picture, evidently alarmed. “I + want to make you an offer—a genuine offer. It’s right what I’m + saying. You lack inspirations. Well. No doubt you’ve heard of the + Cathedral of Cologne, and the Devil’s Bridge, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish,” said Harringay. “Do you think I want to go to + perdition simply for the pleasure of painting a good picture, and getting + it slated. Take that.” + </p> + <p> + His blood was up. His danger only nerved him to action, so he says. So he + planted a dab of vermilion in his creature’s mouth. The Italian + spluttered and tried to wipe it off—evidently horribly surprised. + And then—according to Harringay—there began a very remarkable + struggle, Harringay splashing away with the red paint, and the picture + wriggling about and wiping it off as fast as he put it on. “<i>Two</i> + masterpieces,” said the demon. “Two indubitable masterpieces + for a Chelsea artist’s soul. It’s a bargain?” Harringay + replied with the paint brush. + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes nothing could be heard but the brush going and the + spluttering and ejaculations of the Italian. A lot of the strokes he + caught on his arm and hand, though Harringay got over his guard often + enough. Presently the paint on the palette gave out and the two + antagonists stood breathless, regarding each other. The picture was so + smeared with red that it looked as if it had been rolling about a + slaughterhouse, and it was painfully out of breath and very uncomfortable + with the wet paint trickling down its neck. Still, the first round was in + its favour on the whole. “Think,” it said, sticking pluckily + to its point, “two supreme masterpieces—in different styles. + Each equivalent to the Cathedral...” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> know,” said Harringay, and rushed out of the studio + and along the passage towards his wife’s boudoir. + </p> + <p> + In another minute he was back with a large tin of enamel—Hedge + Sparrow’s Egg Tint, it was, and a brush. At the sight of that the + artistic devil with the red eye began to scream. “<i>Three</i> + masterpieces—culminating masterpieces.” + </p> + <p> + Harringay delivered cut two across the demon, and followed with a thrust + in the eye. There was an indistinct rumbling. “<i>Four</i> + masterpieces,” and a spitting sound. + </p> + <p> + But Harringay had the upper hand now and meant to keep it. With rapid, + bold strokes he continued to paint over the writhing canvas, until at last + it was a uniform field of shining Hedge Sparrow tint. Once the mouth + reappeared and got as far as “Five master—” before he + filled it with enamel; and near the end the red eye opened and glared at + him indignantly. But at last nothing remained save a gleaming panel of + drying enamel. For a little while a faint stirring beneath the surface + puckered it slightly here and there, but presently even that died away and + the thing was perfectly still. + </p> + <p> + Then Harringay—according to Harringay’s account—lit his + pipe and sat down and stared at the enamelled canvas, and tried to make + out clearly what had happened. Then he walked round behind it, to see if + the back of it was at all remarkable. Then it was he began to regret he + had not photographed the Devil before he painted him out. + </p> + <p> + This is Harringay’s story—not mine. He supports it by a small + canvas (24 by 20) enamelled a pale green, and by violent asseverations. It + is also true that he never has produced a masterpiece, and in the opinion + of his intimate friends probably never will. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FLYING MAN + </h2> + <p> + The Ethnologist looked at the <i>bhimraj</i> feather thoughtfully. “They + seemed loth to part with it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It is sacred to the Chiefs,” said the lieutenant; “just + as yellow silk, you know, is sacred to the Chinese Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + The Ethnologist did not answer. He hesitated. Then opening the topic + abruptly, “What on earth is this cock-and-bull story they have of a + flying man?” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant smiled faintly. “What did they tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said the Ethnologist, “that you know of your + fame.” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant rolled himself a cigarette. “I don’t mind + hearing about it once more. How does it stand at present?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s so confoundedly childish,” said the Ethnologist, + becoming irritated. “How did you play it off upon them?” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant made no answer, but lounged back in his folding-chair, + still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Here am I, come four hundred miles out of my way to get what is + left of the folk-lore of these people, before they are utterly demoralised + by missionaries and the military, and all I find are a lot of impossible + legends about a sandy-haired scrub of an infantry lieutenant. How he is + invulnerable—how he can jump over elephants—how he can fly. + That’s the toughest nut. One old gentleman described your wings, + said they had black plumage and were not quite as long as a mule. Said he + often saw you by moonlight hovering over the crests out towards the Shendu + country.—Confound it, man!” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant laughed cheerfully. “Go on,” he said. “Go + on.” + </p> + <p> + The Ethnologist did. At last he wearied. “To trade so,” he + said, “on these unsophisticated children of the mountains. How could + you bring yourself to do it, man?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry,” said the lieutenant, “but truly the + thing was forced upon me. I can assure you I was driven to it. And at the + time I had not the faintest idea of how the Chin imagination would take + it. Or curiosity. I can only plead it was an indiscretion and not malice + that made me replace the folk-lore by a new legend. But as you seem + aggrieved, I will try and explain the business to you. + </p> + <p> + “It was in the time of the last Lushai expedition but one, and + Walters thought these people you have been visiting were friendly. So, + with an airy confidence in my capacity for taking care of myself, he sent + me up the gorge—fourteen miles of it—with three of the + Derbyshire men and half a dozen Sepoys, two mules, and his blessing, to + see what popular feeling was like at that village you visited. A force of + ten—not counting the mules—fourteen miles, and during a war! + You saw the road?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Road</i>!” said the Ethnologist. + </p> + <p> + “It’s better now than it was. When we went up we had to wade + in the river for a mile where the valley narrows, with a smart stream + frothing round our knees and the stones as slippery as ice. There it was I + dropped my rifle. Afterwards the Sappers blasted the cliff with dynamite + and made the convenient way you came by. Then below, where those very high + cliffs come, we had to keep on dodging across the river—I should say + we crossed it a dozen times in a couple of miles. + </p> + <p> + “We got in sight of the place early the next morning. You know how + it lies, on a spur halfway between the big hills, and as we began to + appreciate how wickedly quiet the village lay under the sunlight, we came + to a stop to consider. + </p> + <p> + “At that they fired a lump of filed brass idol at us, just by way of + a welcome. It came twanging down the slope to the right of us where the + boulders are, missed my shoulder by an inch or so, and plugged the mule + that carried all the provisions and utensils. I never heard such a + death-rattle before or since. And at that we became aware of a number of + gentlemen carrying matchlocks, and dressed in things like plaid dusters, + dodging about along the neck between the village and the crest to the + east. + </p> + <p> + “‘Right about face,’ I said. ‘Not too close + together.’ + </p> + <p> + “And with that encouragement my expedition of ten men came round and + set off at a smart trot down the valley again hitherward. We did not wait + to save anything our dead had carried, but we kept the second mule with us—he + carried my tent and some other rubbish—out of a feeling of + friendship. + </p> + <p> + “So ended the battle—ingloriously. Glancing back, I saw the + valley dotted with the victors, shouting and firing at us. But no one was + hit. These Chins and their guns are very little good except at a sitting + shot. They will sit and finick over a boulder for hours taking aim, and + when they fire running it is chiefly for stage effect. Hooker, one of the + Derbyshire men, fancied himself rather with the rifle, and stopped behind + for half a minute to try his luck as we turned the bend. But he got + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not a Xenophon to spin much of a yarn about my retreating + army. We had to pull the enemy up twice in the next two miles when he + became a bit pressing, by exchanging shots with him, but it was a fairly + monotonous affair—hard breathing chiefly—until we got near the + place where the hills run in towards the river and pinch the valley into a + gorge. And there we very luckily caught a glimpse of half a dozen round + black heads coming slanting-ways over the hill to the left of us—the + east that is—and almost parallel with us. + </p> + <p> + “At that I called a halt. ‘Look here,’ says I to Hooker + and the other Englishmen; ‘what are we to do now?’ and I + pointed to the heads. + </p> + <p> + “‘Headed orf, or I’m a nigger,’ said one of the + men. + </p> + <p> + “‘We shall be,’ said another. ‘You know the Chin + way, George?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘They can pot every one of us at fifty yards,’ says + Hooker, ‘in the place where the river is narrow. It’s just + suicide to go on down.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked at the hill to the right of us. It grew steeper lower down + the valley, but it still seemed climbable. And all the Chins we had seen + hitherto had been on the other side of the stream. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s that or stopping,’ says one of the Sepoys. + </p> + <p> + “So we started slanting up the hill. There was something faintly + suggestive of a road running obliquely up the face of it, and that we + followed. Some Chins presently came into view up the valley, and I heard + some shots. Then I saw one of the Sepoys was sitting down about thirty + yards below us. He had simply sat down without a word, apparently not + wishing to give trouble. At that I called a halt again; I told Hooker to + try another shot, and went back and found the man was hit in the leg. I + took him up, carried him along to put him on the mule—already pretty + well laden with the tent and other things which we had no time to take + off. When I got up to the rest with him, Hooker had his empty Martini in + his hand, and was grinning and pointing to a motionless black spot up the + valley. All the rest of the Chins were behind boulders or back round the + bend. ‘Five hundred yards,’ says Hooker, ‘if an inch. + And I’ll swear I hit him in the head.’ + </p> + <p> + “I told him to go and do it again, and with that we went on again. + </p> + <p> + “Now the hillside kept getting steeper as we pushed on, and the road + we were following more and more of a shelf. At last it was mere cliff + above and below us. ‘It’s the best road I have seen yet in + Chin Lushai land,’ said I to encourage the men, though I had a fear + of what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “And in a few minutes the way bent round a corner of the cliff. + Then, finis! the ledge came to an end. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as he grasped the position one of the Derbyshire men fell + a-swearing at the trap we had fallen into. The Sepoys halted quietly. + Hooker grunted and reloaded, and went back to the bend. + </p> + <p> + “Then two of the Sepoy chaps helped their comrade down and began to + unload the mule. + </p> + <p> + “Now, when I came to look about me, I began to think we had not been + so very unfortunate after all. We were on a shelf perhaps ten yards across + it at widest. Above it the cliff projected so that we could not be shot + down upon, and below was an almost sheer precipice of perhaps two or three + hundred feet. Lying down we were invisible to anyone across the ravine. + The only approach was along the ledge, and on that one man was as good as + a host. We were in a natural stronghold, with only one disadvantage, our + sole provision against hunger and thirst was one live mule. Still we were + at most eight or nine miles from the main expedition, and no doubt, after + a day or so, they would send up after us if we did not return. + </p> + <p> + “After a day or so ...” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant paused. “Ever been thirsty, Graham?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that kind,” said the Ethnologist. + </p> + <p> + “H’m. We had the whole of that day, the night, and the next + day of it, and only a trifle of dew we wrung out of our clothes and the + tent. And below us was the river going giggle, giggle, round a rock in mid + stream. I never knew such a barrenness of incident, or such a quantity of + sensation. The sun might have had Joshua’s command still upon it for + all the motion one could see; and it blazed like a near furnace. Towards + the evening of the first day one of the Derbyshire men said something—nobody + heard what—and went off round the bend of the cliff. We heard shots, + and when Hooker looked round the corner he was gone. And in the morning + the Sepoy whose leg was shot was in delirium, and jumped or fell over the + cliff. Then we took the mule and shot it, and that must needs go over the + cliff too in its last struggles, leaving eight of us. + </p> + <p> + “We could see the body of the Sepoy down below, with the head in the + water. He was lying face downwards, and so far as I could make out was + scarcely smashed at all. Badly as the Chins might covet his head, they had + the sense to leave it alone until the darkness came. + </p> + <p> + “At first we talked of all the chances there were of the main body + hearing the firing, and reckoned whether they would begin to miss us, and + all that kind of thing, but we dried up as the evening came on. The Sepoys + played games with bits of stone among themselves, and afterwards told + stories. The night was rather chilly. The second day nobody spoke. Our + lips were black and our throats afire, and we lay about on the ledge and + glared at one another. Perhaps it’s as well we kept our thoughts to + ourselves. One of the British soldiers began writing some blasphemous rot + on the rock with a bit of pipeclay, about his last dying will, until I + stopped it. As I looked over the edge down into the valley and saw the + river rippling I was nearly tempted to go after the Sepoy. It seemed a + pleasant and desirable thing to go rushing down through the air with + something to drink—or no more thirst at any rate—at the + bottom. I remembered in time, though, that I was the officer in command, + and my duty to set a good example, and that kept me from any such + foolishness. + </p> + <p> + “Yet, thinking of that, put an idea into my head. I got up and + looked at the tent and tent ropes, and wondered why I had not thought of + it before. Then I came and peered over the cliff again. This time the + height seemed greater and the pose of the Sepoy rather more painful. But + it was that or nothing. And to cut it short, I parachuted. + </p> + <p> + “I got a big circle of canvas out of the tent, about three times the + size of that table-cover, and plugged the hole in the centre, and I tied + eight ropes round it to meet in the middle and make a parachute. The other + chaps lay about and watched me as though they thought it was a new kind of + delirium. Then I explained my notion to the two British soldiers and how I + meant to do it, and as soon as the short dusk had darkened into night, I + risked it. They held the thing high up, and I took a run the whole length + of the ledge. The thing filled with air like a sail, but at the edge I + will confess I funked and pulled up. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I stopped I was ashamed of myself—as well I might + be in front of privates—and went back and started again. Off I + jumped this time—with a kind of sob, I remember—clean into the + air, with the big white sail bellying out above me. + </p> + <p> + “I must have thought at a frightful pace. It seemed a long time + before I was sure that the thing meant to keep steady. At first it heeled + sideways. Then I noticed the face of the rock which seemed to be streaming + up past me, and me motionless. Then I looked down and saw in the darkness + the river and the dead Sepoy rushing up towards me. But in the indistinct + light I also saw three Chins, seemingly aghast at the sight of me, and + that the Sepoy was decapitated. At that I wanted to go back again. + </p> + <p> + “Then my boot was in the mouth of one, and in a moment he and I were + in a heap with the canvas fluttering down on the top of us. I fancy I + dashed out his brains with my foot. I expected nothing more than to be + brained myself by the other two, but the poor heathen had never heard of + Baldwin, and incontinently bolted. + </p> + <p> + “I struggled out of the tangle of dead Chin and canvas, and looked + round. About ten paces off lay the head of the Sepoy staring in the + moonlight. Then I saw the water and went and drank. There wasn’t a + sound in the world but the footsteps of the departing Chins, a faint shout + from above, and the gluck of the water. So soon as I had drunk my full I + started off down the river. + </p> + <p> + “That about ends the explanation of the flying man story. I never + met a soul the whole eight miles of the way. I got to Walters’ camp + by ten o’clock, and a born idiot of a sentinel had the cheek to fire + at me as I came trotting out of the darkness. So soon as I had hammered my + story into Winter’s thick skull, about fifty men started up the + valley to clear the Chins out and get our men down. But for my own part I + had too good a thirst to provoke it by going with them. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard what kind of a yarn the Chins made of it. Wings as + long as a mule, eh?—And black feathers! The gay lieutenant bird! + Well, well.” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant meditated cheerfully for a moment. Then he added, “You + would scarcely credit it, but when they got to the ridge at last, they + found two more of the Sepoys had jumped over.” + </p> + <p> + “The rest were all right?” asked the Ethnologist. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the lieutenant; “the rest were all right, + barring a certain thirst, you know.” + </p> + <p> + And at the memory he helped himself to soda and whisky again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DIAMOND MAKER + </h2> + <p> + Some business had detained me in Chancery Lane until nine in the evening, + and thereafter, having some inkling of a headache, I was disinclined + either for entertainment or further work. So much of the sky as the high + cliffs of that narrow caqon of traffic left visible spoke of a serene + night, and I determined to make my way down to the Embankment, and rest my + eyes and cool my head by watching the variegated lights upon the river. + Beyond comparison the night is the best time for this place; a merciful + darkness hides the dirt of the waters, and the lights of this transition + age, red, glaring orange, gas-yellow, and electric white, are set in + shadowy outlines of every possible shade between grey and deep purple. + Through the arches of Waterloo Bridge a hundred points of light mark the + sweep of the Embankment, and above its parapet rise the towers of + Westminster, warm grey against the starlight. The black river goes by with + only a rare ripple breaking its silence, and disturbing the reflections of + the lights that swim upon its surface. + </p> + <p> + “A warm night,” said a voice at my side. + </p> + <p> + I turned my head, and saw the profile of a man who was leaning over the + parapet beside me. It was a refined face, not unhandsome, though pinched + and pale enough, and the coat collar turned up and pinned round the throat + marked his status in life as sharply as a uniform. I felt I was committed + to the price of a bed and breakfast if I answered him. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him curiously. Would he have anything to tell me worth the + money, or was he the common incapable—incapable even of telling his + own story? There was a quality of intelligence in his forehead and eyes, + and a certain tremulousness in his nether lip that decided me. + </p> + <p> + “Very warm,” said I; “but not too warm for us here.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, still looking across the water, “it is + pleasant enough here ... just now.” + </p> + <p> + “It is good,” he continued after a pause, “to find + anything so restful as this in London. After one has been fretting about + business all day, about getting on, meeting obligations, and parrying + dangers, I do not know what one would do if it were not for such pacific + corners.” He spoke with long pauses between the sentences. “You + must know a little of the irksome labour of the world, or you would not be + here. But I doubt if you can be so brain-weary and footsore as I am ... + Bah! Sometimes I doubt if the game is worth the candle. I feel inclined to + throw the whole thing over—name, wealth, and position—and take + to some modest trade. But I know if I abandoned my ambition—hardly + as she uses me—I should have nothing but remorse left for the rest + of my days.” + </p> + <p> + He became silent. I looked at him in astonishment. If ever I saw a man + hopelessly hard-up it was the man in front of me. He was ragged and he was + dirty, unshaven and unkempt; he looked as though he had been left in a + dust-bin for a week. And he was talking to <i>me</i> of the irksome + worries of a large business. I almost laughed outright. Either he was mad + or playing a sorry jest on his own poverty. + </p> + <p> + “If high aims and high positions,” said I, “have their + drawbacks of hard work and anxiety, they have their compensations. + Influence, the power of doing good, of assisting those weaker and poorer + than ourselves; and there is even a certain gratification in display....” + </p> + <p> + My banter under the circumstances was in very vile taste. I spoke on the + spur of the contrast of his appearance and speech. I was sorry even while + I was speaking. + </p> + <p> + He turned a haggard but very composed face upon me. Said he: “I + forget myself. Of course you would not understand.” + </p> + <p> + He measured me for a moment. “No doubt it is very absurd. You will + not believe me even when I tell you, so that it is fairly safe to tell + you. And it will be a comfort to tell someone. I really have a big + business in hand, a very big business. But there are troubles just now. + The fact is ... I make diamonds.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said I, “you are out of work just at + present?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sick of being disbelieved,” he said impatiently, and + suddenly unbuttoning his wretched coat he pulled out a little canvas bag + that was hanging by a cord round his neck. From this he produced a brown + pebble. “I wonder if you know enough to know what that is?” He + handed it to me. + </p> + <p> + Now, a year or so ago, I had occupied my leisure in taking a London + science degree, so that I have a smattering of physics and mineralogy. The + thing was not unlike an uncut diamond of the darker sort, though far too + large, being almost as big as the top of my thumb. I took it, and saw it + had the form of a regular octahedron, with the curved faces peculiar to + the most precious of minerals. I took out my penknife and tried to scratch + it—vainly. Leaning forward towards the gas-lamp, I tried the thing + on my watch-glass, and scored a white line across that with the greatest + ease. + </p> + <p> + I looked at my interlocutor with rising curiosity. “It certainly is + rather like a diamond. But, if so, it is a Behemoth of diamonds. Where did + you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I made it,” he said. “Give it back to me.” + </p> + <p> + He replaced it hastily and buttoned his jacket. “I will sell it you + for one hundred pounds,” he suddenly whispered eagerly. With that my + suspicions returned. The thing might, after all, be merely a lump of that + almost equally hard substance, corundum, with an accidental resemblance in + shape to the diamond. Or if it was a diamond, how came he by it, and why + should he offer it at a hundred pounds? + </p> + <p> + We looked into one another’s eyes. He seemed eager, but honestly + eager. At that moment I believed it was a diamond he was trying to sell. + Yet I am a poor man, a hundred pounds would leave a visible gap in my + fortunes and no sane man would buy a diamond by gaslight from a ragged + tramp on his personal warranty only. Still, a diamond that size conjured + up a vision of many thousands of pounds. Then, thought I, such a stone + could scarcely exist without being mentioned in every book on gems, and + again I called to mind the stories of contraband and light-fingered + Kaffirs at the Cape. I put the question of purchase on one side. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get it?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I made it.” + </p> + <p> + I had heard something of Moissan, but I knew his artificial diamonds were + very small. I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know something of this kind of thing. I will tell you a + little about myself. Perhaps then you may think better of the purchase.” + He turned round with his back to the river, and put his hands in his + pockets. He sighed. “I know you will not believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Diamonds,” he began—and as he spoke his voice lost its + faint flavour of the tramp and assumed something of the easy tone of an + educated man—“are to be made by throwing carbon out of + combination in a suitable flux and under a suitable pressure; the carbon + crystallises out, not as black-lead or charcoal-powder, but as small + diamonds. So much has been known to chemists for years, but no one yet has + hit upon exactly the right flux in which to melt up the carbon, or exactly + the right pressure for the best results. Consequently the diamonds made by + chemists are small and dark, and worthless as jewels. Now I, you know, + have given up my life to this problem—given my life to it. + </p> + <p> + “I began to work at the conditions of diamond making when I was + seventeen, and now I am thirty-two. It seemed to me that it might take all + the thought and energies of a man for ten years, or twenty years, but, + even if it did, the game was still worth the candle. Suppose one to have + at last just hit the right trick, before the secret got out and diamonds + became as common as coal, one might realise millions. Millions!” + </p> + <p> + He paused and looked for my sympathy. His eyes shone hungrily. “To + think,” said he, “that I am on the verge of it all, and here! + </p> + <p> + “I had,” he proceeded, “about a thousand pounds when I + was twenty-one, and this, I thought, eked out by a little teaching, would + keep my researches going. A year or two was spent in study, at Berlin + chiefly, and then I continued on my own account. The trouble was the + secrecy. You see, if once I had let out what I was doing, other men might + have been spurred on by my belief in the practicability of the idea; and I + do not pretend to be such a genius as to have been sure of coming in + first, in the case of a race for the discovery. And you see it was + important that if I really meant to make a pile, people should not know it + was an artificial process and capable of turning out diamonds by the ton. + So I had to work all alone. At first I had a little laboratory, but as my + resources began to run out I had to conduct my experiments in a wretched + unfurnished room in Kentish Town, where I slept at last on a straw + mattress on the floor among all my apparatus. The money simply flowed + away. I grudged myself everything except scientific appliances. I tried to + keep things going by a little teaching, but I am not a very good teacher, + and I have no university degree, nor very much education except in + chemistry, and I found I had to give a lot of time and labour for precious + little money. But I got nearer and nearer the thing. Three years ago I + settled the problem of the composition of the flux, and got near the + pressure by putting this flux of mine and a certain carbon composition + into a closed-up gun-barrel, filling up with water, sealing tightly, and + heating.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Rather risky,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It burst, and smashed all my windows and a lot of my + apparatus; but I got a kind of diamond powder nevertheless. Following out + the problem of getting a big pressure upon the molten mixture from which + the things were to crystallise, I hit upon some researches of Daubrie’s + at the Paris <i>Laboratorie des Poudres et Salpjtres</i>. He exploded + dynamite in a tightly screwed steel cylinder, too strong to burst, and I + found he could crush rocks into a muck not unlike the South African bed in + which diamonds are found. It was a tremendous strain on my resources, but + I got a steel cylinder made for my purpose after his pattern. I put in all + my stuff and my explosives, built up a fire in my furnace, put the whole + concern in, and—went out for a walk.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing at his matter-of-fact manner. “Did you not + think it would blow up the house? Were there other people in the place?” + </p> + <p> + “It was in the interest of science,” he said, ultimately. + “There was a costermonger family on the floor below, a + begging-letter writer in the room behind mine, and two flower-women were + upstairs. Perhaps it was a bit thoughtless. But possibly some of them were + out. + </p> + <p> + “When I came back the thing was just where I left it, among the + white-hot coals. The explosive hadn’t burst the case. And then I had + a problem to face. You know time is an important element in + crystallisation. If you hurry the process the crystals are small—it + is only by prolonged standing that they grow to any size. I resolved to + let this apparatus cool for two years, letting the temperature go down + slowly during that time. And I was now quite out of money; and with a big + fire and the rent of my room, as well as my hunger to satisfy, I had + scarcely a penny in the world. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly tell you all the shifts I was put to while I was + making the diamonds. I have sold newspapers, held horses, opened + cab-doors. For many weeks I addressed envelopes. I had a place as + assistant to a man who owned a barrow, and used to call down one side of + the road while he called down the other. Once for a week I had absolutely + nothing to do, and I begged. What a week that was! One day the fire was + going out and I had eaten nothing all day, and a little chap taking his + girl out, gave me sixpence—to show-off. Thank heaven for vanity! How + the fish-shops smelt! But I went and spent it all on coals, and had the + furnace bright red again, and then—Well, hunger makes a fool of a + man. + </p> + <p> + “At last, three weeks ago, I let the fire out. I took my cylinder + and unscrewed it while it was still so hot that it punished my hands, and + I scraped out the crumbling lava-like mass with a chisel, and hammered it + into a powder upon an iron plate. And I found three big diamonds and five + small ones. As I sat on the floor hammering, my door opened, and my + neighbour, the begging-letter writer, came in. He was drunk—as he + usually is. ‘’Nerchist,’ said he. ‘You’re + drunk,’ said I. 'Structive scoundrel,’ said he. ‘Go to + your father,’ said I, meaning the Father of Lies. ‘Never you + mind,’ said he, and gave me a cunning wink, and hiccuped, and + leaning up against the door, with his other eye against the door-post, + began to babble of how he had been prying in my room, and how he had gone + to the police that morning, and how they had taken down everything he had + to say—‘’siffiwas a ge’m,’ said he. Then I + suddenly realised I was in a hole. Either I should have to tell these + police my little secret, and get the whole thing blown upon, or be lagged + as an Anarchist. So I went up to my neighbour and took him by the collar, + and rolled him about a bit, and then I gathered up my diamonds and cleared + out. The evening newspapers called my den the Kentish-Town Bomb Factory. + And now I cannot part with the things for love or money. + </p> + <p> + “If I go in to respectable jewellers they ask me to wait, and go and + whisper to a clerk to fetch a policeman, and then I say I cannot wait. And + I found out a receiver of stolen goods, and he simply stuck to the one I + gave him and told me to prosecute if I wanted it back. I am going about + now with several hundred thousand pounds-worth of diamonds round my neck, + and without either food or shelter. You are the first person I have taken + into my confidence. But I like your face and I am hard-driven.” + </p> + <p> + He looked into my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It would be madness,” said I, “for me to buy a diamond + under the circumstances. Besides, I do not carry hundreds of pounds about + in my pocket. Yet I more than half believe your story. I will, if you + like, do this: come to my office to-morrow....” + </p> + <p> + “You think I am a thief!” said he keenly. “You will tell + the police. I am not coming into a trap.” + </p> + <p> + “Somehow I am assured you are no thief. Here is my card. Take that, + anyhow. You need not come to any appointment. Come when you will.” + </p> + <p> + He took the card, and an earnest of my good-will. + </p> + <p> + “Think better of it and come,” said I. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head doubtfully. “I will pay back your half-crown with + interest some day—such interest as will amaze you,” said he. + “Anyhow, you will keep the secret?... Don’t follow me.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the road and went into the darkness towards the little steps + under the archway leading into Essex Street, and I let him go. And that + was the last I ever saw of him. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards I had two letters from him asking me to send bank-notes—not + cheques—to certain addresses. I weighed the matter over, and took + what I conceived to be the wisest course. Once he called upon me when I + was out. My urchin described him as a very thin, dirty, and ragged man, + with a dreadful cough. He left no message. That was the finish of him so + far as my story goes. I wonder sometimes what has become of him. Was he an + ingenious monomaniac, or a fraudulent dealer in pebbles, or has he really + made diamonds as he asserted? The latter is just sufficiently credible to + make me think at times that I have missed the most brilliant opportunity + of my life. He may of course be dead, and his diamonds carelessly thrown + aside—one, I repeat, was almost as big as my thumb. Or he may be + still wandering about trying to sell the things. It is just possible he + may yet emerge upon society, and, passing athwart my heavens in the serene + altitude sacred to the wealthy and the well-advertised, reproach me + silently for my want of enterprise. I sometimes think I might at least + have risked five pounds. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AEPYORNIS ISLAND + </h2> + <p> + The man with the scarred face leant over the table and looked at my + bundle. + </p> + <p> + “Orchids?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A few,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Cypripediums,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Chiefly,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Anything new? I thought not. <i>I</i> did these islands twenty-five—twenty-seven + years ago. If you find anything new here—well it’s brand new. + I didn’t leave much.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not a collector,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I was young then,” he went on. “Lord! how I used to fly + round.” He seemed to take my measure. “I was in the East + Indies two years, and in Brazil seven. Then I went to Madagascar.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a few explorers by name,” I said, anticipating a yarn. + “Whom did you collect for?” + </p> + <p> + “Dawsons. I wonder if you’ve heard the name of Butcher ever?” + </p> + <p> + “Butcher—Butcher?” The name seemed vaguely present in my + memory; then I recalled <i>Butcher</i> v. <i>Dawson</i>. “Why!” + said I, “you are the man who sued them for four years’ salary—got + cast away on a desert island ...” + </p> + <p> + “Your servant,” said the man with the scar, bowing. “Funny + case, wasn’t it? Here was me, making a little fortune on that + island, doing nothing for it neither, and them quite unable to give me + notice. It often used to amuse me thinking over it while I was there. I + did calculations of it—big—all over the blessed atoll in + ornamental figuring.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen?” said I. “I don’t rightly + remember the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Well.... You’ve heard of the Aepyornis?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather. Andrews was telling me of a new species he was working on + only a month or so ago. Just before I sailed. They’ve got a thigh + bone, it seems, nearly a yard long. Monster the thing must have been!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” said the man with the scar. “It <i>was</i> + a monster. Sinbad’s roc was just a legend of ’em. But when did + they find these bones?” + </p> + <p> + “Three or four years ago—‘91, I fancy. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because <i>I</i> found ’em—Lord!—it’s + nearly twenty years ago. If Dawsons hadn’t been silly about that + salary they might have made a perfect ring in ’em.... <i>I</i> + couldn’t help the infernal boat going adrift.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, “I suppose it’s the same place. A kind of swamp + about ninety miles north of Antananarivo. Do you happen to know? You have + to go to it along the coast by boats. You don’t happen to remember, + perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t. I fancy Andrews said something about a swamp.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be the same. It’s on the east coast. And somehow + there’s something in the water that keeps things from decaying. Like + creosote it smells. It reminded me of Trinidad. Did they get any more + eggs? Some of the eggs I found were a foot-and-a-half long. The swamp goes + circling round, you know, and cuts off this bit. It’s mostly salt, + too. Well.... What a time I had of it! I found the things quite by + accident. We went for eggs, me and two native chaps, in one of those rum + canoes all tied together, and found the bones at the same time. We had a + tent and provisions for four days, and we pitched on one of the firmer + places. To think of it brings that odd tarry smell back even now. It’s + funny work. You go probing into the mud with iron rods, you know. Usually + the egg gets smashed. I wonder how long it is since these Aepyornises + really lived. The missionaries say the natives have legends about when + they were alive, but I never heard any such stories myself.[A] But + certainly those eggs we got were as fresh as if they had been new laid. + Fresh! Carrying them down to the boat one of my nigger chaps dropped one + on a rock and it smashed. How I lammed into the beggar! But sweet it was, + as if it was new laid, not even smelly, and its mother dead these four + hundred years, perhaps. Said a centipede had bit him. However, I’m + getting off the straight with the story. It had taken us all day to dig + into the slush and get these eggs out unbroken, and we were all covered + with beastly black mud, and naturally I was cross. So far as I knew they + were the only eggs that have ever been got out not even cracked. I went + afterwards to see the ones they have at the Natural History Museum in + London; all of them were cracked and just stuck together like a mosaic, + and bits missing. Mine were perfect, and I meant to blow them when I got + back. Naturally I was annoyed at the silly duffer dropping three hours’ + work just on account of a centipede. I hit him about rather.” + </p> + <p> + A [ No European is known to + have seen a live Aepyornis, with the doubtful exception of MacAndrew, who + visited Madagascar in 1745.—H.G.W.] + </p> + <p> + The man with the scar took out a clay pipe. I placed my pouch before him. + He filled up absent-mindedly. + </p> + <p> + “How about the others? Did you get those home? I don’t + remember—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the queer part of the story. I had three others. + Perfectly fresh eggs. Well, we put ’em in the boat, and then I went + up to the tent to make some coffee, leaving my two heathens down by the + beach—the one fooling about with his sting and the other helping + him. It never occurred to me that the beggars would take advantage of the + peculiar position I was in to pick a quarrel. But I suppose the centipede + poison and the kicking I had given him had upset the one—he was + always a cantankerous sort—and he persuaded the other. + </p> + <p> + “I remember I was sitting and smoking and boiling up the water over + a spirit-lamp business I used to take on these expeditions. Incidentally I + was admiring the swamp under the sunset. All black and blood-red it was, + in streaks—a beautiful sight. And up beyond the land rose grey and + hazy to the hills, and the sky behind them red, like a furnace mouth. And + fifty yards behind the back of me was these blessed heathen—quite + regardless of the tranquil air of things—plotting to cut off with + the boat and leave me all alone with three days’ provisions and a + canvas tent, and nothing to drink whatsoever, beyond a little keg of + water. I heard a kind of yelp behind me, and there they were in this canoe + affair—it wasn’t properly a boat—and, perhaps, twenty + yards from land. I realised what was up in a moment. My gun was in the + tent, and, besides, I had no bullets—only duck shot. They knew that. + But I had a little revolver in my pocket, and I pulled that out as I ran + down to the beach. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come back!’ says I, flourishing it. + </p> + <p> + “They jabbered something at me, and the man that broke the egg + jeered. I aimed at the other—because he was unwounded and had the + paddle, and I missed. They laughed. However, I wasn’t beat. I knew I + had to keep cool, and I tried him again and made him jump with the whang + of it. He didn’t laugh that time. The third time I got his head, and + over he went, and the paddle with him. It was a precious lucky shot for a + revolver. I reckon it was fifty yards. He went right under. I don’t + know if he was shot, or simply stunned and drowned. Then I began to shout + to the other chap to come back, but he huddled up in the canoe and refused + to answer. So I fired out my revolver at him and never got near him. + </p> + <p> + “I felt a precious fool, I can tell you. There I was on this rotten, + black beach, flat swamp all behind me, and the flat sea, cold after the + sunset, and just this black canoe drifting steadily out to sea. I tell you + I damned Dawsons and Jamrachs and Museums and all the rest of it just to + rights. I bawled to this nigger to come back, until my voice went up into + a scream. + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing for it but to swim after him and take my luck + with the sharks. So I opened my clasp-knife and put it in my mouth, and + took off my clothes and waded in. As soon as I was in the water I lost + sight of the canoe, but I aimed, as I judged, to head it off. I hoped the + man in it was too bad to navigate it, and that it would keep on drifting + in the same direction. Presently it came up over the horizon again to the + south-westward about. The afterglow of sunset was well over now and the + dim of night creeping up. The stars were coming through the blue. I swum + like a champion, though my legs and arms were soon aching. + </p> + <p> + “However, I came up to him by the time the stars were fairly out. As + it got darker I began to see all manner of glowing things in the water—phosphorescence, + you know. At times it made me giddy. I hardly knew which was stars and + which was phosphorescence, and whether I was swimming on my head or my + heels. The canoe was as black as sin, and the ripple under the bows like + liquid fire. I was naturally chary of clambering up into it. I was anxious + to see what he was up to first. He seemed to be lying cuddled up in a lump + in the bows, and the stern was all out of water. The thing kept turning + round slowly as it drifted—kind of waltzing, don’t you know. I + went to the stern, and pulled it down, expecting him to wake up. Then I + began to clamber in with my knife in my hand, and ready for a rush. But he + never stirred. So there I sat in the stern of the little canoe, drifting + away over the calm phosphorescent sea, and with all the host of the stars + above me, waiting for something to happen. + </p> + <p> + “After a long time I called him by name, but he never answered. I + was too tired to take any risks by going along to him. So we sat there. I + fancy I dozed once or twice. When the dawn came I saw he was as dead as a + doornail and all puffed up and purple. My three eggs and the bones were + lying in the middle of the canoe, and the keg of water and some coffee and + biscuits wrapped in a Cape <i>Argus</i> by his feet, and a tin of + methylated spirit underneath him. There was no paddle, nor, in fact, + anything except the spirit-tin that one could use as one, so I settled to + drift until I was picked up. I held an inquest on him, brought in a + verdict against some snake, scorpion, or centipede unknown, and sent him + overboard. + </p> + <p> + “After that I had a drink of water and a few biscuits, and took a + look round. I suppose a man low down as I was don’t see very far; + leastways, Madagascar was clean out of sight, and any trace of land at + all. I saw a sail going south-westward—looked like a schooner, but + her hull never came up. Presently the sun got high in the sky and began to + beat down upon me. Lord! It pretty near made my brains boil. I tried + dipping my head in the sea, but after a while my eye fell on the Cape <i>Argus</i>, + and I lay down flat in the canoe and spread this over me. Wonderful things + these newspapers! I never read one through thoroughly before, but it’s + odd what you get up to when you’re alone, as I was. I suppose I read + that blessed old Cape <i>Argus</i> twenty times. The pitch in the canoe + simply reeked with the heat and rose up into big blisters. + </p> + <p> + “I drifted ten days,” said the man with the scar. “It’s + a little thing in the telling, isn’t it? Every day was like the + last. Except in the morning and the evening I never kept a look-out even—the + blaze was so infernal. I didn’t see a sail after the first three + days, and those I saw took no notice of me. About the sixth night a ship + went by scarcely half a mile away from me, with all its lights ablaze and + its ports open, looking like a big firefly. There was music aboard. I + stood up and shouted and screamed at it. The second day I broached one of + the Aepyornis eggs, scraped the shell away at the end bit by bit, and + tried it, and I was glad to find it was good enough to eat. A bit flavoury—not + bad, I mean—but with something of the taste of a duck’s egg. + There was a kind of circular patch, about six inches across, on one side + of the yolk, and with streaks of blood and a white mark like a ladder in + it that I thought queer, but I did not understand what this meant at the + time, and I wasn’t inclined to be particular. The egg lasted me + three days, with biscuits and a drink of water. I chewed coffee berries + too—invigorating stuff. The second egg I opened about the eighth + day, and it scared me.” + </p> + <p> + The man with the scar paused. “Yes,” he said, “developing.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you find it hard to believe. <i>I</i> did, with the + thing before me. There the egg had been, sunk in that cold black mud, + perhaps three hundred years. But there was no mistaking it. There was the—what + is it?—embryo, with its big head and curved back, and its heart + beating under its throat, and the yolk shrivelled up and great membranes + spreading inside of the shell and all over the yolk. Here was I hatching + out the eggs of the biggest of all extinct birds, in a little canoe in the + midst of the Indian Ocean. If old Dawson had known that! It was worth four + years’ salary. What do <i>you</i> think? + </p> + <p> + “However, I had to eat that precious thing up, every bit of it, + before I sighted the reef, and some of the mouthfuls were beastly + unpleasant. I left the third one alone. I held it up to the light, but the + shell was too thick for me to get any notion of what might be happening + inside; and though I fancied I heard blood pulsing, it might have been the + rustle in my own ears, like what you listen to in a seashell. + </p> + <p> + “Then came the atoll. Came out of the sunrise, as it were, suddenly, + close up to me. I drifted straight towards it until I was about half a + mile from shore, not more, and then the current took a turn, and I had to + paddle as hard as I could with my hands and bits of the Aepyornis shell to + make the place. However, I got there. It was just a common atoll about + four miles round, with a few trees growing and a spring in one place, and + the lagoon full of parrot-fish. I took the egg ashore and put it in a good + place well above the tide lines and in the sun, to give it all the chance + I could, and pulled the canoe up safe, and loafed about prospecting. It’s + rum how dull an atoll is. As soon as I had found a spring all the interest + seemed to vanish. When I was a kid I thought nothing could be finer or + more adventurous than the Robinson Crusoe business, but that place was as + monotonous as a book of sermons. I went round finding eatable things and + generally thinking; but I tell you I was bored to death before the first + day was out. It shows my luck—the very day I landed the weather + changed. A thunderstorm went by to the north and flicked its wing over the + island, and in the night there came a drencher and a howling wind slap + over us. It wouldn’t have taken much, you know, to upset that canoe. + </p> + <p> + “I was sleeping under the canoe, and the egg was luckily among the + sand higher up the beach, and the first thing I remember was a sound like + a hundred pebbles hitting the boat at once, and a rush of water over my + body. I’d been dreaming of Antananarivo, and I sat up and holloaed + to Intoshi to ask her what the devil was up, and clawed out at the chair + where the matches used to be. Then I remembered where I was. There were + phosphorescent waves rolling up as if they meant to eat me, and all the + rest of the night as black as pitch. The air was simply yelling. The + clouds seemed down on your head almost, and the rain fell as if heaven was + sinking and they were baling out the waters above the firmament. One great + roller came writhing at me, like a fiery serpent, and I bolted. Then I + thought of the canoe, and ran down to it as the water went hissing back + again; but the thing had gone. I wondered about the egg then, and felt my + way to it. It was all right and well out of reach of the maddest waves, so + I sat down beside it and cuddled it for company. Lord! what a night that + was! + </p> + <p> + “The storm was over before the morning. There wasn’t a rag of + cloud left in the sky when the dawn came, and all along the beach there + were bits of plank scattered—which was the disarticulated skeleton, + so to speak, of my canoe. However, that gave me something to do, for, + taking advantage of two of the trees being together, I rigged up a kind of + storm-shelter with these vestiges. And that day the egg hatched. + </p> + <p> + “Hatched, sir, when my head was pillowed on it and I was asleep. I + heard a whack and felt a jar and sat up, and there was the end of the egg + pecked out and a rum little brown head looking out at me. ‘Lord!’ + I said, ‘you’re welcome’; and with a little difficulty + he came out. + </p> + <p> + “He was a nice friendly little chap, at first, about the size of a + small hen—very much like most other young birds, only bigger. His + plumage was a dirty brown to begin with, with a sort of grey scab that + fell off it very soon, and scarcely feathers—a kind of downy hair. I + can hardly express how pleased I was to see him. I tell you, Robinson + Crusoe don’t make near enough of his loneliness. But here was + interesting company. He looked at me and winked his eye from the front + backwards, like a hen, and gave a chirp and began to peck about at once, + as though being hatched three hundred years too late was just nothing. + ‘Glad to see you, Man Friday!’ says I, for I had naturally + settled he was to be called Man Friday if ever he was hatched, as soon as + ever I found the egg in the canoe had developed. I was a bit anxious about + his feed, so I gave him a lump of raw parrot-fish at once. He took it, and + opened his beak for more. I was glad of that, for, under the + circumstances, if he’d been at all fanciful, I should have had to + eat him after all. You’d be surprised what an interesting bird that + Aepyornis chick was. He followed me about from the very beginning. He used + to stand by me and watch while I fished in the lagoon, and go shares in + anything I caught. And he was sensible, too. There were nasty green warty + things, like pickled gherkins, used to lie about on the beach, and he + tried one of these and it upset him. He never even looked at any of them + again. + </p> + <p> + “And he grew. You could almost see him grow. And as I was never much + of a society man his quiet, friendly ways suited me to a T. For nearly two + years we were as happy as we could be on that island. I had no business + worries, for I knew my salary was mounting up at Dawsons’. We would + see a sail now and then, but nothing ever came near us. I amused myself, + too, by decorating the island with designs worked in sea-urchins and fancy + shells of various kinds. I put AEPYORNIS ISLAND all round the place very + nearly, in big letters, like what you see done with coloured stones at + railway stations in the old country, and mathematical calculations and + drawings of various sorts. And I used to lie watching the blessed bird + stalking round and growing, growing; and think how I could make a living + out of him by showing him about if I ever got taken off. After his first + moult he began to get handsome, with a crest and a blue wattle, and a lot + of green feathers at the behind of him. And then I used to puzzle whether + Dawsons had any right to claim him or not. Stormy weather and in the rainy + season we lay snug under the shelter I had made out of the old canoe, and + I used to tell him lies about my friends at home. And after a storm we + would go round the island together to see if there was any drift. It was a + kind of idyll, you might say. If only I had had some tobacco it would have + been simply just like Heaven. + </p> + <p> + “It was about the end of the second year our little paradise went + wrong. Friday was then about fourteen feet high to the bill of him, with a + big, broad head like the end of a pickaxe, and two huge brown eyes with + yellow rims, set together like a man’s—not out of sight of + each other like a hen’s. His plumage was fine—none of the + half-mourning style of your ostrich—more like a cassowary as far as + colour and texture go. And then it was he began to cock his comb at me and + give himself airs, and show signs of a nasty temper.... + </p> + <p> + “At last came a time when my fishing had been rather unlucky, and he + began to hang about me in a queer, meditative way. I thought he might have + been eating sea-cucumbers or something, but it was really just discontent + on his part. I was hungry too, and when at last I landed a fish I wanted + it for myself. Tempers were short that morning on both sides. He pecked at + it and grabbed it, and I gave him a whack on the head to make him leave + go. And at that he went for me. Lord!... + </p> + <p> + “He gave me this in the face.” The man indicated his scar. + “Then he kicked me. It was like a cart-horse. I got up, and seeing + he hadn’t finished, I started off full tilt with my arms doubled up + over my face. But he ran on those gawky legs of his faster than a + racehorse, and kept landing out at me with sledge hammer kicks, and + bringing his pickaxe down on the back of my head. I made for the lagoon, + and went in up to my neck. He stopped at the water, for he hated getting + his feet wet, and began to make a shindy, something like a peacock’s, + only hoarser. He started strutting up and down the beach. I’ll admit + I felt small to see this blessed fossil lording it there. And my head and + face were all bleeding, and—well, my body just one jelly of bruises. + </p> + <p> + “I decided to swim across the lagoon and leave him alone for a bit, + until the affair blew over. I shinned up the tallest palm-tree, and sat + there thinking of it all. I don’t suppose I ever felt so hurt by + anything before or since. It was the brutal ingratitude of the creature. I’d + been more than a brother to him. I’d hatched him, educated him. A + great gawky, out-of-date bird! And me a human being—heir of the ages + and all that. + </p> + <p> + “I thought after a time he’d begin to see things in that light + himself, and feel a little sorry for his behaviour. I thought if I was to + catch some nice little bits of fish, perhaps, and go to him presently in a + casual kind of way, and offer them to him, he might do the sensible thing. + It took me some time to learn how unforgiving and cantankerous an extinct + bird can be. Malice! + </p> + <p> + “I won’t tell you all the little devices I tried to get that + bird round again. I simply can’t. It makes my cheek burn with shame + even now to think of the snubs and buffets I had from this infernal + curiosity. I tried violence. I chucked lumps of coral at him from a safe + distance, but he only swallowed them. I shied my open knife at him and + almost lost it, though it was too big for him to swallow. I tried starving + him out and struck fishing, but he took to picking along the beach at low + water after worms, and rubbed along on that. Half my time I spent up to my + neck in the lagoon, and the rest up the palm-trees. One of them was + scarcely high enough, and when he caught me up it he had a regular Bank + Holiday with the calves of my legs. It got unbearable. I don’t know + if you have ever tried sleeping up a palm-tree. It gave me the most + horrible nightmares. Think of the shame of it, too! Here was this extinct + animal mooning about my island like a sulky duke, and me not allowed to + rest the sole of my foot on the place. I used to cry with weariness and + vexation. I told him straight that I didn’t mean to be chased about + a desert island by any damned anachronisms. I told him to go and peck a + navigator of his own age. But he only snapped his beak at me. Great ugly + bird—all legs and neck! + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t like to say how long that went on altogether. I’d + have killed him sooner if I’d known how. However, I hit on a way of + settling him at last. It is a South American dodge. I joined all my + fishing-lines together with stems of seaweed and things and made a + stoutish string, perhaps twelve yards in length or more, and I fastened + two lumps of coral rock to the ends of this. It took me some time to do, + because every now and then I had to go into the lagoon or up a tree as the + fancy took me. This I whirled rapidly round my head, and then let it go at + him. The first time I missed, but the next time the string caught his legs + beautifully, and wrapped round them again and again. Over he went. I threw + it standing waist-deep in the lagoon, and as soon as he went down I was + out of the water and sawing at his neck with my knife ... + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like to think of that even now. I felt like a + murderer while I did it, though my anger was hot against him. When I stood + over him and saw him bleeding on the white sand, and his beautiful great + legs and neck writhing in his last agony ... Pah! + </p> + <p> + “With that tragedy loneliness came upon me like a curse. Good Lord! + you can’t imagine how I missed that bird. I sat by his corpse and + sorrowed over him, and shivered as I looked round the desolate, silent + reef. I thought of what a jolly little bird he had been when he was + hatched, and of a thousand pleasant tricks he had played before he went + wrong. I thought if I’d only wounded him I might have nursed him + round into a better understanding. If I’d had any means of digging + into the coral rock I’d have buried him. I felt exactly as if he was + human. As it was, I couldn’t think of eating him, so I put him in + the lagoon, and the little fishes picked him clean. I didn’t even + save the feathers. Then one day a chap cruising about in a yacht had a + fancy to see if my atoll still existed. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t come a moment too soon, for I was about sick enough + of the desolation of it, and only hesitating whether I should walk out + into the sea and finish up the business that way, or fall back on the + green things.... + </p> + <p> + “I sold the bones to a man named Winslow—a dealer near the + British Museum, and he says he sold them to old Havers. It seems Havers + didn’t understand they were extra large, and it was only after his + death they attracted attention. They called ’em Aepyornis—what + was it?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Aepyornis vastus</i>,” said I. “It’s funny, + the very thing was mentioned to me by a friend of mine. When they found an + Aepyornis, with a thigh a yard long, they thought they had reached the top + of the scale, and called him <i>Aepyornis maximus</i>. Then someone turned + up another thighbone four feet six or more, and that they called <i>Aepyornis + Titan</i>. Then your <i>vastus</i> was found after old Havers died, in his + collection, and then a <i>vastissimus</i> turned up.” + </p> + <p> + “Winslow was telling me as much,” said the man with the scar. + “If they get any more Aepyornises, he reckons some scientific swell + will go and burst a bloodvessel. But it was a queer thing to happen to a + man; wasn’t it—altogether?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE REMARKABLE CASE OF DAVIDSON’S EYES + </h2> + <p> + The transitory mental aberration of Sidney Davidson, remarkable enough in + itself, is still more remarkable if Wade’s explanation is to be + credited. It sets one dreaming of the oddest possibilities of + intercommunication in the future, of spending an intercalary five minutes + on the other side of the world, or being watched in our most secret + operations by unsuspected eyes. It happened that I was the immediate + witness of Davidson’s seizure, and so it falls naturally to me to + put the story upon paper. + </p> + <p> + When I say that I was the immediate witness of his seizure, I mean that I + was the first on the scene. The thing happened at the Harlow Technical + College, just beyond the Highgate Archway. He was alone in the larger + laboratory when the thing happened. I was in a smaller room, where the + balances are, writing up some notes. The thunderstorm had completely upset + my work, of course. It was just after one of the louder peals that I + thought I heard some glass smash in the other room. I stopped writing, and + turned round to listen. For a moment I heard nothing; the hail was playing + the devil’s tattoo on the corrugated zinc of the roof. Then came + another sound, a smash—no doubt of it this time. Something heavy had + been knocked off the bench. I jumped up at once and went and opened the + door leading into the big laboratory. + </p> + <p> + I was surprised to hear a queer sort of laugh, and saw Davidson standing + unsteadily in the middle of the room, with a dazzled look on his face. My + first impression was that he was drunk. He did not notice me. He was + clawing out at something invisible a yard in front of his face. He put out + his hand, slowly, rather hesitatingly, and then clutched nothing. “What’s + come to it?” he said. He held up his hands to his face, fingers + spread out. “Great Scot!” he said. The thing happened three or + four years ago, when everyone swore by that personage. Then he began + raising his feet clumsily, as though he had expected to find them glued to + the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Davidson!” cried I. “What’s the matter with you?” + He turned round in my direction and looked about for me. He looked over me + and at me and on either side of me, without the slightest sign of seeing + me. “Waves,” he said; “and a remarkably neat schooner. I’d + swear that was Bellows’ voice. <i>Hullo</i>!” He shouted + suddenly at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + I thought he was up to some foolery. Then I saw littered about his feet + the shattered remains of the best of our electrometers. “What’s + up, man?” said I. “You’ve smashed the electrometer!” + </p> + <p> + “Bellows again!” said he. “Friends left, if my hands are + gone. Something about electrometers. Which way <i>are</i> you, Bellows?” + He suddenly came staggering towards me. “The damned stuff cuts like + butter,” he said. He walked straight into the bench and recoiled. + “None so buttery that!” he said, and stood swaying. + </p> + <p> + I felt scared. “Davidson,” said I, “what on earth’s + come over you?” + </p> + <p> + He looked round him in every direction. “I could swear that was + Bellows. Why don’t you show yourself like a man, Bellows?” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me that he must be suddenly struck blind. I walked round + the table and laid my hand upon his arm. I never saw a man more startled + in my life. He jumped away from me, and came round into an attitude of + self-defence, his face fairly distorted with terror. “Good God!” + he cried. “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s I—Bellows. Confound it, Davidson!” + </p> + <p> + He jumped when I answered him and stared—how can I express it?—right + through me. He began talking, not to me, but to himself. “Here in + broad daylight on a clear beach. Not a place to hide in.” He looked + about him wildly. “Here! I’m <i>off</i>.” He suddenly + turned and ran headlong into the big electro-magnet—so violently + that, as we found afterwards, he bruised his shoulder and jawbone cruelly. + At that he stepped back a pace, and cried out with almost a whimper, + “What, in heaven’s name, has come over me?” He stood, + blanched with terror and trembling violently, with his right arm clutching + his left, where that had collided with the magnet. + </p> + <p> + By that time I was excited and fairly scared. “Davidson,” said + I, “don’t be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + He was startled at my voice, but not so excessively as before. I repeated + my words in as clear and firm a tone as I could assume. “Bellows,” + he said, “is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t you see it’s me?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “I can’t even see it’s myself. Where the + devil are we?” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said I, “in the laboratory.” + </p> + <p> + “The laboratory!” he answered, in a puzzled tone, and put his + hand to his forehead. “I <i>was</i> in the laboratory—till + that flash came, but I’m hanged if I’m there now. What ship is + that?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no ship,” said I. “Do be sensible, old + chap.” + </p> + <p> + “No ship!” he repeated, and seemed to forget my denial + forthwith. “I suppose,” said he, slowly, “we’re + both dead. But the rummy part is I feel just as though I still had a body. + Don’t get used to it all at once, I suppose. The old shop was struck + by lightning, I suppose. Jolly quick thing, Bellows—eigh?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re very much alive. You are in + the laboratory, blundering about. You’ve just smashed a new + electrometer. I don’t envy you when Boyce arrives.” + </p> + <p> + He stared away from me towards the diagrams of cryohydrates. “I must + be deaf,” said he. “They’ve fired a gun, for there goes + the puff of smoke, and I never heard a sound.” + </p> + <p> + I put my hand on his arm again, and this time he was less alarmed. “We + seem to have a sort of invisible bodies,” said he. “By Jove! + there’s a boat coming round the headland. It’s very much like + the old life after all—in a different climate.” + </p> + <p> + I shook his arm. “Davidson,” I cried, “wake up!” + </p> + <h3> + II. + </h3> + <p> + It was just then that Boyce came in. So soon as he spoke Davidson + exclaimed: “Old Boyce! Dead too! What a lark!” I hastened to + explain that Davidson was in a kind of somnambulistic trance. Boyce was + interested at once. We both did all we could to rouse the fellow out of + his extraordinary state. He answered our questions, and asked us some of + his own, but his attention seemed distracted by his hallucination about a + beach and a ship. He kept interpolating observations concerning some boat + and the davits and sails filling with the wind. It made one feel queer, in + the dusky laboratory, to hear him saying such things. + </p> + <p> + He was blind and helpless. We had to walk him down the passage, one at + each elbow, to Boyce’s private room, and while Boyce talked to him + there, and humoured him about this ship idea, I went along the corridor + and asked old Wade to come and look at him. The voice of our Dean sobered + him a little, but not very much. He asked where his hands were, and why he + had to walk about up to his waist in the ground. Wade thought over him a + long time—you know how he knits his brows—and then made him + feel the couch, guiding his hands to it. “That’s a couch,” + said Wade. “The couch in the private room of Professor Boyce. + Horsehair stuffing.” + </p> + <p> + Davidson felt about, and puzzled over it, and answered presently that he + could feel it all right, but he couldn’t see it. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>do</i> you see?” asked Wade. Davidson said he could + see nothing but a lot of sand and broken-up shells. Wade gave him some + other things to feel, telling him what they were, and watching him keenly. + </p> + <p> + “The ship is almost hull down,” said Davidson, presently, <i>apropos</i> + of nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the ship,” said Wade. “Listen to me, + Davidson. Do you know what hallucination means?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” said Davidson. + </p> + <p> + “Well, everything you see is hallucinatory.” + </p> + <p> + “Bishop Berkeley,” said Davidson. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mistake me,” said Wade. “You are alive and + in this room of Boyce’s. But something has happened to your eyes. + You cannot see; you can feel and hear, but not see. Do you follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that I see too much.” Davidson rubbed his + knuckles into his eyes. “Well?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all. Don’t let it perplex you. Bellows, here, + and I will take you home in a cab.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit.” Davidson thought. “Help me to sit down,” + said he, presently; “and now—I’m sorry to trouble you—but + will you tell me all that over again?” + </p> + <p> + Wade repeated it very patiently. Davidson shut his eyes, and pressed his + hands upon his forehead. “Yes,” said he. “It’s + quite right. Now my eyes are shut I know you’re right. That’s + you, Bellows, sitting by me on the couch. I’m in England again. And + we’re in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + Then he opened his eyes, “And there,” said he, “is the + sun just rising, and the yards of the ship, and a tumbled sea, and a + couple of birds flying. I never saw anything so real. And I’m + sitting up to my neck in a bank of sand.” + </p> + <p> + He bent forward and covered his face with his hands. Then he opened his + eyes again. “Dark sea and sunrise! And yet I’m sitting on a + sofa in old Boyce’s room! ... God help me!” + </p> + <h3> + III. + </h3> + <p> + That was the beginning. For three weeks this strange affection of Davidson’s + eyes continued unabated. It was far worse than being blind. He was + absolutely helpless, and had to be fed like a newly-hatched bird, and led + about and undressed. If he attempted to move he fell over things or stuck + himself against walls or doors. After a day or so he got used to hearing + our voices without seeing us, and willingly admitted he was at home, and + that Wade was right in what he told him. My sister, to whom he was + engaged, insisted on coming to see him, and would sit for hours every day + while he talked about this beach of his. Holding her hand seemed to + comfort him immensely. He explained that when we left the College and + drove home—he lived in Hampstead village—it appeared to him as + if we drove right through a sandhill—it was perfectly black until he + emerged again—and through rocks and trees and solid obstacles, and + when he was taken to his own room it made him giddy and almost frantic + with the fear of falling, because going upstairs seemed to lift him thirty + or forty feet above the rocks of his imaginary island. He kept saying he + should smash all the eggs. The end was that he had to be taken down into + his father’s consulting room and laid upon a couch that stood there. + </p> + <p> + He described the island as being a bleak kind of place on the whole, with + very little vegetation, except some peaty stuff, and a lot of bare rock. + There were multitudes of penguins, and they made the rocks white and + disagreeable to see. The sea was often rough, and once there was a + thunderstorm, and he lay and shouted at the silent flashes. Once or twice + seals pulled up on the beach, but only on the first two or three days. He + said it was very funny the way in which the penguins used to waddle right + through him, and how he seemed to lie among them without disturbing them. + </p> + <p> + I remember one odd thing, and that was when he wanted very badly to smoke. + We put a pipe in his hands—he almost poked his eye out with it—and + lit it. But he couldn’t taste anything. I’ve since found it’s + the same with me—I don’t know if it’s the usual case—that + I cannot enjoy tobacco at all unless I can see the smoke. + </p> + <p> + But the queerest part of his vision came when Wade sent him out in a + bath-chair to get fresh air. The Davidsons hired a chair, and got that + deaf and obstinate dependent of theirs, Widgery, to attend to it. Widgery’s + ideas of healthy expeditions were peculiar. My sister, who had been to the + Dogs’ Home, met them in Camden Town, towards King’s Cross, + Widgery trotting along complacently, and Davidson evidently most + distressed, trying in his feeble, blind way to attract Widgery’s + attention. + </p> + <p> + He positively wept when my sister spoke to him. “Oh, get me out of + this horrible darkness!” he said, feeling for her hand. “I + must get out of it, or I shall die.” He was quite incapable of + explaining what was the matter, but my sister decided he must go home, and + presently, as they went up hill towards Hampstead, the horror seemed to + drop from him. He said it was good to see the stars again, though it was + then about noon and a blazing day. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed,” he told me afterwards, “as if I was being + carried irresistibly towards the water. I was not very much alarmed at + first. Of course it was night there—a lovely night.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course?” I asked, for that struck me as odd. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said he. “It’s always night there + when it is day here.... Well, we went right into the water, which was calm + and shining under the moonlight—just a broad swell that seemed to + grow broader and flatter as I came down into it. The surface glistened + just like a skin—it might have been empty space underneath for all I + could tell to the contrary. Very slowly, for I rode slanting into it, the + water crept up to my eyes. Then I went under and the skin seemed to break + and heal again about my eyes. The moon gave a jump up in the sky and grew + green and dim, and fish, faintly glowing, came darting round me—and + things that seemed made of luminous glass, and I passed through a tangle + of seaweeds that shone with an oily lustre. And so I drove down into the + sea, and the stars went out one by one, and the moon grew greener and + darker, and the seaweed became a luminous purple-red. It was all very + faint and mysterious, and everything seemed to quiver. And all the while I + could hear the wheels of the bath-chair creaking, and the footsteps of + people going by, and a man in the distance selling the special <i>Pall + Mall</i>. + </p> + <p> + “I kept sinking down deeper and deeper into the water. It became + inky black about me, not a ray from above came down into that darkness, + and the phosphorescent things grew brighter and brighter. The snaky + branches of the deeper weeds flickered like the flames of spirit lamps; + but, after a time, there were no more weeds. The fishes came staring and + gaping towards me, and into me and through me. I never imagined such + fishes before. They had lines of fire along the sides of them as though + they had been outlined with a luminous pencil. And there was a ghastly + thing swimming backwards with a lot of twining arms. And then I saw, + coming very slowly towards me through the gloom, a hazy mass of light that + resolved itself as it drew nearer into multitudes of fishes, struggling + and darting round something that drifted. I drove on straight towards it, + and presently I saw in the midst of the tumult, and by the light of the + fish, a bit of splintered spar looming over me, and a dark hull tilting + over, and some glowing phosphorescent forms that were shaken and writhed + as the fish bit at them. Then it was I began to try to attract Widgery’s + attention. A horror came upon me. Ugh! I should have driven right into + those half-eaten—things. If your sister had not come! They had great + holes in them, Bellows, and ... Never mind. But it was ghastly!” + </p> + <h3> + IV. + </h3> + <p> + For three weeks Davidson remained in this singular state, seeing what at + the time we imagined was an altogether phantasmal world, and stone blind + to the world around him. Then, one Tuesday, when I called I met old + Davidson in the passage. “He can see his thumb!” the old + gentleman said, in a perfect transport. He was struggling into his + overcoat. “He can see his thumb, Bellows!” he said, with the + tears in his eyes. “The lad will be all right yet.” + </p> + <p> + I rushed in to Davidson. He was holding up a little book before his face, + and looking at it and laughing in a weak kind of way. + </p> + <p> + “It’s amazing,” said he. “There’s a kind of + patch come there.” He pointed with his finger. “I’m on + the rocks as usual, and the penguins are staggering and flapping about as + usual, and there’s been a whale showing every now and then, but it’s + got too dark now to make him out. But put something <i>there</i>, and I + see it—I do see it. It’s very dim and broken in places, but I + see it all the same, like a faint spectre of itself. I found it out this + morning while they were dressing me. It’s like a hole in this + infernal phantom world. Just put your hand by mine. No—not there. + Ah! Yes! I see it. The base of your thumb and a bit of cuff! It looks like + the ghost of a bit of your hand sticking out of the darkling sky. Just by + it there’s a group of stars like a cross coming out.” + </p> + <p> + From that time Davidson began to mend. His account of the change, like his + account of the vision, was oddly convincing. Over patches of his field of + vision, the phantom world grew fainter, grew transparent, as it were, and + through these translucent gaps he began to see dimly the real world about + him. The patches grew in size and number, ran together and spread until + only here and there were blind spots left upon his eyes. He was able to + get up and steer himself about, feed himself once more, read, smoke, and + behave like an ordinary citizen again. At first it was very confusing to + him to have these two pictures overlapping each other like the changing + views of a lantern, but in a little while he began to distinguish the real + from the illusory. + </p> + <p> + At first he was unfeignedly glad, and seemed only too anxious to complete + his cure by taking exercise and tonics. But as that odd island of his + began to fade away from him, he became queerly interested in it. He wanted + particularly to go down into the deep sea again, and would spend half his + time wandering about the low lying parts of London, trying to find the + water-logged wreck he had seen drifting. The glare of real daylight very + soon impressed him so vividly as to blot out everything of his shadowy + world, but of a night time, in a darkened room, he could still see the + white-splashed rocks of the island, and the clumsy penguins staggering to + and fro. But even these grew fainter and fainter, and, at last, soon after + he married my sister, he saw them for the last time. + </p> + <h3> + V. + </h3> + <p> + And now to tell of the queerest thing of all. About two years after his + cure I dined with the Davidsons, and after dinner a man named Atkins + called in. He is a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and a pleasant, talkative + man. He was on friendly terms with my brother-in-law, and was soon on + friendly terms with me. It came out that he was engaged to Davidson’s + cousin, and incidentally he took out a kind of pocket photograph case to + show us a new rendering of <i>fiancie</i>. “And, by-the-by,” + said he, “here’s the old <i>Fulmar</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Davidson looked at it casually. Then suddenly his face lit up. “Good + heavens!” said he. “I could almost swear—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Atkins. + </p> + <p> + “That I had seen that ship before.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t see how you can have. She hasn’t been out of the + South Seas for six years, and before then—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” began Davidson, and then, “Yes—that’s + the ship I dreamt of, I’m sure that’s the ship I dreamt of. + She was standing off an island that swarmed with penguins, and she fired a + gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” said Atkins, who had now heard the particulars of + the seizure. “How the deuce could you dream that?” + </p> + <p> + And then, bit by bit, it came out that on the very day Davidson was + seized, H.M.S. <i>Fulmar</i> had actually been off a little rock to the + south of Antipodes Island. A boat had landed overnight to get penguins’ + eggs, had been delayed, and a thunderstorm drifting up, the boat’s + crew had waited until the morning before rejoining the ship. Atkins had + been one of them, and he corroborated, word for word, the descriptions + Davidson had given of the island and the boat. There is not the slightest + doubt in any of our minds that Davidson has really seen the place. In some + unaccountable way, while he moved hither and thither in London, his sight + moved hither and thither in a manner that corresponded, about this distant + island. <i>How</i> is absolutely a mystery. + </p> + <p> + That completes the remarkable story of Davidson’s eyes. It’s + perhaps the best authenticated case in existence of a real vision at a + distance. Explanation there is none forthcoming, except what Professor + Wade has thrown out. But his explanation invokes the Fourth Dimension, and + a dissertation on theoretical kinds of space. To talk of there being + “a kink in space” seems mere nonsense to me; it may be because + I am no mathematician. When I said that nothing would alter the fact that + the place is eight thousand miles away, he answered that two points might + be a yard away on a sheet of paper and yet be brought together by bending + the paper round. The reader may grasp his argument, but I certainly do + not. His idea seems to be that Davidson, stooping between the poles of the + big electro-magnet, had some extraordinary twist given to his retinal + elements through the sudden change in the field of force due to the + lightning. + </p> + <p> + He thinks, as a consequence of this, that it may be possible to live + visually in one part of the world, while one lives bodily in another. He + has even made some experiments in support of his views; but, so far, he + has simply succeeded in blinding a few dogs. I believe that is the net + result of his work, though I have not seen him for some weeks. Latterly I + have been so busy with my work in connection with the Saint Pancras + installation that I have had little opportunity of calling to see him. But + the whole of his theory seems fantastic to me. The facts concerning + Davidson stand on an altogether different footing, and I can testify + personally to the accuracy of every detail I have given. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LORD OF THE DYNAMOS + </h2> + <p> + The chief attendant of the three dynamos that buzzed and rattled at + Camberwell, and kept the electric railway going, came out of Yorkshire, + and his name was James Holroyd. He was a practical electrician, but fond + of whisky, a heavy, red-haired brute with irregular teeth. He doubted the + existence of the deity, but accepted Carnot’s cycle, and he had read + Shakespeare and found him weak in chemistry. His helper came out of the + mysterious East, and his name was Azuma-zi. But Holroyd called him + Pooh-bah. Holroyd liked a nigger help because he would stand kicking—a + habit with Holroyd—and did not pry into the machinery and try to + learn the ways of it. Certain odd possibilities of the negro mind brought + into abrupt contact with the crown of our civilisation Holroyd never fully + realised, though just at the end he got some inkling of them. + </p> + <p> + To define Azuma-zi was beyond ethnology. He was, perhaps, more negroid + than anything else, though his hair was curly rather than frizzy, and his + nose had a bridge. Moreover, his skin was brown rather than black, and the + whites of his eyes were yellow. His broad cheek-bones and narrow chin gave + his face something of the viperine V. His head, too, was broad behind, and + low and narrow at the forehead, as if his brain had been twisted round in + the reverse way to a European’s. He was short of stature and still + shorter of English. In conversation he made numerous odd noises of no + known marketable value, and his infrequent words were carved and wrought + into heraldic grotesqueness. Holroyd tried to elucidate his religious + beliefs, and—especially after whiskey—lectured to him against + superstition and missionaries. Azuma-zi, however, shirked the discussion + of his gods, even though he was kicked for it. + </p> + <p> + Azuma-zi had come, clad in white but insufficient raiment, out of the + stoke-hole of the <i>Lord Clive</i>, from the Straits Settlements, and + beyond, into London. He had heard even in his youth of the greatness and + riches of London, where all the women are white and fair, and even the + beggars in the streets are white, and he had arrived, with newly-earned + gold coins in his pocket, to worship at the shrine of civilisation. The + day of his landing was a dismal one; the sky was dun, and a wind-worried + drizzle filtered down to the greasy streets, but he plunged boldly into + the delights of Shadwell, and was presently cast up, shattered in health, + civilised in costume, penniless, and, except in matters of the direst + necessity, practically a dumb animal, to toil for James Holroyd and to be + bullied by him in the dynamo shed at Camberwell. And to James Holroyd + bullying was a labour of love. + </p> + <p> + There were three dynamos with their engines at Camberwell. The two that + have been there since the beginning are small machines; the larger one was + new. The smaller machines made a reasonable noise; their straps hummed + over the drums, every now and then the brushes buzzed and fizzled, and the + air churned steadily, whoo! whoo! whoo! between their poles. One was loose + in its foundations and kept the shed vibrating. But the big dynamo drowned + these little noises altogether with the sustained drone of its iron core, + which somehow set part of the ironwork humming. The place made the visitor’s + head reel with the throb, throb, throb of the engines, the rotation of the + big wheels, the spinning ball-valves, the occasional spittings of the + steam, and over all the deep, unceasing, surging note of the big dynamo. + This last noise was from an engineering point of view a defect, but + Azuma-zi accounted it unto the monster for mightiness and pride. + </p> + <p> + If it were possible we would have the noises of that shed always about the + reader as he reads, we would tell all our story to such an accompaniment. + It was a steady stream of din, from which the ear picked out first one + thread and then another; there was the intermittent snorting, panting, and + seething of the steam engines, the suck and thud of their pistons, the + dull beat on the air as the spokes of the great driving-wheels came round, + a note the leather straps made as they ran tighter and looser, and a + fretful tumult from the dynamos; and over all, sometimes inaudible, as the + ear tired of it, and then creeping back upon the senses again, was this + trombone note of the big machine. The floor never felt steady and quiet + beneath one’s feet, but quivered and jarred. It was a confusing, + unsteady place, and enough to send anyone’s thoughts jerking into + odd zigzags. And for three months, while the big strike of the engineers + was in progress, Holroyd, who was a blackleg, and Azuma-zi, who was a mere + black, were never out of the stir and eddy of it, but slept and fed in the + little wooden shanty between the shed and the gates. + </p> + <p> + Holroyd delivered a theological lecture on the text of his big machine + soon after Azuma-zi came. He had to shout to be heard in the din. “Look + at that,” said Holroyd; “where’s your ‘eathen idol + to match im?” And Azuma-zi looked. For a moment Holroyd was + inaudible, and then Azuma-zi heard: “Kill a hundred men. Twelve per + cent, on the ordinary shares,” said Holroyd, “and that’s + something like a Gord!” + </p> + <p> + Holroyd was proud of his big dynamo, and expatiated upon its size and + power to Azuma-zi until heaven knows what odd currents of thought that and + the incessant whirling and shindy set up within the curly black cranium. + He would explain in the most graphic manner the dozen or so ways in which + a man might be killed by it, and once he gave Azuma-zi a shock as a sample + of its quality. After that, in the breathing-times of his labour—it + was heavy labour, being not only his own, but most of Holroyd’s—Azuma-zi + would sit and watch the big machine. Now and then the brushes would + sparkle and spit blue flashes, at which Holroyd would swear, but all the + rest was as smooth and rhythmic as breathing. The band ran shouting over + the shaft, and ever behind one as one watched was the complacent thud of + the piston. So it lived all day in this big airy shed, with him and + Holroyd to wait upon it; not prisoned up and slaving to drive a ship as + the other engines he knew—mere captive devils of the British Solomon—had + been, but a machine enthroned. Those two smaller dynamos, Azuma-zi by + force of contrast despised; the large one he privately christened the Lord + of the Dynamos. They were fretful and irregular, but the big dynamo was + steady. How great it was! How serene and easy in its working! Greater and + calmer even than the Buddahs he had seen at Rangoon, and yet not + motionless, but living! The great black coils spun, spun, spun, the rings + ran round under the brushes, and the deep note of its coil steadied the + whole. It affected Azuma-zi queerly. + </p> + <p> + Azuma-zi was not fond of labour. He would sit about and watch the Lord of + the Dynamos while Holroyd went away to persuade the yard porter to get + whiskey, although his proper place was not in the dynamo shed but behind + the engines, and, moreover, if Holroyd caught him skulking he got hit for + it with a rod of stout copper wire. He would go and stand close to the + colossus and look up at the great leather band running overhead. There was + a black patch on the band that came round, and it pleased him somehow + among all the clatter to watch this return again and again. Odd thoughts + spun with the whirl of it. Scientific people tell us that savages give + souls to rocks and trees—and a machine is a thousand times more + alive than a rock or a tree. And Azuma-zi was practically a savage still; + the veneer of civilisation lay no deeper than his slop suit, his bruises, + and the coal grime on his face and hands. His father before him had + worshipped a meteoric stone, kindred blood it may be had splashed the + broad wheels of Juggernaut. + </p> + <p> + He took every opportunity Holroyd gave him of touching and handling the + great dynamo that was fascinating him. He polished and cleaned it until + the metal parts were blinding in the sun. He felt a mysterious sense of + service in doing this. He would go up to it and touch its spinning coils + gently. The gods he had worshipped were all far away. The people in London + hid their gods. + </p> + <p> + At last his dim feelings grew more distinct, and took shape in thoughts + and at last in acts. When he came into the roaring shed one morning he + salaamed to the Lord of the Dynamos, and then, when Holroyd was away, he + went and whispered to the thundering machine that he was its servant, and + prayed it to have pity on him and save him from Holroyd. As he did so a + rare gleam of light came in through the open archway of the throbbing + machine-shed, and the Lord of the Dynamos, as he whirled and roared, was + radiant with pale gold. Then Azuma-zi knew that his service was acceptable + to his Lord. After that he did not feel so lonely as he had done, and he + had indeed been very much alone in London. And even when his work time was + over, which was rare, he loitered about the shed. + </p> + <p> + Then, the next time Holroyd maltreated him, Azuma-zi went presently to the + Lord of the Dynamos and whispered, “Thou seest, O my Lord!” + and the angry whirr of the machinery seemed to answer him. Thereafter it + appeared to him that whenever Holroyd came into the shed a different note + came into the sounds of the dynamo. “My Lord bides his time,” + said Azuma-zi to himself. “The iniquity of the fool is not yet ripe.” + And he waited and watched for the day of reckoning. One day there was + evidence of short circuiting, and Holroyd, making an unwary examination—it + was in the afternoon—got a rather severe shock. Azuma-zi from behind + the engine saw him jump off and curse at the peccant coil. + </p> + <p> + “He is warned,” said Azuma-zi to himself. “Surely my + Lord is very patient.” + </p> + <p> + Holroyd had at first initiated his “nigger” into such + elementary conceptions of the dynamo’s working as would enable him + to take temporary charge of the shed in his absence. But when he noticed + the manner in which Azuma-zi hung about the monster he became suspicious. + He dimly perceived his assistant was “up to something,” and + connecting him with the anointing of the coils with oil that had rotted + the varnish in one place, he issued an edict, shouted above the confusion + of the machinery, “Don’t ‘ee go nigh that big dynamo any + more, Pooh-bah, or a’ll take thy skin off!” Besides, if it + pleased Azuma-zi to be near the big machine, it was plain sense and + decency to keep him away from it. + </p> + <p> + Azuma-zi obeyed at the time, but later he was caught bowing before the + Lord of the Dynamos. At which Holroyd twisted his arm and kicked him as he + turned to go away. As Azuma-zi presently stood behind the engine and + glared at the back of the hated Holroyd, the noises of the machinery took + a new rhythm, and sounded like four words in his native tongue. + </p> + <p> + It is hard to say exactly what madness is. I fancy Azuma-zi was mad. The + incessant din and whirl of the dynamo shed may have churned up his little + store of knowledge and big store of superstitious fancy, at last, into + something akin to frenzy. At any rate, when the idea of making Holroyd a + sacrifice to the Dynamo Fetich was thus suggested to him, it filled him + with a strange tumult of exultant emotion. + </p> + <p> + That night the two men and their black shadows were alone in the shed + together. The shed was lit with one big arc light that winked and + flickered purple. The shadows lay black behind the dynamos, the ball + governors of the engines whirled from light to darkness, and their pistons + beat loud and steady. The world outside seen through the open end of the + shed seemed incredibly dim and remote. It seemed absolutely silent, too, + since the riot of the machinery drowned every external sound. Far away was + the black fence of the yard with grey shadowy houses behind, and above was + the deep blue sky and the pale little stars. Azuma-zi suddenly walked + across the centre of the shed above which the leather bands were running, + and went into the shadow by the big dynamo. Holroyd heard a click, and the + spin of the armature changed. + </p> + <p> + “What are you dewin’ with that switch?” he bawled in + surprise. “Han’t I told you—” + </p> + <p> + Then he saw the set expression of Azuma-zi’s eyes as the Asiatic + came out of the shadow towards him. + </p> + <p> + In another moment the two men were grappling fiercely in front of the + great dynamo. + </p> + <p> + “You coffee-headed fool!” gasped Holroyd, with a brown hand at + his throat. “Keep off those contact rings.” In another moment + he was tripped and reeling back upon the Lord of the Dynamos. He + instinctively loosened his grip upon his antagonist to save himself from + the machine. + </p> + <p> + The messenger, sent in furious haste from the station to find out what had + happened in the dynamo shed, met Azuma-zi at the porter’s lodge by + the gate. Azuma-zi tried to explain something, but the messenger could + make nothing of the black’s incoherent English, and hurried on to + the shed. The machines were all noisily at work, and nothing seemed to be + disarranged. There was, however, a queer smell of singed hair. Then he saw + an odd-looking crumpled mass clinging to the front of the big dynamo, and, + approaching, recognised the distorted remains of Holroyd. + </p> + <p> + The man stared and hesitated a moment. Then he saw the face, and shut his + eyes convulsively. He turned on his heel before he opened them, so that he + should not see Holroyd again, and went out of the shed to get advice and + help. + </p> + <p> + When Azuma-zi saw Holroyd die in the grip of the Great Dynamo he had been + a little scared about the consequences of his act. Yet he felt strangely + elated, and knew that the favour of the Lord Dynamo was upon him. His plan + was already settled when he met the man coming from the station, and the + scientific manager who speedily arrived on the scene jumped at the obvious + conclusion of suicide. This expert scarcely noticed Azuma-zi, except to + ask a few questions. Did he see Holroyd kill himself? Azuma-zi explained + he had been out of sight at the engine furnace until he heard a difference + in the noise from the dynamo. It was not a difficult examination, being + untinctured by suspicion. + </p> + <p> + The distorted remains of Holroyd, which the electrician removed from the + machine, were hastily covered by the porter with a coffee-stained + tablecloth. Somebody, by a happy inspiration, fetched a medical man. The + expert was chiefly anxious to get the machine at work again, for seven or + eight trains had stopped midway in the stuffy tunnels of the electric + railway. Azuma-zi, answering or misunderstanding the questions of the + people who had by authority or impudence come into the shed, was presently + sent back to the stoke-hole by the scientific manager. Of course a crowd + collected outside the gates of the yard—a crowd, for no known + reason, always hovers for a day or two near the scene of a sudden death in + London—two or three reporters percolated somehow into the + engine-shed, and one even got to Azuma-zi; but the scientific expert + cleared them out again, being himself an amateur journalist. + </p> + <p> + Presently the body was carried away, and public interest departed with it. + Azuma-zi remained very quietly at his furnace, seeing over and over again + in the coals a figure that wriggled violently and became still. An hour + after the murder, to anyone coming into the shed it would have looked + exactly as if nothing remarkable had ever happened there. Peeping + presently from his engine-room the black saw the Lord Dynamo spin and + whirl beside his little brothers, and the driving wheels were beating + round, and the steam in the pistons went thud, thud, exactly as it had + been earlier in the evening. After all, from the mechanical point of view, + it had been a most insignificant incident—the mere temporary + deflection of a current. But now the slender form and slender shadow of + the scientific manager replaced the sturdy outline of Holroyd travelling + up and down the lane of light upon the vibrating floor under the straps + between the engines and the dynamos. + </p> + <p> + “Have I not served my Lord?” said Azuma-zi inaudibly, from his + shadow, and the note of the great dynamo rang out full and clear. As he + looked at the big whirling mechanism the strange fascination of it that + had been a little in abeyance since Holroyd’s death resumed its + sway. + </p> + <p> + Never had Azuma-zi seen a man killed so swiftly and pitilessly. The big + humming machine had slain its victim without wavering for a second from + its steady beating. It was indeed a mighty god. + </p> + <p> + The unconscious scientific manager stood with his back to him, scribbling + on a piece of paper. His shadow lay at the foot of the monster. + </p> + <p> + “Was the Lord Dynamo still hungry? His servant was ready.” + </p> + <p> + Azuma-zi made a stealthy step forward; then stopped. The scientific + manager suddenly stopped writing, and walked down the shed to the endmost + of the dynamos, and began to examine the brushes. + </p> + <p> + Azuma-zi hesitated, and then slipped across noiselessly into the shadow by + the switch. There he waited. Presently the manager’s footsteps could + be heard returning. He stopped in his old position, unconscious of the + stoker crouching ten feet away from him. Then the big dynamo suddenly + fizzled, and in another moment Azuma-zi had sprung out of the darkness + upon him. + </p> + <p> + First, the scientific manager was gripped round the body and swung towards + the big dynamo, then, kicking with his knee and forcing his antagonist’s + head down with his hands, he loosened the grip on his waist and swung + round away from the machine. Then the black grasped him again, putting a + curly head against his chest, and they swayed and panted as it seemed for + an age or so. Then the scientific manager was impelled to catch a black + ear in his teeth and bite furiously. The black yelled hideously. + </p> + <p> + They rolled over on the floor, and the black, who had apparently slipped + from the vice of the teeth or parted with some ear—the scientific + manager wondered which at the time—tried to throttle him. The + scientific manager was making some ineffectual efforts to claw something + with his hands and to kick, when the welcome sound of quick footsteps + sounded on the floor. The next moment Azuma-zi had left him and darted + towards the big dynamo. There was a splutter amid the roar. + </p> + <p> + The officer of the company who had entered, stood staring as Azuma-zi + caught the naked terminals in his hands, gave one horrible convulsion, and + then hung motionless from the machine, his face violently distorted. + </p> + <p> + “I’m jolly glad you came in when you did,” said the + scientific manager, still sitting on the floor. + </p> + <p> + He looked at the still quivering figure. “It is not a nice death to + die, apparently—but it is quick.” + </p> + <p> + The official was still staring at the body. He was a man of slow + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + The scientific manager got up on his feet rather awkwardly. He ran his + fingers along his collar thoughtfully, and moved his head to and fro + several times. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Holroyd! I see now.” Then almost mechanically he went + towards the switch in the shadow and turned the current into the railway + circuit again. As he did so the singed body loosened its grip upon the + machine and fell forward on its face. The core of the dynamo roared out + loud and clear, and the armature beat the air. + </p> + <p> + So ended prematurely the Worship of the Dynamo Deity, perhaps the most + short-lived of all religions. Yet withal it could at least boast a + Martyrdom and a Human Sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HAMMERPOND PARK BURGLARY + </h2> + <p> + It is a moot point whether burglary is to be considered as a sport, a + trade, or an art. For a trade, the technique is scarcely rigid enough, and + its claims to be considered an art are vitiated by the mercenary element + that qualifies its triumphs. On the whole it seems to be most justly + ranked as sport, a sport for which no rules are at present formulated, and + of which the prizes are distributed in an extremely informal manner. It + was this informality of burglary that led to the regrettable extinction of + two promising beginners at Hammerpond Park. + </p> + <p> + The stakes offered in this affair consisted chiefly of diamonds and other + personal <i>bric-`-brac</i> belonging to the newly married Lady Aveling. + Lady Aveling, as the reader will remember, was the only daughter of Mrs + Montague Pangs, the well-known hostess. Her marriage to Lord Aveling was + extensively advertised in the papers, the quantity and quality of her + wedding presents, and the fact that the honeymoon was to be spent at + Hammerpond. The announcement of these valuable prizes created a + considerable sensation in the small circle in which Mr Teddy Watkins was + the undisputed leader, and it was decided that, accompanied by a duly + qualified assistant, he should visit the village of Hammerpond in his + professional capacity. + </p> + <p> + Being a man of naturally retiring and modest disposition, Mr Watkins + determined to make this visit <i>incog</i>., and after due consideration + of the conditions of his enterprise, he selected the role of a landscape + artist and the unassuming surname of Smith. He preceded his assistant, + who, it was decided, should join him only on the last afternoon of his + stay at Hammerpond. Now the village of Hammerpond is perhaps one of the + prettiest little corners in Sussex; many thatched houses still survive, + the flint-built church with its tall spire nestling under the down is one + of the finest and least restored in the county, and the beech-woods and + bracken jungles through which the road runs to the great house are + singularly rich in what the vulgar artist and photographer call “bits.” + So that Mr Watkins, on his arrival with two virgin canvases, a brand-new + easel, a paint-box, portmanteau, an ingenious little ladder made in + sections (after the pattern of the late lamented master Charles Peace), + crowbar, and wire coils, found himself welcomed with effusion and some + curiosity by half-a-dozen other brethren of the brush. It rendered the + disguise he had chosen unexpectedly plausible, but it inflicted upon him a + considerable amount of aesthetic conversation for which he was very + imperfectly prepared. + </p> + <p> + “Have you exhibited very much?” said Young Porson in the + bar-parlour of the “Coach and Horses,” where Mr Watkins was + skilfully accumulating local information on the night of his arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” said Mr Watkins, “just a snack here and + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Academy?” + </p> + <p> + “In course. <i>And</i> the Crystal Palace.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they hang you well?” said Porson. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t rot,” said Mr Watkins; “I don’t like + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean did they put you in a good place?” + </p> + <p> + “Whadyer mean?” said Mr Watkins suspiciously. “One + ‘ud think you were trying to make out I’d been put away.” + </p> + <p> + Porson had been brought up by aunts, and was a gentlemanly young man even + for an artist; he did not know what being “put away” meant, + but he thought it best to explain that he intended nothing of the sort. As + the question of hanging seemed a sore point with Mr Watkins, he tried to + divert the conversation a little. + </p> + <p> + “Do you do figure-work at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never had a head for figures,” said Mr Watkins, “my + miss—Mrs Smith, I mean, does all that.” + </p> + <p> + “She paints too!” said Porson. “That’s rather + jolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” said Mr Watkins, though he really did not think so, + and, feeling the conversation was drifting a little beyond his grasp, + added, “I came down here to paint Hammerpond House by moonlight.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” said Porson. “That’s rather a novel + idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr Watkins, “I thought it rather a good + notion when it occurred to me. I expect to begin to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You don’t mean to paint in the open, by night?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, though.” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you see your canvas?” + </p> + <p> + “Have a bloomin’ cop’s—” began Mr Watkins, + rising too quickly to the question, and then realising this, bawled to + Miss Durgan for another glass of beer. “I’m goin’ to + have a thing called a dark lantern,” he said to Porson. + </p> + <p> + “But it’s about new moon now,” objected Porson. “There + won’t be any moon.” + </p> + <p> + “There’ll be the house,” said Watkins, “at any + rate. I’m goin’, you see, to paint the house first and the + moon afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Porson, too staggered to continue the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “They doo say,” said old Durgan, the landlord, who had + maintained a respectful silence during the technical conversation, “as + there’s no less than three p’licemen from ‘Azelworth on + dewty every night in the house—‘count of this Lady Aveling + ‘n her jewellery. One’m won fower-and-six last night, off + second footman—tossin’.” + </p> + <p> + Towards sunset next day Mr Watkins, virgin canvas, easel, and a very + considerable case of other appliances in hand, strolled up the pleasant + pathway through the beech-woods to Hammerpond Park, and pitched his + apparatus in a strategic position commanding the house. Here he was + observed by Mr Raphael Sant, who was returning across the park from a + study of the chalk-pits. His curiosity having been fired by Porson’s + account of the new arrival, he turned aside with the idea of discussing + nocturnal art. + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins was apparently unaware of his approach. A friendly conversation + with Lady Hammerpond’s butler had just terminated, and that + individual, surrounded by the three pet dogs which it was his duty to take + for an airing after dinner had been served, was receding in the distance. + Mr Watkins was mixing colour with an air of great industry. Sant, + approaching more nearly, was surprised to see the colour in question was + as harsh and brilliant an emerald green as it is possible to imagine. + Having cultivated an extreme sensibility to colour from his earliest + years, he drew the air in sharply between his teeth at the very first + glimpse of this brew. Mr Watkins turned round. He looked annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth are you going to do with that <i>beastly</i> green?” + said Sant. + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins realised that his zeal to appear busy in the eyes of the butler + had evidently betrayed him into some technical error. He looked at Sant + and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my rudeness,” said Sant; “but really, that green + is altogether too amazing. It came as a shock. What <i>do</i> you mean to + do with it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins was collecting his resources. Nothing could save the situation + but decision. “If you come here interrupting my work,” he + said, “I’m a-goin’ to paint your face with it.” + </p> + <p> + Sant retired, for he was a humourist and a peaceful man. Going down the + hill he met Porson and Wainwright. “Either that man is a genius or + he is a dangerous lunatic,” said he. “Just go up and look at + his green.” And he continued his way, his countenance brightened by + a pleasant anticipation of a cheerful affray round an easel in the + gloaming, and the shedding of much green paint. + </p> + <p> + But to Porson and Wainwright Mr Watkins was less aggressive, and explained + that the green was intended to be the first coating of his picture. It + was, he admitted in response to a remark, an absolutely new method, + invented by himself. But subsequently he became more reticent; he + explained he was not going to tell every passer-by the secret of his own + particular style, and added some scathing remarks upon the meanness of + people “hanging about” to pick up such tricks of the masters + as they could, which immediately relieved him of their company. + </p> + <p> + Twilight deepened, first one then another star appeared. The rooks amid + the tall trees to the left of the house had long since lapsed into + slumbrous silence, the house itself lost all the details of its + architecture and became a dark grey outline, and then the windows of the + salon shone out brilliantly, the conservatory was lighted up, and here and + there a bedroom window burnt yellow. Had anyone approached the easel in + the park it would have been found deserted. One brief uncivil word in + brilliant green sullied the purity of its canvas. Mr Watkins was busy in + the shrubbery with his assistant, who had discreetly joined him from the + carriage-drive. + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins was inclined to be self-congratulatory upon the ingenious + device by which he had carried all his apparatus boldly, and in the sight + of all men, right up to the scene of operations. “That’s the + dressing-room,” he said to his assistant, “and, as soon as the + maid takes the candle away and goes down to supper, we’ll call in. + My! how nice the house do look, to be sure, against the starlight, and + with all its windows and lights! Swopme, Jim, I almost wish I <i>was</i> a + painter-chap. Have you fixed that there wire across the path from the + laundry?” + </p> + <p> + He cautiously approached the house until he stood below the dressing-room + window, and began to put together his folding ladder. He was much too + experienced a practitioner to feel any unusual excitement. Jim was + reconnoitring the smoking-room. Suddenly, close beside Mr Watkins in the + bushes, there was a violent crash and a stifled curse. Someone had tumbled + over the wire which his assistant had just arranged. He heard feet running + on the gravel pathway beyond. Mr Watkins, like all true artists, was a + singularly shy man, and he incontinently dropped his folding ladder and + began running circumspectly through the shrubbery. He was indistinctly + aware of two people hot upon his heels, and he fancied that he + distinguished the outline of his assistant in front of him. In another + moment he had vaulted the low stone wall bounding the shrubbery, and was + in the open park. Two thuds on the turf followed his own leap. + </p> + <p> + It was a close chase in the darkness through the trees. Mr Watkins was a + loosely-built man and in good training, and he gained hand-over-hand upon + the hoarsely panting figure in front. Neither spoke, but, as Mr Watkins + pulled up alongside, a qualm of awful doubt came over him. The other man + turned his head at the same moment and gave an exclamation of surprise. + “It’s not Jim,” thought Mr Watkins, and simultaneously + the stranger flung himself, as it were, at Watkin’s knees, and they + were forthwith grappling on the ground together. “Lend a hand, Bill,” + cried the stranger as the third man came up. And Bill did—two hands + in fact, and some accentuated feet. The fourth man, presumably Jim, had + apparently turned aside and made off in a different direction. At any + rate, he did not join the trio. + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins’ memory of the incidents of the next two minutes is + extremely vague. He has a dim recollection of having his thumb in the + corner of the mouth of the first man, and feeling anxious about its + safety, and for some seconds at least he held the head of the gentleman + answering to the name of Bill, to the ground by the hair. He was also + kicked in a great number of different places, apparently by a vast + multitude of people. Then the gentleman who was not Bill got his knee + below Mr Watkins’ diaphragm, and tried to curl him up upon it. + </p> + <p> + When his sensations became less entangled he was sitting upon the turf, + and eight or ten men—the night was dark, and he was rather too + confused to count—standing round him, apparently waiting for him to + recover. He mournfully assumed that he was captured, and would probably + have made some philosophical reflections on the fickleness of fortune, had + not his internal sensations disinclined him for speech. + </p> + <p> + He noticed very quickly that his wrists were not handcuffed, and then a + flask of brandy was put in his hands. This touched him a little—it + was such unexpected kindness. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a-comin’ round,” said a voice which he + fancied he recognised as belonging to the Hammerpond second footman. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve got ’em, sir, both of ’em,” said the + Hammerpond butler, the man who had handed him the flask. “Thanks to + <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + No one answered this remark. Yet he failed to see how it applied to him. + </p> + <p> + “He’s fair dazed,” said a strange voice; “the + villains half-murdered him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Teddy Watkins decided to remain fair dazed until he had a better grasp + of the situation. He perceived that two of the black figures round him + stood side-by-side with a dejected air, and there was something in the + carriage of their shoulders that suggested to his experienced eye hands + that were bound together. Two! In a flash he rose to his position. He + emptied the little flask and staggered—obsequious hands assisting + him—to his feet. There was a sympathetic murmur. + </p> + <p> + “Shake hands, sir, shake hands,” said one of the figures near + him. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am very greatly indebted to + you. It was the jewels of my wife, Lady Aveling, which attracted these + scoundrels to the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Very glad to make your lordship’s acquaintance,” said + Teddy Watkins. + </p> + <p> + “I presume you saw the rascals making for the shrubbery, and dropped + down on them?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s exactly how it happened,” said Mr Watkins. + </p> + <p> + “You should have waited till they got in at the window,” said + Lord Aveling; “they would get it hotter if they had actually + committed the burglary. And it was lucky for you two of the policemen were + out by the gates, and followed up the three of you. I doubt if you could + have secured the two of them—though it was confoundedly plucky of + you, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I ought to have thought of all that,” said Mr Watkins; + “but one can’t think of everythink.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said Lord Aveling. “I am afraid they + have mauled you a little,” he added. The party was now moving + towards the house. “You walk rather lame. May I offer you my arm?” + </p> + <p> + And instead of entering Hammerpond House by the dressing-room window, Mr + Watkins entered it—slightly intoxicated, and inclined now to + cheerfulness again—on the arm of a real live peer, and by the front + door. “This,” thought Mr Watkins, “is burgling in style!” + The “scoundrels,” seen by the gaslight, proved to be mere + local amateurs unknown to Mr Watkins, and they were taken down into the + pantry and there watched over by the three policemen, two gamekeepers with + loaded guns, the butler, an ostler, and a carman, until the dawn allowed + of their removal to Hazelhurst police-station. Mr Watkins was made much of + in the saloon. They devoted a sofa to him, and would not hear of a return + to the village that night. Lady Aveling was sure he was brilliantly + original, and said her idea of Turner was just such another rough, + half-inebriated, deep-eyed, brave, and clever man. Some one brought up a + remarkable little folding-ladder that had been picked up in the shrubbery, + and showed him how it was put together. They also described how wires had + been found in the shrubbery, evidently placed there to trip-up unwary + pursuers. It was lucky he had escaped these snares. And they showed him + the jewels. + </p> + <p> + Mr Watkins had the sense not to talk too much, and in any conversational + difficulty fell back on his internal pains. At last he was seized with + stiffness in the back, and yawning. Everyone suddenly awoke to the fact + that it was a shame to keep him talking after his affray, so he retired + early to his room, the little red room next to Lord Aveling’s suite. + </p> + <p> + The dawn found a deserted easel bearing a canvas with a green inscription, + in the Hammerpond Park, and it found Hammerpond House in commotion. But if + the dawn found Mr Teddy Watkins and the Aveling diamonds, it did not + communicate the information to the police. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MOTH—GENUS NOVO + </h2> + <p> + Probably you have heard of Hapley—not W.T. Hapley, the son, but the + celebrated Hapley, the Hapley of <i>Periplaneta Hapliia</i>, Hapley the + entomologist. If so you know at least of the great feud between Hapley and + Professor Pawkins. Though certain of its consequences may be new to you. + For those who have not, a word or two of explanation is necessary, which + the idle reader may go over with a glancing eye, if his indolence so + incline him. + </p> + <p> + It is amazing how very widely diffused is the ignorance of such really + important matters as this Hapley-Pawkins feud. Those epoch-making + controversies, again, that have convulsed the Geological Society, are, I + verily believe, almost entirely unknown outside the fellowship of that + body. I have heard men of fair general education even refer to the great + scenes at these meetings as vestry-meeting squabbles. Yet the great Hate + of the English and Scotch geologists has lasted now half a century, and + has “left deep and abundant marks upon the body of the science.” + And this Hapley-Pawkins business, though perhaps a more personal affair, + stirred passions as profound, if not profounder. Your common man has no + conception of the zeal that animates a scientific investigator, the fury + of contradiction you can arouse in him. It is the <i>odium theologicum</i> + in a new form. There are men, for instance, who would gladly burn + Professor Ray Lankester at Smithfield for his treatment of the Mollusca in + the Encyclopaedia. That fantastic extension of the Cephalopods to cover + the Pteropods ... But I wander from Hapley and Pawkins. + </p> + <p> + It began years and years ago, with a revision of the Microlepidoptera + (whatever these may be) by Pawkins, in which he extinguished a new species + created by Hapley. Hapley, who was always quarrelsome, replied by a + stinging impeachment of the entire classification of Pawkins[A]. Pawkins, + in his “Rejoinder[B],” suggested that Hapley’s + microscope was as defective as his powers of observation, and called him + an “irresponsible meddler”—Hapley was not a professor at + that time. Hapley, in his retort[C], spoke of “blundering + collectors,” and described, as if inadvertently, Pawkins’ + revision as a “miracle of ineptitude.” It was war to the + knife. However, it would scarcely interest the reader to detail how these + two great men quarrelled, and how the split between them widened until + from the Microlepidoptera they were at war upon every open question in + entomology. There were memorable occasions. At times the Royal + Entomological Society meetings resembled nothing so much as the Chamber of + Deputies. On the whole, I fancy Pawkins was nearer the truth than Hapley. + But Hapley was skilful with his rhetoric, had a turn for ridicule rare in + a scientific man, was endowed with vast energy, and had a fine sense of + injury in the matter of the extinguished species; while Pawkins was a man + of dull presence, prosy of speech, in shape not unlike a water-barrel, + over-conscientious with testimonials, and suspected of jobbing museum + appointments. So the young men gathered round Hapley and applauded him. It + was a long struggle, vicious from the beginning, and growing at last to + pitiless antagonism. The successive turns of fortune, now an advantage to + one side and now to another—now Hapley tormented by some success of + Pawkins, and now Pawkins outshone by Hapley, belong rather to the history + of entomology than to this story. + </p> + <p> + A [ “Remarks on a Recent + Revision of Microlepidoptera.” <i>Quart. Journ. Entomological Soc</i>. + 1863.] + </p> + <p> + B [ “Rejoinder to certain + Remarks,” &c. <i>Ibid</i>. 1864.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + C [ “Further Remarks,” + &c. <i>Ibid</i>.] + </p> + <p> + But in 1891 Pawkins, whose health had been bad for some time, published + some work upon the “mesoblast” of the Death’s Head Moth. + What the mesoblast of the Death’s Head Moth may be, does not matter + a rap in this story. But the work was far below his usual standard, and + gave Hapley an opening he had coveted for years. He must have worked night + and day to make the most of his advantage. + </p> + <p> + In an elaborate critique he rent Pawkins to tatters—one can fancy + the man’s disordered black hair, and his queer dark eyes flashing as + he went for his antagonist—and Pawkins made a reply, halting, + ineffectual, with painful gaps of silence, and yet malignant. There was no + mistaking his will to wound Hapley, nor his incapacity to do it. But few + of those who heard him—I was absent from that meeting—realised + how ill the man was. + </p> + <p> + Hapley had got his opponent down, and meant to finish him. He followed + with a simply brutal attack upon Pawkins, in the form of a paper upon the + development of moths in general, a paper showing evidence of a most + extraordinary amount of mental labour, and yet couched in a violently + controversial tone. Violent as it was, an editorial note witnesses that it + was modified. It must have covered Pawkins with shame and confusion of + face. It left no loophole; it was murderous in argument, and utterly + contemptuous in tone; an awful thing for the declining years of a man’s + career. + </p> + <p> + The world of entomologists waited breathlessly for the rejoinder from + Pawkins. He would try one, for Pawkins had always been game. But when it + came it surprised them. For the rejoinder of Pawkins was to catch the + influenza, to proceed to pneumonia, and to die. + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps as effectual a reply as he could make under the + circumstances, and largely turned the current of feeling against Hapley. + The very people who had most gleefully cheered on those gladiators became + serious at the consequence. There could be no reasonable doubt the fret of + the defeat had contributed to the death of Pawkins. There was a limit even + to scientific controversy, said serious people. Another crushing attack + was already in the press and appeared on the day before the funeral. I don’t + think Hapley exerted himself to stop it. People remembered how Hapley had + hounded down his rival, and forgot that rival’s defects. Scathing + satire reads ill over fresh mould. The thing provoked comment in the daily + papers. This it was that made me think that you had probably heard of + Hapley and this controversy. But, as I have already remarked, scientific + workers live very much in a world of their own; half the people, I dare + say, who go along Piccadilly to the Academy every year, could not tell you + where the learned societies abide. Many even think that Research is a kind + of happy-family cage in which all kinds of men lie down together in peace. + </p> + <p> + In his private thoughts Hapley could not forgive Pawkins for dying. In the + first place, it was a mean dodge to escape the absolute pulverisation + Hapley had in hand for him, and in the second, it left Hapley’s mind + with a queer gap in it. For twenty years he had worked hard, sometimes far + into the night, and seven days a week, with microscope, scalpel, + collecting-net, and pen, and almost entirely with reference to Pawkins. + The European reputation he had won had come as an incident in that great + antipathy. He had gradually worked up to a climax in this last + controversy. It had killed Pawkins, but it had also thrown Hapley out of + gear, so to speak, and his doctor advised him to give up work for a time, + and rest. So Hapley went down into a quiet village in Kent, and thought + day and night of Pawkins, and good things it was now impossible to say + about him. + </p> + <p> + At last Hapley began to realise in what direction the pre-occupation + tended. He determined to make a fight for it, and started by trying to + read novels. But he could not get his mind off Pawkins, white in the face, + and making his last speech—every sentence a beautiful opening for + Hapley. He turned to fiction—and found it had no grip on him. He + read the “Island Nights’ Entertainments” until his + “sense of causation” was shocked beyond endurance by the + Bottle Imp. Then he went to Kipling, and found he “proved nothing,” + besides being irreverent and vulgar. These scientific people have their + limitations. Then unhappily, he tried Besant’s “Inner House,” + and the opening chapter set his mind upon learned societies and Pawkins at + once. + </p> + <p> + So Hapley turned to chess, and found it a little more soothing. He soon + mastered the moves and the chief gambits and commoner closing positions, + and began to beat the Vicar. But then the cylindrical contours of the + opposite king began to resemble Pawkins standing up and gasping + ineffectually against Check-mate, and Hapley decided to give up chess. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the study of some new branch of science would after all be better + diversion. The best rest is change of occupation. Hapley determined to + plunge at diatoms, and had one of his smaller microscopes and Halibut’s + monograph sent down from London. He thought that perhaps if he could get + up a vigorous quarrel with Halibut, he might be able to begin life afresh + and forget Pawkins. And very soon he was hard at work, in his habitual + strenuous fashion, at these microscopic denizens of the way-side pool. + </p> + <p> + It was on the third day of the diatoms that Hapley became aware of a novel + addition to the local fauna. He was working late at the microscope, and + the only light in the room was the brilliant little lamp with the special + form of green shade. Like all experienced microscopists, he kept both eyes + open. It is the only way to avoid excessive fatigue. One eye was over the + instrument, and bright and distinct before that was the circular field of + the microscope, across which a brown diatom was slowly moving. With the + other eye Hapley saw, as it were, without seeing[A]. He was only dimly + conscious of the brass side of the instrument, the illuminated part of the + table-cloth, a sheet of note-paper, the foot of the lamp, and the darkened + room beyond. + </p> + <p> + A [ The reader unaccustomed to + microscopes may easily understand this by rolling a newspaper in the form + of a tube and looking through it at a book, keeping the other eye open.] + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his attention drifted from one eye to the other. The table-cloth + was of the material called tapestry by shopmen, and rather brightly + coloured. The pattern was in gold, with a small amount of crimson and pale + blue upon a greyish ground. At one point the pattern seemed displaced, and + there was a vibrating movement of the colours at this point. + </p> + <p> + Hapley suddenly moved his head back and looked with both eyes. His mouth + fell open with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + It was a large moth or butterfly; its wings spread in butterfly fashion! + </p> + <p> + It was strange it should be in the room at all, for the windows were + closed. Strange that it should not have attracted his attention when + fluttering to its present position. Strange that it should match the + table-cloth. Stranger far that to him, Hapley, the great entomologist, it + was altogether unknown. There was no delusion. It was crawling slowly + towards the foot of the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Genus novo</i>, by heavens! And in England!” said Hapley, + staring. + </p> + <p> + Then he suddenly thought of Pawkins. Nothing would have maddened Pawkins + more.... And Pawkins was dead! + </p> + <p> + Something about the head and body of the insect became singularly + suggestive of Pawkins, just as the chess king had been. + </p> + <p> + “Confound Pawkins!” said Hapley. “But I must catch this.” + And, looking round him for some means of capturing the moth, he rose + slowly out of his chair. Suddenly the insect rose, struck the edge of the + lampshade—Hapley heard the “ping”—and vanished + into the shadow. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Hapley had whipped off the shade, so that the whole room was + illuminated. The thing had disappeared, but soon his practised eye + detected it upon the wall paper near the door. He went towards it, poising + the lamp-shade for capture. Before he was within striking distance, + however, it had risen and was fluttering round the room. After the fashion + of its kind, it flew with sudden starts and turns, seeming to vanish here + and reappear there. Once Hapley struck, and missed; then again. + </p> + <p> + The third time he hit his microscope. The instrument swayed, struck and + overturned the lamp, and fell noisily upon the floor. The lamp turned over + on the table and, very luckily, went out. Hapley was left in the dark. + With a start he felt the strange moth blunder into his face. + </p> + <p> + It was maddening. He had no lights. If he opened the door of the room the + thing would get away. In the darkness he saw Pawkins quite distinctly + laughing at him. Pawkins had ever an oily laugh. He swore furiously and + stamped his foot on the floor. + </p> + <p> + There was a timid rapping at the door. + </p> + <p> + Then it opened, perhaps a foot, and very slowly. The alarmed face of the + landlady appeared behind a pink candle flame; she wore a night-cap over + her grey hair and had some purple garment over her shoulders. “What + <i>was</i> that fearful smash?” she said. “Has anything—” + The strange moth appeared fluttering about the chink of the door. “Shut + that door!” said Hapley, and suddenly rushed at her. + </p> + <p> + The door slammed hastily. Hapley was left alone in the dark. Then in the + pause he heard his landlady scuttle upstairs, lock her door and drag + something heavy across the room and put against it. + </p> + <p> + It became evident to Hapley that his conduct and appearance had been + strange and alarming. Confound the moth! and Pawkins! However, it was a + pity to lose the moth now. He felt his way into the hall and found the + matches, after sending his hat down upon the floor with a noise like a + drum. With the lighted candle he returned to the sitting-room. No moth was + to be seen. Yet once for a moment it seemed that the thing was fluttering + round his head. Hapley very suddenly decided to give up the moth and go to + bed. But he was excited. All night long his sleep was broken by dreams of + the moth, Pawkins, and his landlady. Twice in the night he turned out and + soused his head in cold water. + </p> + <p> + One thing was very clear to him. His landlady could not possibly + understand about the strange moth, especially as he had failed to catch + it. No one but an entomologist would understand quite how he felt. She was + probably frightened at his behaviour, and yet he failed to see how he + could explain it. He decided to say nothing further about the events of + last night. After breakfast he saw her in her garden, and decided to go + out to talk to her to reassure her. He talked to her about beans and + potatoes, bees, caterpillars, and the price of fruit. She replied in her + usual manner, but she looked at him a little suspiciously, and kept + walking as he walked, so that there was always a bed of flowers, or a row + of beans, or something of the sort, between them. After a while he began + to feel singularly irritated at this, and to conceal his vexation went + indoors and presently went out for a walk. + </p> + <p> + The moth, or butterfly, trailing an odd flavour of Pawkins with it, kept + coming into that walk, though he did his best to keep his mind off it. + Once he saw it quite distinctly, with its wings flattened out, upon the + old stone wall that runs along the west edge of the park, but going up to + it he found it was only two lumps of grey and yellow lichen. “This,” + said Hapley, “is the reverse of mimicry. Instead of a butterfly + looking like a stone, here is a stone looking like a butterfly!” + Once something hovered and fluttered round his head, but by an effort of + will he drove that impression out of his mind again. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Hapley called upon the Vicar, and argued with him upon + theological questions. They sat in the little arbour covered with briar, + and smoked as they wrangled. “Look at that moth!” said Hapley, + suddenly, pointing to the edge of the wooden table. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” said the Vicar. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t see a moth on the edge of the table there?” + said Hapley. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the Vicar. + </p> + <p> + Hapley was thunderstruck. He gasped. The Vicar was staring at him. Clearly + the man saw nothing. “The eye of faith is no better than the eye of + science,” said Hapley, awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see your point,” said the Vicar, thinking it + was part of the argument. + </p> + <p> + That night Hapley found the moth crawling over his counterpane. He sat on + the edge of the bed in his shirt-sleeves and reasoned with himself. Was it + pure hallucination? He knew he was slipping, and he battled for his sanity + with the same silent energy he had formerly displayed against Pawkins. So + persistent is mental habit, that he felt as if it were still a struggle + with Pawkins. He was well versed in psychology. He knew that such visual + illusions do come as a result of mental strain. But the point was, he did + not only <i>see</i> the moth, he had heard it when it touched the edge of + the lampshade, and afterwards when it hit against the wall, and he had + felt it strike his face in the dark. + </p> + <p> + He looked at it. It was not at all dreamlike, but perfectly clear and + solid-looking in the candle-light. He saw the hairy body, and the short + feathery antennae, the jointed legs, even a place where the down was + rubbed from the wing. He suddenly felt angry with himself for being afraid + of a little insect. + </p> + <p> + His landlady had got the servant to sleep with her that night, because she + was afraid to be alone. In addition she had locked the door, and put the + chest of drawers against it. They listened and talked in whispers after + they had gone to bed, but nothing occurred to alarm them. About eleven + they had ventured to put the candle out, and had both dozed off to sleep. + They woke up with a start, and sat up in bed, listening in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Then they heard slippered feet going to and fro in Hapley’s room. A + chair was overturned, and there was a violent dab at the wall. Then a + china mantel ornament smashed upon the fender. Suddenly the door of the + room opened, and they heard him upon the landing. They clung to one + another, listening. He seemed to be dancing upon the staircase. Now he + would go down three or four steps quickly, then up again, then hurry down + into the hall. They heard the umbrella stand go over, and the fanlight + break. Then the bolt shot and the chain rattled. He was opening the door. + </p> + <p> + They hurried to the window. It was a dim grey night; an almost unbroken + sheet of watery cloud was sweeping across the moon, and the hedge and + trees in front of the house were black against the pale roadway. They saw + Hapley, looking like a ghost in his shirt and white trousers, running to + and fro in the road, and beating the air. Now he would stop, now he would + dart very rapidly at something invisible, now he would move upon it with + stealthy strides. At last he went out of sight up the road towards the + down. Then, while they argued who should go down and lock the door, he + returned. He was walking very fast, and he came straight into the house, + closed the door carefully, and went quietly up to his bedroom. Then + everything was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs Colville,” said Hapley, calling down the staircase next + morning. “I hope I did not alarm you last night.” + </p> + <p> + “You may well ask that!” said Mrs Colville. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, I am a sleep-walker, and the last two nights I have + been without my sleeping mixture. There is nothing to be alarmed about, + really. I am sorry I made such an ass of myself. I will go over the down + to Shoreham, and get some stuff to make me sleep soundly. I ought to have + done that yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + But half-way over the down, by the chalk pits, the moth came upon Hapley + again. He went on, trying to keep his mind upon chess problems, but it was + no good. The thing fluttered into his face, and he struck at it with his + hat in self-defence. Then rage, the old rage—the rage he had so + often felt against Pawkins—came upon him again. He went on, leaping + and striking at the eddying insect. Suddenly he trod on nothing, and fell + headlong. + </p> + <p> + There was a gap in his sensations, and Hapley found himself sitting on the + heap of flints in front of the opening of the chalkpits, with a leg + twisted back under him. The strange moth was still fluttering round his + head. He struck at it with his hand, and turning his head saw two men + approaching him. One was the village doctor. It occurred to Hapley that + this was lucky. Then it came into his mind, with extraordinary vividness, + that no one would ever be able to see the strange moth except himself, and + that it behoved him to keep silent about it. + </p> + <p> + Late that night, however, after his broken leg was set, he was feverish + and forgot his self-restraint. He was lying flat on his bed, and he began + to run his eyes round the room to see if the moth was still about. He + tried not to do this, but it was no good. He soon caught sight of the + thing resting close to his hand, by the night-light, on the green + table-cloth. The wings quivered. With a sudden wave of anger he smote at + it with his fist, and the nurse woke up with a shriek. He had missed it. + </p> + <p> + “That moth!” he said; and then, “It was fancy. Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + All the time he could see quite clearly the insect going round the cornice + and darting across the room, and he could also see that the nurse saw + nothing of it and looked at him strangely. He must keep himself in hand. + He knew he was a lost man if he did not keep himself in hand. But as the + night waned the fever grew upon him, and the very dread he had of seeing + the moth made him see it. About five, just as the dawn was grey, he tried + to get out of bed and catch it, though his leg was afire with pain. The + nurse had to struggle with him. + </p> + <p> + On account of this, they tied him down to the bed. At this the moth grew + bolder, and once he felt it settle in his hair. Then, because he struck + out violently with his arms, they tied these also. At this the moth came + and crawled over his face, and Hapley wept, swore, screamed, prayed for + them to take it off him, unavailingly. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was a blockhead, a half-qualified general practitioner, and + quite ignorant of mental science. He simply said there was no moth. Had he + possessed the wit, he might still, perhaps, have saved Hapley from his + fate by entering into his delusion and covering his face with gauze, as he + prayed might be done. But, as I say, the doctor was a blockhead, and until + the leg was healed Hapley was kept tied to his bed, and with the imaginary + moth crawling over him. It never left him while he was awake and it grew + to a monster in his dreams. While he was awake he longed for sleep, and + from sleep he awoke screaming. + </p> + <p> + So now Hapley is spending the remainder of his days in a padded room, + worried by a moth that no one else can see. The asylum doctor calls it + hallucination; but Hapley, when he is in his easier mood, and can talk, + says it is the ghost of Pawkins, and consequently a unique specimen and + well worth the trouble of catching. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TREASURE IN THE FOREST + </h2> + <p> + The canoe was now approaching the land. The bay opened out, and a gap in + the white surf of the reef marked where the little river ran out to the + sea; the thicker and deeper green of the virgin forest showed its course + down the distant hill slope. The forest here came close to the beach. Far + beyond, dim and almost cloudlike in texture, rose the mountains, like + suddenly frozen waves. The sea was still save for an almost imperceptible + swell. The sky blazed. + </p> + <p> + The man with the carved paddle stopped. “It should be somewhere + here,” he said. He shipped the paddle and held his arms out straight + before him. + </p> + <p> + The other man had been in the fore part of the canoe, closely scrutinising + the land. He had a sheet of yellow paper on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Come and look at this, Evans,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Both men spoke in low tones, and their lips were hard and dry. + </p> + <p> + The man called Evans came swaying along the canoe until he could look over + his companion’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The paper had the appearance of a rough map. By much folding it was + creased and worn to the pitch of separation, and the second man held the + discoloured fragments together where they had parted. On it one could + dimly make out, in almost obliterated pencil, the outline of the bay. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Evans, “is the reef and here is the gap.” + He ran his thumb-nail over the chart. + </p> + <p> + “This curved and twisting line is the river—I could do with a + drink now!—and this star is the place.” + </p> + <p> + “You see this dotted line,” said the man with the map; “it + is a straight line, and runs from the opening of the reef to a clump of + palm-trees. The star comes just where it cuts the river. We must mark the + place as we go into the lagoon.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s queer,” said Evans, after a pause, “what + these little marks down here are for. It looks like the plan of a house or + something; but what all these little dashes, pointing this way and that, + may mean I can’t get a notion. And what’s the writing?” + </p> + <p> + “Chinese,” said the man with the map. + </p> + <p> + “Of course! <i>He</i> was a Chinee,” said Evans. + </p> + <p> + “They all were,” said the man with the map. + </p> + <p> + They both sat for some minutes staring at the land, while the canoe + drifted slowly. Then Evans looked towards the paddle. + </p> + <p> + “Your turn with the paddle now, Hooker,” said he. + </p> + <p> + And his companion quietly folded up his map, put it in his pocket, passed + Evans carefully, and began to paddle. His movements were languid, like + those of a man whose strength was nearly exhausted. Evans sat with his + eyes half closed, watching the frothy breakwater of the coral creep nearer + and nearer. The sky was like a furnace now, for the sun was near the + zenith. Though they were so near the Treasure he did not feel the + exaltation he had anticipated. The intense excitement of the struggle for + the plan, and the long night voyage from the mainland in the unprovisioned + canoe had, to use his own expression, “taken it out of him.” + He tried to arouse himself by directing his mind to the ingots the + Chinamen had spoken of, but it would not rest there; it came back headlong + to the thought of sweet water rippling in the river, and to the almost + unendurable dryness of his lips and throat. The rhythmic wash of the sea + upon the reef was becoming audible now, and it had a pleasant sound in his + ears; the water washed along the side of the canoe, and the paddle dripped + between each stroke. Presently he began to doze. + </p> + <p> + He was still dimly conscious of the island, but a queer dream texture + interwove with his sensations. Once again it was the night when he and + Hooker had hit upon the Chinamen’s secret; he saw the moonlit trees, + the little fire burning, and the black figures of the three Chinamen—silvered + on one side by moonlight, and on the other glowing from the firelight—and + heard them talking together in pigeon-English—for they came from + different provinces. Hooker had caught the drift of their talk first, and + had motioned to him to listen. Fragments of the conversation were + inaudible and fragments incomprehensible. A Spanish galleon from the + Philippines hopelessly aground, and its treasure buried against the day of + return, lay in the background of the story; a shipwrecked crew thinned by + disease, a quarrel or so, and the needs of discipline, and at last taking + to their boats never to be heard of again. Then Chang-hi, only a year + since, wandering ashore, had happened upon the ingots hidden for two + hundred years, had deserted his junk, and reburied them with infinite + toil, single-handed but very safe. He laid great stress on the safety—it + was a secret of his. Now he wanted help to return and exhume them. + Presently the little map fluttered and the voices sank. A fine story for + two stranded British wastrels to hear! Evans’ dream shifted to the + moment when he had Chang-hi’s pigtail in his hand. The life of a + Chinaman is scarcely sacred like a European’s. The cunning little + face of Chang-hi, first keen and furious like a startled snake, and then + fearful, treacherous and pitiful, became overwhelmingly prominent in the + dream. At the end Chang-hi had grinned, a most incomprehensible and + startling grin. Abruptly things became very unpleasant, as they will do at + times in dreams. Chang-hi gibbered and threatened him. He saw in his dream + heaps and heaps of gold, and Chang-hi intervening and struggling to hold + him back from it. He took Chang-hi by the pigtail—how big the yellow + brute was, and how he struggled and grinned! He kept growing bigger, too. + Then the bright heaps of gold turned to a roaring furnace, and a vast + devil, surprisingly like Chang-hi, but with a huge black tail, began to + feed him with coals. They burnt his mouth horribly. Another devil was + shouting his name: “Evans, Evans, you sleepy fool!”—or + was it Hooker? + </p> + <p> + He woke up. They were in the mouth of the lagoon. + </p> + <p> + “There are the three palm-trees. It must be in a line with that + clump of bushes,” said his companion. “Mark that. If we go to + those bushes and then strike into the bush in a straight line from here, + we shall come to it when we come to the stream.” + </p> + <p> + They could see now where the mouth of the stream opened out. At the sight + of it Evans revived. “Hurry up, man,” he said, “Or by + heaven I shall have to drink sea water!” He gnawed his hand and + stared at the gleam of silver among the rocks and green tangle. + </p> + <p> + Presently he turned almost fiercely upon Hooker. “Give <i>me</i> the + paddle,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So they reached the river mouth. A little way up Hooker took some water in + the hollow of his hand, tasted it, and spat it out. A little further he + tried again. “This will do,” he said, and they began drinking + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Curse this!” said Evans, suddenly. “It’s too + slow.” And, leaning dangerously over the fore part of the canoe, he + began to suck up the water with his lips. + </p> + <p> + Presently they made an end of drinking, and, running the canoe into a + little creek, were about to land among the thick growth that overhung the + water. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to scramble through this to the beach to find our + bushes and get the line to the place,” said Evans. + </p> + <p> + “We had better paddle round,” said Hooker. + </p> + <p> + So they pushed out again into the river and paddled back down it to the + sea, and along the shore to the place where the clump of bushes grew. Here + they landed, pulled the light canoe far up the beach, and then went up + towards the edge of the jungle until they could see the opening of the + reef and the bushes in a straight line. Evans had taken a native implement + out of the canoe. It was L-shaped, and the transverse piece was armed with + polished stone. Hooker carried the paddle. “It is straight now in + this direction,” said he; “we must push through this till we + strike the stream. Then we must prospect.” + </p> + <p> + They pushed through a close tangle of reeds, broad fronds, and young + trees, and at first it was toilsome going, but very speedily the trees + became larger and the ground beneath them opened out. The blaze of the + sunlight was replaced by insensible degrees by cool shadow. The trees + became at last vast pillars that rose up to a canopy of greenery far + overhead. Dim white flowers hung from their stems, and ropy creepers swung + from tree to tree. The shadow deepened. On the ground, blotched fungi and + a red-brown incrustation became frequent. + </p> + <p> + Evans shivered. “It seems almost cold here after the blaze outside.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope we are keeping to the straight,” said Hooker. + </p> + <p> + Presently they saw, far ahead, a gap in the sombre darkness where white + shafts of hot sunlight smote into the forest. There also was brilliant + green undergrowth, and coloured flowers. Then they heard the rush of + water. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the river. We should be close to it now,” said + Hooker. + </p> + <p> + The vegetation was thick by the river bank. Great plants, as yet unnamed, + grew among the roots of the big trees, and spread rosettes of huge green + fans towards the strip of sky. Many flowers and a creeper with shiny + foliage clung to the exposed stems. On the water of the broad, quiet pool + which the treasure seekers now overlooked there floated big oval leaves + and a waxen, pinkish-white flower not unlike a water-lily. Further, as the + river bent away from them, the water suddenly frothed and became noisy in + a rapid. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Evans. + </p> + <p> + “We have swerved a little from the straight,” said Hooker. + “That was to be expected.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked into the dim cool shadows of the silent forest behind + them. “If we beat a little way up and down the stream we should come + to something.” + </p> + <p> + “You said—” began Evans. + </p> + <p> + “<i>He</i> said there was a heap of stones,” said Hooker. + </p> + <p> + The two men looked at each other for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Let us try a little down-stream first,” said Evans. + </p> + <p> + They advanced slowly, looking curiously about them. Suddenly Evans + stopped. “What the devil’s that?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Hooker followed his finger. “Something blue,” he said. It had + come into view as they topped a gentle swell of the ground. Then he began + to distinguish what it was. + </p> + <p> + He advanced suddenly with hasty steps, until the body that belonged to the + limp hand and arm had become visible. His grip tightened on the implement + he carried. The thing was the figure of a Chinaman lying on his face. The + <i>abandon</i> of the pose was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + The two men drew closer together, and stood staring silently at this + ominous dead body. It lay in a clear space among the trees. Near by was a + spade after the Chinese pattern, and further off lay a scattered heap of + stones, close to a freshly dug hole. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody has been here before,” said Hooker, clearing his + throat. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Evans began to swear and rave, and stamp upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + Hooker turned white but said nothing. He advanced towards the prostrate + body. He saw the neck was puffed and purple, and the hands and ankles + swollen. “Pah!” he said, and suddenly turned away and went + towards the excavation. He gave a cry of surprise. He shouted to Evans, + who was following him slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You fool! It’s all right It’s here still.” Then + he turned again and looked at the dead Chinaman, and then again at the + hole. + </p> + <p> + Evans hurried to the hole. Already half exposed by the ill-fated wretch + beside them lay a number of dull yellow bars. He bent down in the hole, + and, clearing off the soil with his bare hands, hastily pulled one of the + heavy masses out. As he did so a little thorn pricked his hand. He pulled + the delicate spike out with his fingers and lifted the ingot. + </p> + <p> + “Only gold or lead could weigh like this,” he said exultantly. + </p> + <p> + Hooker was still looking at the dead Chinaman. He was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “He stole a march on his friends,” he said at last. “He + came here alone, and some poisonous snake has killed him ... I wonder how + he found the place.” + </p> + <p> + Evans stood with the ingot in his hands. What did a dead Chinaman signify? + “We shall have to take this stuff to the mainland piecemeal, and + bury it there for a while. How shall we get it to the canoe?” + </p> + <p> + He took his jacket off and spread it on the ground, and flung two or three + ingots into it. Presently he found that another little thorn had punctured + his skin. + </p> + <p> + “This is as much as we can carry,” said he. Then suddenly, + with a queer rush of irritation, “What are you staring at?” + </p> + <p> + Hooker turned to him. “I can’t stand ... him.” He nodded + towards the corpse. “It’s so like—” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” said Evans. “All Chinamen are alike.” + </p> + <p> + Hooker looked into his face. “I’m going to bury <i>that</i>, + anyhow, before I lend a hand with this stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be a fool, Hooker,” said Evans. “Let that + mass of corruption bide.” + </p> + <p> + Hooker hesitated, and then his eye went carefully over the brown soil + about them. “It scares me somehow,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is,” said Evans, “what to do with these + ingots. Shall we re-bury them over here, or take them across the strait in + the canoe?” + </p> + <p> + Hooker thought. His puzzled gaze wandered among the tall tree-trunks, and + up into the remote sunlit greenery overhead. He shivered again as his eye + rested upon the blue figure of the Chinaman. He stared searchingly among + the grey depths between the trees. + </p> + <p> + “What’s come to you, Hooker?” said Evans. “Have + you lost your wits?” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s get the gold out of this place, anyhow,” said + Hooker. + </p> + <p> + He took the ends of the collar of the coat in his hands, and Evans took + the opposite corners, and they lifted the mass. “Which way?” + said Evans. “To the canoe?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s queer,” said Evans, when they had advanced only a + few steps, “but my arms ache still with that paddling.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse it!” he said. “But they ache! I must rest.” + </p> + <p> + They let the coat down. Evans’ face was white, and little drops of + sweat stood out upon his forehead. “It’s stuffy, somehow, in + this forest.” + </p> + <p> + Then with an abrupt transition to unreasonable anger: “What is the + good of waiting here all the day? Lend a hand, I say! You have done + nothing but moon since we saw the dead Chinaman.” + </p> + <p> + Hooker was looking steadfastly at his companion’s face. He helped + raise the coat bearing the ingots, and they went forward perhaps a hundred + yards in silence. Evans began to breathe heavily. “Can’t you + speak?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with you?” said Hooker. + </p> + <p> + Evans stumbled, and then with a sudden curse flung the coat from him. He + stood for a moment staring at Hooker, and then with a groan clutched at + his own throat. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t come near me,” he said, and went and leant + against a tree. Then in a steadier voice, “I’ll be better in a + minute.” + </p> + <p> + Presently his grip upon the trunk loosened, and he slipped slowly down the + stem of the tree until he was a crumpled heap at its foot. His hands were + clenched convulsively. His face became distorted with pain. Hooker + approached him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” said Evans in a + stifled voice. “Put the gold back on the coat.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I do anything for you?” said Hooker. + </p> + <p> + “Put the gold back on the coat.” + </p> + <p> + As Hooker handled the ingots he felt a little prick on the ball of his + thumb. He looked at his hand and saw a slender thorn, perhaps two inches + in length. + </p> + <p> + Evans gave an inarticulate cry and rolled over. + </p> + <p> + Hooker’s jaw dropped. He stared at the thorn for a moment with + dilated eyes. Then he looked at Evans, who was now crumpled together on + the ground, his back bending and straitening spasmodically. Then he looked + through the pillars of the trees and net-work of creeper stems, to where + in the dim grey shadow the blue-clad body of the Chinaman was still + indistinctly visible. He thought of the little dashes in the corner of the + plan, and in a moment he understood. + </p> + <p> + “God help me!” he said. For the thorns were similar to those + the Dyaks poison and use in their blowing-tubes. He understood now what + Chang-hi’s assurance of the safety of his treasure meant. He + understood that grin now. + </p> + <p> + “Evans!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + But Evans was silent and motionless now, save for a horrible spasmodic + twitching of his limbs. A profound silence brooded over the forest. + </p> + <p> + Then Hooker began to suck furiously at the little pink spot on the ball of + his thumb—sucking for dear life. Presently he felt a strange aching + pain in his arms and shoulders, and his fingers seemed difficult to bend. + Then he knew that sucking was no good. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly he stopped, and sitting down by the pile of ingots, and resting + his chin upon his hands and his elbows upon his knees, stared at the + distorted but still stirring body of his companion. Chang-hi’s grin + came in his mind again. The dull pain spread towards his throat and grew + slowly in intensity. Far above him a faint breeze stirred the greenery, + and the white petals of some unknown flower came floating down through the + gloom. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12750 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |