On Unknown Shores
No sooner was the darkness complete than it seemed to be populated
with all manner of weird and terrible things. The disappearance of
the light seemed to be the signal for the approach of a host of evil
monsters. A chorus of hoarse, unearthly voices, loud as the bellowing
of a bull, resounded about us in a deep, continuous bass; and throaty
gruntings and savage snorts and howlings echoed and droned as though
they issued from ten thousand pairs of giant lungs. Dazed with horror,
we stared into the unbroken gloom like doomed men; I had visions of
colossal eyes smoldering from the blackness, and jaws that struck and
tore, and gnashing teeth that rent and shattered.
But it was not a moment before our dumbfounded inaction was over.
Pellmell we flung ourselves toward the submarine, almost failing to
find it in the darkness, and tumbling tumultuously over one another in
our haste to crowd through the narrow door. Several of the men were
shoved accidentally into the water, and Stranahan came in dripping from
an unexpected swim; while the Captain walked with a slight limp, newly
acquired.
At length, however, we were all safely within the ship, and the doors
were barred against the unknown peril. Several of the men, still
trembling with terror, were eager to get under way directly; but this
idea the Captain emphatically vetoed, declaring that the X-111 was no
longer seaworthy. All that we could do now was to try to locate the
danger with our searchlights; and accordingly, we wasted no time before
switching on our powerful lanterns and revolving them in slow circles
that illumined by turns every inch of the boulder-strewn, weedy plain.
All in vain. Although the unearthly chorus could be heard even through
the closed doors and showed no sign of diminishing, our searchlights
revealed nothing that we had not already seen.
For some time we watched and waited--but nothing happened. And at
length, turning to us all with a smile, the Captain advised, “Well,
boys, we’ve all had a pretty hard time of it. Suppose we just forget
about that racket out there and try to take a little rest.”
We were all glad enough to follow the Captain’s suggestion. Several of
the men were commissioned to take turns standing watch; and the rest of
us were not long in seeking much needed sleep. Within a few minutes,
the deep and regular breathing from the nearby bunks informed me that
my companions had temporarily forgotten the day’s adventures.
For my own part, exhausted as I was, I could not so readily find
relief. The events not only of the past few hours, but of many months,
came trooping before my mind in continuous blurred procession; I was
obsessed by my own imaginings, and from a dim half-consciousness, I
would awaken time after time to a vivid re-experiencing of some almost
forgotten episode. And, strangely enough, my reveries were concerned
mainly with a single phase of my life--the phase I was now living. My
youth and early manhood might almost not have existed, for all that I
remembered of them now; but I did sharply recall how, at the outbreak
of war more than a year ago, I had decided abruptly upon the action
that had plunged me into my present plight. Resigning my position
at Northeastern University, where I had been serving as instructor
in classic Greek, I had enlisted in the navy, and had promptly been
sent to an officers’ training school, from which I had emerged as
Ensign. Friends had commended me upon my patriotism, yet it was not
patriotism, but rather the greed for adventure, that had motivated my
decision; and now, as I looked back, it seemed ironic to me that my
previous uneventful days had been so much more pleasant than any of my
adventures. There was, however, one factor which had served to make
those days enjoyable, a factor without which even the most active life
would be barren indeed--and that factor was one which could have no
place in wartime. Frequently, as I tossed and struggled fitfully on
my narrow bunk, there flashed before me out of the darkness the blue
eyes and laughing face of one whom I could scarcely recall without a
pang; and I lived again with Alma Huntley those sparkling days among
the Vermont hills, when she was to me all that life was, and I won
her promise of devotion among the scented pines and to the music of
rippling waters ... That day was long past, yet how actually it came
back to mind! And how acutely memory brought back a later day, when
her cheeks were moist and I held her in a minute-long embrace, and
mutual vows and soft murmurings were exchanged, and then there came
the sharpness of “Farewell!” and she was gone, lost amid a blur of
faces, and I marched sedately on while the world was blotted out in
loneliness and grief ... Oh, why had I left her, plunging thus among
these unknown horrors?... Fervently, as I lay there listening to the
uncanny bellowings from the ghostly world without, I longed to reach
out my arms to her, to hold her warmly, to speak to her, and to hear
her speak, if only one loved word....
But even the most intense yearning may be blotted out by sleep. And
at last, after hours, I lost my memories in unconsciousness--an
intermittent unconsciousness, broken by disturbed dreams and vague
images of death and disaster....
* * * * *
I opened my eyes to find a bright, golden light pouring in through the
unshuttered windows. Surprised, I leapt to my feet, and discovered that
the great mysterious golden orbs were shining as before from far above,
the boulder-strewn plain glimmered as clearly as at first, the massive
columns were still fairy-like in their tints of pale pink and blue,
while the hideous bestial noises had unaccountably ceased.
Hastily I dressed and rejoined my companions. I found them gathered
about in a little circle, earnestly talking; and they welcomed me
gladly into their discussion, the subject of which I at once surmised.
For what but our mysterious plight could now occupy our minds and
tongues? None of us, as yet, had more than the faintest inkling of
where we were or what had befallen us. That we were in some sort of
cavern beneath the sea was the belief of the Captain and several of
the men, but this region seemed so oddly unlike a cavern that the
explanation was not generally accepted; and the more superstitious
were inclined to hold that we had been bewitched into some sort of
supernatural, goblin realm. For my own part, I could hardly understand
how we could be in a submarine cavern without being completely flooded;
and much less could I understand how we could be in any known land
above seas.
Obviously, the only likely source of information was through
exploration. And since it was not possible to conduct any explorations
with the aid of the disabled X-111, the Captain took the only other
available course--which was to order some of the men to set forth into
the Unknown on foot, determine the lay of the land and return as soon
as possible with whatever tidings they might gather.
Stangale and Howlett, being the most experienced veterans, were
selected to make the initial attempt. In a few minutes, they set off
cheerfully together, equipped with firearms and a day’s supply of food
and drink, with instructions to return within twenty-four hours at the
latest.
Twelve or fifteen hours went by while we waited impatiently; the great
golden orbs flashed out as mysteriously as before, and for eight or ten
hours we slept; then, upon awakening, we found the lights still shining
as brightly as ever, and noted that it was time for the return of our
two scouts. We watched in vain for their arrival. Not a moving thing
greeted us from the unchanging, bouldery plain; hours went by; excited
speculation gave way to more excited speculation, and wild rumor to
still wilder rumor; the suspense became tantalizing, and yet there was
nothing to do but wait. Had the men lost their way? or had they met
with some disastrous adventure? or had the savage inhabitants of these
wild realms seized and imprisoned them? To these questions there was
no answer, though many were the conjectures. When the darkness had
fallen upon us once again, and once again we had slept and awakened to
find the golden light restored, we knew that it was time to set out in
search of the missing ones.
This time the Captain called for volunteers to invade the Unknown,
which, as he warned us, might be dangerous beyond all expectations;
and after half the crew had offered themselves for the adventure, his
choice fell upon Ripley and Stranahan.
It was with genuine regret that I watched these two gallant seamen set
forth amid the reeds by the river’s brink, to disappear at length among
the boulders and behind the great stone columns. Somehow, as I lost
sight of them, I had a sense that we might not see them again so soon.
I was sad as though with a forewarning of disaster; and, as I reflected
upon the pitfalls and dangers they might have to face, I experienced
more than one twinge of vicarious fear.
Worst of all, my misgivings seemed to be justified by time. Twelve
hours passed, and the explorers had not returned; twenty-four hours,
and there was still no word from them, though they had been given
explicit orders to be back. With grim, set eyes, the Captain stood
alone by the river bank, gazing sternly into that wilderness which
had already engulfed four of his men; and the rest of the crew stood
chattering fearfully among themselves, declaring that this land was
“haunted,” “spooky,” and “thick with devils.”
It was curious to note how, in these weird, unknown domains, outworn
superstitions were being reborn; how ready the men were to believe in
goblins, dragons, sea serpents, werewolves and all manner of fantastic
monsters. Even the more enlightened of us seemed about to forget all
that civilization had taught us; and, in the failure of all that we had
been accustomed to cling to, we were clutching at a savage, terrorizing
faith in incredible and ghostly things.
By the time that Stranahan and Ripley had been absent forty-eight
hours, the crew was in a state of impatience verging upon madness. The
fluttering of a feather would have sent them scampering like frightened
horses; the buzzing of a bee might have been the signal for spasms
of dread. On one occasion, indeed, the chirping of some cricket-like
insect did put half a dozen of the men into a panic; and on another
occasion three or four of them turned pale merely upon hearing the
swishing and flapping of a small fish in the river.
It was when the excitement was nearing its highest that the Captain
called once more for volunteers to search for the missing men. But
so deep-rooted and paralyzing was the general alarm that only two of
us offered our names--young Phil Rawson and myself. I do not know
what strange wave of courage had suddenly emboldened this timorous
recruit while less callow men held back. For my own part, I must admit
that I volunteered from the mere desire to escape from ennui and the
half-frenzied rabble of my comrades. But, whatever our motives, we were
promptly to be launched into adventures that were not only to test
our hardihood, but to prove interesting beyond anything we could have
imagined.
* * * * *
[Illustration: --and from a narrow focus of flame, two huge burning
green eyes would shoot forth, darting cold malice at us through the
glass port.... Or else a tiny flattened disk, softly phosphorescent
throughout and marked on one surface by two bright beady eyes, would
come floating in our direction like a pale apparition....]
* * * * *