The Upper World Club
During the next few hours, Captain Gavison and the new-found members of
his crew were all provided with the native garb and lodged in sumptuous
quarters in various parts of the city. They looked peculiar indeed in
their new costumes of light blue and green and yellow, and grumbled not
a little at the change; but they confessed to their relief at having
left the X-111; and not even the prospect of passing their remaining
days in Atlantis sufficed to neutralize their joy.
As nearly as I could determine, they had had an altogether wretched
time during the past few weeks. A spirit of panic had grown among them,
following the failure of Rawson and myself to return from our searching
expedition, and neither by bribe nor by threat could any other member
of the crew be induced to venture into that wilderness where we had
disappeared. And so they had all remained anxiously in the vicinity of
the disabled ship, drinking the distilled water of the Salty River and
snatching what food they could from the land while exhausting their
vessel’s reserve supplies. How long they could have held out it was
impossible to say, but certainly they could not have held out long;
madness had been overtaking them with the delay and the suspense; and,
but for the timely arrival of the natives, bloody disaster might have
ensued.
Yet, while they realized that they had been rescued from possible
destruction, I must not give the impression that they were altogether
contented with their new surroundings, or that their queer native
garments constituted their only source of complaint. Being normal human
beings, they found abundant cause for dissatisfaction. And, indeed,
they were not much to blame, for how could they adapt themselves
immediately to an environment so unfamiliar as that of Atlantis? For
some time they walked about like men in a daze; or, rather, like men
who know they are dreaming and expect shortly to awaken; and they
stared with incredulous eyes at the marble columns of the Sunken World,
its sculpture-lined thoroughfares and statuesque palaces. And what
wonder if they were dazzled and yet a little frightened by this beauty,
which seemed to them so cold and alien a thing? What wonder if the more
superstitious shuddered a little at times, and muttered to themselves
in the presence of what they took to be the supernatural? What wonder
if they missed the familiar things of the earth, the scenes and the
faces they had left behind them, the habits they had discarded and the
remembered life that was dwindling to a shadow?
Fortunately, they were not always free to brood over their misfortunes.
Like those of their shipmates who had preceded them to Archeon,
they were at once supplied with tutors who sought to teach them the
Atlantean tongue. Each of them received at least two hours a day of
personal instruction, and each was required to devote several hours to
various prescribed written exercises. It need hardly be stated that
not all of them took kindly to this enforced application, for most of
them were anything but studious by nature; but the tutors persisted
even though their task was a hard one, and prevailed by means of that
magnetic dominance I had often noted in the Atlanteans; and all of the
crew, from the grizzled McCrae to the callow young Barnfield, were soon
plodding regularly over their lessons in grammar and spelling.
But among a group of nearly forty men, it was but natural that some
should make more willing and able students than others. And so,
while the more backward were still struggling with the elements of
Atlantean, others were striding toward a speaking knowledge. Among
the latter was Captain Gavison, who still had a position to maintain,
and could not let himself be outdone by his men. Whether because of a
natural aptitude or of diligent application, he speedily outdistanced
all his crew, with the exception (I must modestly admit) of one
whose pre-war specialty had been Greek. And partly on account of his
evident supremacy in Atlantean, but more largely owing to the force of
ironclad habit, he was still the acknowledged leader of us all; and
his word still was like the word of a king, his approval still a favor
to be courted and his anger a thing to make one quail, although his
commission from the United States Navy Department, could hardly give
him any authority here in Atlantis.
I do not know whether it was at Captain Gavison’s prompting, or
whether it was at the suggestion of one of the men, that we took the
step which was to band us more closely together. At all events, the
step was inevitable; for all of us felt like kinsmen isolated among
strangers, and our common experiences and common origin constituted an
irresistible bond.
And so it was that we found ourselves convening one afternoon--the
whole thirty-nine of us--in a little colonnaded court in one of the
city parks. All of us were waiting in vociferous expectancy, for it had
been whispered that important events were in store; and so we listened
eagerly when Captain Gavison arrived, and took the center of the stage,
launching at once into an address.
“The proposal has been made,” he announced, beginning without
formality, “that we all join forces by forming a social club. We’re all
in the same boat still, you see, even though we’re out of the X-111.
Most of us feel rather out of place down here in Atlantis; we find the
people strange, the land stranger still, and the customs strangest of
all. And so the best way will be to stick together and try to make
things agreeable for one another ...” And in this vein he continued
for five or ten minutes, pointing out the advantages of union, the
increased power as well as the social gain, the possibility of making
our will felt in Atlantis if we acted in concert.
* * * * *
When he had finished, he asked for opinions--and received them in
abundance....
“If we got together and started a club,” summarized Stangale, whose
views coincided with the majority, “things might begin to look a little
less dead. Seems to me every day down here is Sunday!”
“Sure, and they’ve got lots of Sunday closing laws, too!” Stranahan
contributed, with a wry grimace to ward the massive columns and tinted
statuary.
Very tactfully Captain Gavison reminded Stranahan that the question to
be decided did not concern the Sunday regulations of the Atlanteans.
And without further dalliance he raised his voice and inquired how many
were in favor of a social club.
The proposal having been accepted by unanimous acclaim, the next
question was one of nomenclature. Various names were suggested: “The
Woodrow Wilson Club,” “The Theodore Roosevelt Club,” “The U. S. A.
Club,” “The X-111 Club,” “The Underseas Association”--but finally,
after much pointless debating, we decided that, since we were the sole
representatives of the upper world in Atlantis, the most appropriate
title would be “The Upper World Club.”
Having threshed out this important matter, we now felt it necessary to
elect the officers of “The Upper World Club.”
Obviously, there was only one possible nominee for President. It seemed
almost a matter of form to propose the name of Gavison; and once this
name had been mentioned, the election was settled, for there was no
one daring enough to run in opposition or even to think of suggesting
another candidate.
After being duly installed in office, the Captain made his inaugural
address. It was brief and to the point. He began by thanking us in
conventional terms for the honor and by assuring us that he would try
to run the club as well as if it were a ship under his command. And he
concluded with a declaration of policy: “We’re all of us caught like
rats in a trap, you know, so while we’re here there’s nothing to do but
to try to make the best of our prison. And I think the Upper World Club
should be the means. It should have, I believe, the following objects:
first, to bring us together for social purposes. Secondly, it should
give us the chance to discuss our problems in this strange world, and
should be the means of expressing our combined views to the Atlanteans.
Lastly, it should keep us all together, so that we can act in unison if
the time ever comes to make a dash for liberty.”
“That time will never come!” I surprised myself by exclaiming, after
Gavison had lapsed into silence. And, finding all eyes bent upon me
inquiringly, I felt bound to continue.
“Let us not deceive ourselves by the thought of escape,” I proceeded,
stepping toward the center of the assemblage. “We are buried beneath
thousands of feet of water, and for all practical purposes America is
as far from us as the moon. Even if there were a way back, what good
would that do us when we cannot even leave this city against the will
of the Atlanteans? No, my friends, let us look facts in the face. We
shall remain here till we are gray and toothless, and shall never see
the United States again. And let us try to reconcile ourselves to that
certainty. Let us try to become citizens of Atlantis, and share in the
life about us ...”
And in this vein I continued for some minutes, while my hearers
followed me with transparent interest, and reluctantly nodded agreement.
In general, my words may have been without effect; but they had at
least one result I had not anticipated. For when, a few moments later,
Gavison announced that nominations were in order for Vice-President,
I was surprised to find that my name was the first put forward, and
that no others were put forward at all--so that I was selected without
opposition.
After I had duly thanked my fellow club members for this honor, the
President turned to me, and said, “Harkness, I appoint you a committee
of one to confer with me in drawing up the constitution of the Upper
World Club.” And with that the meeting adjourned.
And thus began my intimacy with Captain Gavison. I do not know how
seriously he took the Upper World Club and its constitution, for at
most times his grim, firm face was inscrutable; but he acted as if he
took it seriously indeed, and he and I spent hours together debating
and planning for the club, almost as though we had had to draw up a
pact not for thirty-nine individuals but for thirty-nine sovereign
states.
How much the club profited from our activities shall always be a
question in my mind; but I am certain that I personally profited a
great deal, and make bold to believe that even Gavison was not without
benefit. Although he had a habit of shutting his thin lips stoically
and glaring upon the world with stern, impassive air, an occasional
look of weariness and even of melancholy in his keen gray eyes told me
that he too was suffering from loneliness; and while he would have been
the last man in the world to make such an admission openly, he made it
tacitly by the amount of time he spent in my company, theoretically
drawing up the constitution of the Upper World Club. He was always far
from loquacious; frequently he was taciturn indeed, and would simply
sit before me with a detached and meditative air, occasionally grunting
some comment or question in response to my remarks. Perhaps the
consciousness of the former gulf between us would not leave him; but
all the while I felt that we were drawing together, were even beginning
to look upon one another with a genuine, although undemonstrative
regard. Certainly, he was emerging by degrees from the thick shell of
his reticence, as I was emerging from mine. We began quite naturally by
a discussion of Atlantis and the Atlanteans; and gradually we ventured
into more personal subjects. There came a day when I went so far as to
tell him of my former life, my training in ancient Greek, my betrothal
to Alma Huntley; and, responsive to my confidence, he offered me one or
two glimpses into his own past, and made himself appear more human than
ever before, by stating that he had a wife and two little daughters in
New York, who no doubt were even now mourning him as lost.
“You know, Harkness, that’s the hardest thing of all to bear,” he
said, while his thin fingers stroked his bristly chin ruminatingly,
and the drawn lines of his gaunt face enhanced his habitual gravity.
“If there were only some way of getting word to them, it wouldn’t be
so bad. But I might be dead for all they know--and would you believe
it, Harkness, sometimes it seems to me as if I’m actually in my tomb.”
And the Captain averted his gaze, and after staring into vacancy for an
indeterminate period, he continued, speaking more rapidly, and almost
with brusqueness, “Now you see why I’m so anxious to get back! For my
own part, it wouldn’t matter so much, but I can’t help thinking it
must be Hell for those waiting up there!” And he concluded by drawing
vivid pictures of blue-eyed Martha, his wife, and of the auburn-haired
six-year-old Ellen, who was waiting for the father that would never
come back.
To all this I listened earnestly; and when Gavison had finished, I
tried to say whatever I could by way of consolation. And in order
to make his woes seem less by comparison, I exaggerated my own; I
discoursed upon the misfortune of being sundered from my old father and
mother (who, as a matter of fact, had previously been sundered from me
by death), and dilated upon my grief at losing Alma Huntley--although,
to tell the truth, she had been almost driven out of my thoughts by the
proximity of one even fairer than she.
It was from the time of our mutual confessions that my real friendship
with Gavison dated. Not unnaturally, we now lost sight of our former
positions as superior officer and subordinate, and began to act
unrestrainedly toward one another as man to man. And while I was on
terms of fellowship with all the crew and intimate with several, my
attachment to Gavison became the closest of all; and often of an
afternoon, when he had completed the day’s studies, or of an evening
before the great golden orbs had been extinguished, we might have been
seen strolling together along the winding colonnades, or seated on
seaweed cushions in a marble hall, discussing the art or the odd ways
of Atlantis, practicing the Atlantean speech, exchanging reminiscences
of the world we had left, or merely absorbed in one of those long
silences that marked our queer acquaintanceship.