_Author of "The Ghost of Guir House."_
F. TENNYSON NEELY,
PUBLISHER,
LONDON, NEW YORK.
Copyrighted, 1899,
in the
United States
and
Great Britain,
by
F. TENNYSON NEELY.
(All Rights Reserved.)
*THE SECRET OF THE EARTH.*
*PROLOGUE.*
When Dirk Waaijen, master of the Voorne, was five days out from the
island of Celebes, a strange thing happened.
For nearly a week the Dutchman had idled along with a cargo of cocoa,
jaggaree, trepang, some Manado coffee, a few bags of nutmegs and other
products of the Archipelago, but without an incident worth logging; when
suddenly, an odd looking cask, with mast and streamer, was seen floating
in the waters ahead, and all hands became alive with excitement. A
couple of burly fellows hauled the barrel upon the deck, with the
expectation of a prize, but were discomfited on finding that it
contained only some cotton cloth, carefully wrapped about a dirty
water-stained document, written in a language which no one could
understand. Even Captain Waaijen himself was unable to read a word of
it, despite his wise look, and the volumes of smoke which he blew from
time to time over the packet. Had he confided in me, his only English
speaking passenger, I might at least have made him comprehend the
importance of the paper, even if unable to render a literal translation;
but the captain was surly, and took the bundle to his room. It is even
possible that he was ignorant of the fact that it was written in the
English language. However this may have been, I was surprised on
reaching Gravenhage, the end of our voyage, to have the paper thrust
into my hands by Waaijen himself, and without a word of explanation.
Believing it to be merely the record of some unfortunate craft foundered
in the South Sea, I laid the packet aside, not even unrolling it for
weeks. When I did so, I was amazed at the contents, and immediately
sought the master of the Voorne; but he had left upon another of those
endless voyages, the length of which even the company was unable to
decide. Assured that no claim will ever be made upon the document, and
overwhelmed with the profundity of its contents, I offer it to the
public, convinced that in the history of our planet, there is nothing
half so astounding as the revelation it contains.
It is to be regretted that the paper cannot be given in its entirety;
the omissions, indicated by asterisks, being the result of damage caused
by salt water to the MS., which has made it undecipherable in those
places; the total thus lost amounting to more than a hundred pages.
The following is an exact rendering of the decipherable parts of the
Attlebridge papers, handed me by the captain of the Voorne.
*I.*
I am to write roughly of the past--more carefully of the present. Of
the past that our identity may be established by reference to certain
events which many will remember, should we be lost. Of the present, for
reasons that will be obvious as I proceed.
On the morning of the 16th of November, 1894, I awoke to find myself the
occupant of a narrow iron bedstead, in a small, poorly furnished room.
The wall paper was mildewed, and the ceiling discolored with smoke. I
was unable to remember where I was, and called aloud:
"Torrence!"
A sleepy answer recalled the situation, and assured me that all was
well. Torrence, who was my twin brother, occupied the mate to my bed,
on the opposite side of the room. Not wishing to disturb him, I lay
quietly watching the approach of dawn through a small window with
Venetian blinds, crank-sided and broken. Later, I was myself aroused by
a curse coming from the other bed. The curse was launched broadly
against the town, and concentrated into a deeper venom as it reached its
objective climax--the room. I smiled and turned over.
"Glad you're awake at last," I ventured, observing that he was looking
around the place with a disgust equal to my own. It was our first
experience of London. We were Americans, and had just landed. Torrence
yawned and declared that he had been awake all night, despite my
assurance that he had been snoring shamefully.
"I wonder when the old lady will want her pay for all this finery," he
said, feeling the quality of the sheets, and looking up at the ceiling
dismally. Indeed we had a right to feel blue, having but little money,
and no friends, in a strange land.
"She wants it as soon as she can get it," I replied, having consulted
our landlady on the subject the previous evening. "In fact, she told me
on our way up the stairs last night, that she generally required her
lodgings to be paid for in advance; but that as we were Americans she
would not insist, although she trusted that we would be able to settle
in a day or two."
"She's too trustful by a jugful. We may not be able to pay her at all!"
yawned Torrence.
"Don't talk that way; you scare me!" I exclaimed.
The truth is, I was never so daring as Torrence, who resembled me only
in looks, and when he alluded to our impoverished condition, and its
possible consequences, I shuddered. Instinctively I glanced at the two
modest trunks against the wall, and reflected that they contained the
bulk of our possessions. I knew there was not enough value in both to
pay our passage back to New York, when the little money we had brought
with us should be spent. Moreover we had burned the bridges, and must
look ahead.
We had come to England for the same reason that Englishmen sometimes go
to America, to ply our crafts, and earn a living, and now that we were
there, I heartily wished we were back. My eyes rested in a kind of
reverie on the ends of the trunks where our names were painted in large,
white letters--Torrence and Gurthrie Attlebridge, respectively. Then I
began to wonder if the Attlebridges would ever distinguish themselves,
and if either of us would ever carve a fortune out of the Babylon we had
adopted as a home. Torrence was an inventor, while I was a writer; and
strangely enough, with proclivities so widely divergent, we had managed
with twin-like harmony to quarrel with our patrons, and our bread and
butter simultaneously and irrevocably. Torrence decided at once to
accept the rather dubious offer of an Englishman, with whom he had
corresponded, to aid him in the development of his air ship, and I--well
I decided to go with Torrence. Accordingly we scraped together what
little cash we could, and bade farewell to Gotham. We took passage in a
cattle boat, and were nearly three weeks upon the water, having reached
London on the afternoon previous to the opening of this record. A
search for cheap lodgings in a moderately respectable part of town, had
landed us in the cheerless apartment described.
Torrence was again stretching himself, preparatory to rising; but this
time his invectives were hurled against the ship that had brought us
over, and the bellowing beasts that had loaded it. Not heeding my
brother's unhappy reminiscences of the Galtic, and being anxious for the
future, I inquired how much money he had left. His answer was not
cheering.
"About twenty pounds in those white paper things; three of those little
gold pieces, and a couple of dollars' worth of silver. That is from my
recollection of last night; but I must get up and count it."
We jumped out of bed at the same instant, and began emptying our
pockets. We were not expert in estimating English money, but concluded
that we had a little over two hundred dollars between us, and that being
in a strange land, with no positive assurance of work, it behooved us to
be up and stirring. We determined to part with nothing we could help
until one or the other of us had found employment. At Torry's
suggestion I had requested our landlady to remit her usual rule of
advance payment, but reflection now made us doubt the wisdom of such a
course.
"She may think we have less than we really have," I remarked.
"How much time did you say she would give us?" asked Torrence in reply.
I saw that he was anxious, and when my brother was anxious, I was
generally more so. In fact, although twins, I had always leaned upon
him, due, I suppose, to a tacit acknowledgment of his superior powers,
and the fellow had powers superior to most men. Answering his question,
I said:
"She didn't mention any particular day, but only remarked that gentlemen
usually paid in advance, but that as we were Americans----"
"I see, as we were not gentlemen, but Americans, she'd wait till she got
it. What do you think under the circumstances we'd better do? Remember
that a couple of hundred dollars for two men to live upon until they
find work in a city like this, isn't exactly wealth. Remember also the
saying about a fool and his money. Now what shall we do about the
landlady?"
"Pay her," I said without hesitation.
"But when?"
"Now! Give her a couple of weeks in advance, and then if we want a
couple more on credit, it will be easier to get it."
We decided that Torrence should take what funds we had, and in his
off-hand, plausible manner, make the payment agreed upon. He had a
wonderful way of impressing people with the idea that money was of no
importance to him. When the settlement was made, I was glad he had done
it, it being evident that Mrs. Twiteham was impressed. I make a note of
these trivial circumstances to show our actual condition, as well as for
future reference should it ever be needed.
This little transaction disposed of, we sauntered out into the street to
look after breakfast, which we found in a neighboring restaurant. The
voyage had sharpened our appetites, and we ate a dollar's worth of food
in an alarmingly short space of time, an extravagance we agreed should
not be repeated. After breakfast, however, we felt that having started
the day so liberally, it would hardly be fair to "clip off the corners
of a square meal," as Torry declared, by slighting its proper ending,
and so we bought a couple of large cigars, and then climbed on top of
one of those great omnibuses with three horses, to seek our fortunes.
It is singular how indifferent men will sometimes be to expenses with
the narrowest margin separating them from starvation, and yet how
parsimonious they often become with untold wealth at their disposal; and
in each instance their better judgment will condemn the course pursued.
My brother's air ship had been for years upon the verge of success. A
fortune had been already spent upon it, and his friends had grown
distrustful. It was always a trifle that was needed to perfect the
mechanism, which was doubtless a triumph of inventive genius. It is not
my purpose to describe the machine, in fact it would be impossible for
me to do so, being neither a mechanic nor a scientist, but I will simply
say that it was built of aluminum; shaped like an exaggerated cartridge
sharpened at both ends and supported in the air by the application of an
extraordinary discovery which neutralized the attraction of gravitation,
and propelled by a horizontal screw beneath, which could be made to
revolve at such enormous speed that the effect of the most violent
hurricane was practically inoperative. As yet, only models had been
made of the machine, the design being too intricate and costly to admit
of a full sized apparatus until every detail had been mastered; but his
last model had flown, and come so near perfection, that an English
gentleman had written to him about it, offering assistance under certain
conditions. This offer might never have been considered, were it not
for the disaffection of his patrons about that time, but as it was, we
left America at once.
The business firm that we were seeking was that of Wetherbee & Hart, No.
3 Kirby Street. As the omnibus carried us through the crowded
thoroughfares, it was plain that Torrence was growing uneasy. Things
had looked promising in the distance, but as the time approached for an
interview, we began to realize the consequences of a failure to elicit
Wetherbee's interest. Should he refuse to aid us we could see nothing
but the poorhouse ahead.
On leaving the 'bus, we had a short distance to walk, and it is safe to
say that we were lost in less than five minutes. The multiplicity of
ways and their labyrinthic character, was confusing to our rectangular
conception of a town, and after a number of fruitless efforts we found
ourselves back at the corner from which we had started. But
perseverance finally conquered, and we stood facing a doorplate which
read: "Wetherbee & Hart, Inventors and Solicitors of Patents." At that
moment I was so oppressed by the thought of the pending interview that I
wished we were lost again.
Walking up a narrow flight of stairs, we stood before a glass door with
a blue paper shade screening the interior. There was no mistake; we
were there at last, for the firm's name was painted in sprawling letters
over the panel. The outward appearance was not indicative of wealth,
and our hearts sank. There was an old-fashioned bell pull, in the
absence of electricity, and I rang. A boy came to the door with many
brass buttons sewed on to a dirty coat, and Torrence inquired if Mr.
Wetherbee was in.
"No, sir, but Mr. Hart is here," answered the boy.
It was a disappointment, no letters having ever passed between my
brother and the gentleman named. We decided to go in, however, and
having given our cards to the boy, passed in to an ante-room.
The place was scant of furniture, and had a poverty-stricken look. Two
large tables were covered with models, while the walls were whitewashed
and hung with mechanical drawings. As there were no chairs, we stood,
and as we had not finished our cigars, continued to smoke. The sound of
a deep, pompous voice proceeded from an inner chamber, presumably the
sanctum of the proprietors. Presently the owner of the voice entered.
He was a man with bushy eyebrows and a square chin.
"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked magnificently.
We were so taken aback that neither of us knew exactly what he could do.
I believe Torry thought of asking him if he could turn a handspring in a
half-bushel measure, a feat he had once seen performed at a circus, but
something in my manner must have stopped him. I waited for Torrence to
answer respectfully, the man evidently being accustomed to inspire not
only respect but awe. My brother, however, took his time, and after a
couple of pulls on his cigar, he said, without moving from the place
where he stood:
"Mr. Hart, I presume!"
"Yes, I am Mr. Hart. Do you wish to see me?"
"Well, rather!" answered Torrence. "I've come all the way from America
to see you: or I should say your partner, Mr. Wetherbee."
Hart coughed, and waved his hand a couple of times at an imaginary cloud
of smoke.
"I must ask you to stop smoking. It is contrary to our rules," he
observed querulously.
"Certainly!" answered Torrence, throwing his cigar stump upon the tiled
floor and stepping on it. There was no receptacle provided for such
things, and the floor looking as dirty as the street, I followed his
example.
Hart called for the buttons, and directed him to pick up the stumps and
throw them in the grate in the next room. The boy did as he was bid,
and passed back into the sanctum.
"It was a matter of business," I began, observing that things looked
squally, and dreading the consequences of an unfavorable impression, at
the very beginning of our interview. "It was in relation to my
brother's air ship that we came, and----"
"And what, pray, do you mean by an air ship?" demanded Hart, with a look
of supercilious superiority that was more exasperating than withering.
"I supposed you must have heard of it," I ventured to observe.
"Heard of an air ship! The idea is preposterous!" he exclaimed.
"And yet," said Torrence, "I have one, which your partner, Mr.
Wetherbee, is anxious to investigate, and perhaps to purchase, as I have
been led to believe."
"That is impossible!" cried Hart, holding his chin higher, and adding to
his general offensiveness. "Wetherbee is a man of sense--and--the thing
is absurd!"
He turned half around on his heel as if about to leave us, but my
brother's quiet, well-possessed manner deterred him.
"I beg your pardon. I have Mr. Wetherbee's letters, which are
sufficient evidence. We need capital to put the scheme into practical
shape, and give it commercial value, and I have come to London to seek
it."
"The old story. The one desideratum with you fellows always. You have
nothing to risk yourselves, and everything to gain. If you can delude
some fool into pushing your crazy schemes you are satisfied. But this,
of all the absurdities, is the most preposterous--the most utter----"
"And has Mr. Wetherbee never spoken to you of my invention?" demanded
Torrence, growing pale.
"Never! nor is he likely to do so. Mr. Wetherbee is a sensible and
practical man."
"Perhaps it may have been his good sense and practicability that led him
to take so much interest in my patent, and I can only express surprise
that he has never mentioned it to you. But I do not wish to intrude,
Mr. Hart, and as you are doubtless a busy man, I am merely going to ask
you to tell me where I can find your partner, my business being with
him."
"Mr. Wetherbee has neither the time nor the inclination to talk about
such balderdash as you propose, and as my time is valuable, I must bid
you good-morning."
"Stop!" cried Torrence, as the man was about to go, "when I came here I
expected to find a gentleman, but now acknowledge my mistake, and yet I
am going to honor you with a bet, if you have the nerve to take it,
which I doubt; but I now and here offer to wager you a thousand pounds
against a hundred that I will carry you to Paris in my air ship within a
month!"
It was an absurd boast considering we had not fifty pounds in the world,
and that the ship was not built, and that we depended on Wetherbee &
Hart for the money to build it. But the speech had its effect, for Hart
relaxed a trifle from his haughty bearing, and said, with a manner
approaching civility:
"No, gentlemen, you will never carry me in your air ship anywhere, nor
will I bet with you; but if you are determined to find Mr. Wetherbee,
his address is The Bungalow, Gravesend. He seldom comes to this office,
and you can reach him by either boat or train."
Torrence took down the address and we bid Hart good-morning; thoroughly
disappointed, but rather pleased that the interview had not terminated
in a fight.
In the street I observed that my brother looked more anxious than I had
yet seen him. What was to become of us if we failed to interest
Wetherbee?
*II.*
The Bungalow was a quaint, old-fashioned place in neither town nor
country. The house stood in a garden, and beyond the garden were some
fields belonging to the premises; and in the distance scattered groups
of buildings like an abortive effort to start a village. There was a
barn in one of the fields, and from the look of his surroundings, we
should have said that Mr. Wetherbee had been a farmer whose domain had
been encroached upon by the vanguard of suburban residences.
We went through an iron gate with the words "The Bungalow" blocked in
brass letters between the bars, and walked down a cemented path bordered
with boxwood, to a green door opening directly into the house. There was
no porch, and the entrance was only a step above the path. We were
shown into a musty parlor, which felt damp and cold, although a small
fire was burning in the grate. The windows were low and opened upon the
garden, but the trees were bare and the flowers dead. There were
pictures on the walls, and jars upon the tables and mantel, where
bunches of withered grasses were displayed as relics of the summer. The
carpet and furniture were old and faded. It did not look like the abode
of wealth, and we saw no ground for hope. Observing the dejected look
on Torry's face, I tried to comfort him with the reflection that some of
the wealthiest of the English live with the least ostentation.
"I know it," he answered looking up. "The man may be worth a million,
but I doubt it."
There was a cough in the ball, and the sound of some one approaching
with a walking stick. In a minute the door was opened, and an old man
bent nearly double, and supporting himself with a cane, entered the
room.
"Two of you! I didn't expect to see but one," he muttered, hobbling
across the carpet without further salute, and then, as he hooked the
handle of his stick into the leg of a chair, and pulled it up to the
fire for himself, added:
"Have seats."
"My brother came with me, as we have always lived together," said
Torrence, by way of explanation, "although I only sent my individual
card, as it is you and I who have corresponded. I hope we find you
well, Mr. Wetherbee, and that this damp weather doesn't disagree with
you."
Wetherbee grunted, and poked the fire.
"Nothing disagrees with me," he said after a minute. "I've been hardened
to this climate for eighty years. It has done its best to kill me, and
failed." Then with a grim smile, he added:
"My figure isn't quite as good as it used to be; but I'm not vain, Mr.
Attlebridge; I'm not vain."
"I suppose you've been a sufferer from rheumatism?" I suggested, by way
of talk.
Evidently he did not hear me, as he was raking cinders from the bottom
of the grate. When he had finished, he said:
"Did you come over from America in your air ship?"
Torrence laughed.
"Not this time, Mr. Wetherbee, but I expect to go back in it," he
answered.
"Great confidence! Great confidence!" exclaimed Wetherbee; "Well, I'm
glad of it; nothing is ever accomplished without it."
The old man leaned his head upon his hands, while his elbows rested on
his knees. It was impossible for him to sit upright. His hair was
white, and his face wrinkled; he looked his age. Certainly he was a
different person from what Torrence had expected.
"I suppose you have brought a model with you," continued Wetherbee; "you
Yankees are so handy with such things." This was evidently intended as
a compliment.
"No," said Torrence, "I did not suppose it was necessary. The
transportation would have been costly, and I knew that if you insisted,
it could be shipped after me. My last effort was deficient in some
minor details, which would have necessitated a thorough overhauling of
the parts, with readjustment. My position now is that of absolute
mastery of the subject, and I thought, with your assistance, that I
might build a full-sized vessel at once. There is no longer any need to
waste money on models, as the next machine will fly, full size."
Mr. Wetherbee lifted his head a little.
"How can you be sure of it?" he asked.
"Because my last model did," answered Torrence.
"And yet you admit there was an error."
"There was a slight error of calculation, which impaired the power I
hoped to evolve; but I know where the mistake lay and can remedy it.
All my plans and formulas are with me. There is no vital principle at
stake. The thing is assured beyond a doubt."
"And what would be the size of the vessel you propose to build?" asked
Wetherbee.
"My idea is to construct a ship for practical aerial navigation, capable
of carrying half a dozen passengers, with their luggage. Such a vessel
would be about sixty feet long, with ten feet beam; while her greatest
depth would be about eleven feet."
"And how long a time would it take to construct such a craft?"
"With everything at our hand, and all necessary funds forthcoming, I
should say it would require about six weeks."
The old man's figure was growing wonderfully erect. His eyes shone with
vivid intensity. I could see that my brother was making an impression,
and hoped for a successful turn in affairs.
"And what did you say would be the probable cost of such a machine?"
inquired Wetherbee, his back still unrelaxed.
"I did not say," answered Torrence; "but from the best of my
knowledge--provided labor and material are no dearer over here than at
home--I should estimate that the thing could be turned out ready for
service, at an expense of--say, twenty thousand dollars."
Wetherbee's eyes were fixed intently upon the fire. He looked even more
interested than our most sanguine expectations could have pictured.
"That is--let me see!" he muttered.
"About four thousand pounds," I answered.
"And you will guarantee the result?"
"Mr. Wetherbee," said Torrence, drawing his chair a little nearer the
invalid's, "I have not the means to make a legal guaranty; but this much
I will say--so absolutely certain am I of success, that I will expend
the few pounds I have with me, in a working model, provided I have your
promise, in the event of my demonstrating satisfactorily the principle,
to place the necessary means at my disposal for building and equipping a
ship of the dimensions named. But let me repeat my assurance that such
a model would be a waste of time and money. I have a large batch of
evidence to prove all that I say."
Here Wetherbee left his chair and hobbled about the room without his
cane. He seemed to have forgotten it. Suddenly he stopped, and
supporting himself by the table, while he trembled visibly, said:
"What if it should fail?"
"Why, in that event I should be the only loser!" answered Torrence.
"But it cannot fail. I have not the slightest fear of it."
The old man's excitement was contagious. Here at last was an outcome
for our difficulties; a balm for every disappointment. I pictured the
airship soaring over land and sea, the wonder of the age, and my brother
eulogized as the genius of the century. I could hear his name upon the
lips of future generations, and I imagined the skies already filled with
glittering fleets from horizon to horizon. Beyond all this I saw untold
wealth, and a new era of prosperity for all men. My flight of
imagination was interrupted by a long drawn sigh from Wetherbee, as he
murmured:
"Four thousand pounds! Ah! if I could only get it!"
The dream of bliss was cut short by a rude awakening. I was dismayed.
What did the man mean?
"If I could only get it!" he repeated with a sigh which seemed to come
from the bottom of his soul. Then he hobbled back to the fire and
resumed his seat. I watched Torrence, from whose face all joy had fled.
He was more solemn than ever before.
Again Wetherbee stared into the coals. He had forgotten his
surroundings. Neither Torrence nor I spoke, in the hope that he was
considering the best manner of raising the money. The silence was
ominous. A clock in a corner was forever ticking out the
words--"_Four--thous--and--pounds_." I listened until it sounded as if
gifted with human intelligence. Each minute was like an hour while
waiting for our host to speak, feeling that our doom hung irrevocably
upon his words. Suddenly we were startled by a sharp voice in the hall:
"_Mr. Wetherbee, your soup is ready!_"
The old man pulled himself together, as if aroused from a dream; picked
up his cane and tottered toward the door. At its portal he stopped, and
turning half around, said:
"Gentlemen, I will consider your proposition, and if I can see my way to
the investment--well, I have your address--and will communicate with
you. Meanwhile there is a barn in one of my fields, which is sound and
roomy. It is at your disposal, and I heartily hope you will be able to
raise the money for your enterprise. The barn you shall have at a
nominal rent, and you will find the swamps about here to be the best
locality anywhere near London for your experiments. I wish you well.
Should you conclude to use the barn, let me know, and I will turn the
key over to you immediately. Meanwhile I wish you luck!"
He went out without another word, leaving us alone with the talkative
clock, and the dead grasses of the previous summer. I glanced at
Torrence, who was pale, but with an indomitable look of courage in his
eyes. I had seen it before.
It was impossible to say from Wetherbee's manner of departure, whether
he intended to return or not. We could scarcely consider the interview
ended, when we had made no movement toward going ourselves, and while
deliberating what was best to do, there was a light step in the hall,
and the door again opened, admitting a middle aged woman who approached
us with a frown. We bowed.
"May I inquire the nature of your errand?" she began, without addressing
either one of us in particular; but Torrence, stepping forward,
answered:
"Our visit is hardly in the way of an errand, madam. We are here upon an
important business engagement with Mr. Wetherbee, who I trust will soon
return to give us an opportunity to continue our conversation."
"I was afraid so!" she replied with a look of regret. She sat down in
the same chair that Wetherbee had occupied, and asked us to resume our
seats. There was something odd in her manner, which betrayed deep
concern in our visit. Putting her hand in her pocket she drew out a
spectacle case, and placed the glasses upon her nose. Then she looked
at us each in turn with growing interest.
"You need not conceal your business from me, gentlemen," she continued,
"Mr. Wetherbee is my father. As you are aware, he is a very old man,
and I am acting in the double capacity of nurse and guardian for him.
He does nothing without my knowledge."
Her manner was thoroughly earnest, and the expression of her face that
of deep concern. Torrence replied after a moment's hesitation as
follows:
"While not for a moment doubting your statement, madam, would it not be
a little more regular to ask Mr. Wetherbee's consent before speaking of
a matter in which he is equally interested with ourselves? If he says
so, I shall be more than willing to explain to you all that we have been
talking about. Meanwhile I can only say that our business was upon a
matter of great importance, which I should hardly feel at liberty to
divulge without the agreement of all parties concerned."
She did not answer for several minutes, during which time the hard look
in her eyes softened; I even thought they were dimmed with tears. For a
moment she averted her face and taking off her glasses polished them
thoroughly, returning them to her pocket. Then she stared into the fire
as if thinking how to proceed, and then without removing her eyes, said:
"I shall not ask your business, gentlemen, but I will tell you something
of mine. Mr. Wetherbee, my father, is, I am pained to confess, a
monomaniac on the subject of inventions. His fortune, which once was
ample, has been squandered in all manner of mechanical foolery, for I
can call it by no other name. An inventor who could once gain his eye
through the medium of print, or his ear, through that of speech, could
wring whatever money out of him he chose. Finding that our means were
becoming scattered, and our credit going, and my good father unable to
see that he was imposed upon, I applied to the courts for his
guardianship, on the ground of mental disability. He has no money
whatever that he can call his own; the little that is left between us
being at my disposal. Should you have plans requiring pecuniary aid, I
must tell you frankly now, that it will be impossible to obtain it
here."
She stopped, and Torrence and I stared at each other aghast.
"But, madam!" I exclaimed, unable to contain myself, "We have come all
the way from America, and at great personal inconvenience and expense,
in response to your father's letters, and should he refuse to aid us now
we are ruined."
"It is impossible--quite impossible, I assure you, my dear sirs, to keep
track of my father's correspondence. He answers everything he finds in
the papers relating to patents. It is unfortunate, deeply unfortunate,
but cannot be helped. The public has repeatedly been warned against him
through the newspapers, and we can do no more."
"It is indeed most unfortunate," said Torrence; "but let me ask you,
madam, if in the event of my being able to demonstrate, to your entire
satisfaction, the inestimable value of my air ship, you could be induced
to aid in its construction?"
"Alas, my dear sir, I have not the means!"
There was a painful silence, in which, to me, the end of all things was
in sight. Mentally I ran over the account of our cash, and roughly
estimated how long it would last. Much as we had abused Mrs. Twitcham's
lodging, I foresaw that we should have to leave it for a worse one.
"Is there, then, nothing that could induce you to take an interest in
our scheme? Remember it is the invention of the century. All the
railways, all the telegraphs in existence will be counted trifling by
comparison when it shall be built and given commercial value. Remember
also, that the insignificant sum required, will be repaid ten times over
within sixty days. Remember, my dear madam, that in refusing to aid us,
you are throwing away the greatest material blessing that man can
possibly acquire. It is the dream of the ages--the culmination of every
hope. Think well before you refuse!"
I was so wrought up that I spoke more earnestly than ever before,
realizing that if we failed with Wetherbee & Hart, we were outcasts.
But all my enthusiasm, and all my brother's eloquence were futile.
"It is not that I will not, it is that I cannot," repeated the lady, who
really did not appear lacking in sympathy. or a due comprehension of the
situation.
"Then have you no friends," I persisted, "who might be induced to take a
share in the invention, I should say discovery, for it is indeed more of
a discovery than otherwise?"
"Most of our friends have already lost money through my father's
infatuation, or weakness, and I dare not mention the subject to any of
them."
We got up to go, thanking the lady for her explanation, and the interest
she had shown. At the door, Torrence stopped.
"I was about to forget," he said; "your father told us of a barn which
he would place at our disposal, should we need it for a workshop. Is
the offer still open?"
The lady smiled, and said she could not refuse so simple a thing,
especially when we had come so far, and had a right to expect so much.
We thanked her, bade her farewell and departed.
We passed again down the cemented path between the boxwood bushes, and
through the iron gate. When out once more upon the open highway,
Torrence turned toward me, and with an air of surprising indifference,
said:
"It looks as though we were checkmated, old man, but we're not. These
people have only stirred up the mettle in me, and I shall build the air
ship despite all of them."
As I have said before, my brother was an extraordinary man; possessed of
a fertile mind, an indomitable will, and withal a secretiveness which
even showed itself occasionally to me. We walked on in silence; the
future looked black and disheartening, I had not the courage to discuss
it. It was dark when we reached the river, and the small Thames boat
wended its way through innumerable lights, reflected across the water in
long, trembling lines. The minutest object claimed my attention, and I
fell to speculating on the mental condition of a fellow-passenger who
was whistling a familiar tune at my elbow. I looked over the taffrail
into the black water beneath, and wondered how it felt to drown, and how
many people had tried it in these waters. I pictured their corpses
still lying at the bottom, and made a rough calculation of how many
years it would take to disintegrate a man's skeleton, after the fishes
had eaten all the flesh off his bones. Then in the dim light I saw
Torrence walking past the man who held the tiller. He did not speak,
and I did not disturb him. Possibly he did not see me, at all events we
walked on opposite sides of the deck, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
At last we met, as if by accident, although I had purposely wandered
over to his side.
"Well, old man! What's the matter?" he cried with a heartiness that
startled me.
"Nothing," I answered; "I was only going to ask why you made that
inquiry about the barn."
"Because I thought it might be useful," he answered.
"And for what, pray?"
"Why, to build the air ship in, to be sure. Did you think I wanted it
for a billiard room?"
"And how can you build the air ship without Wetherbee & Hart?" I
inquired.
"I am not quite prepared to answer your question. But I have overcome
difficulties before, and I shall overcome this one. Don't fret, Gurt!
the air ship will be built."
His manner was confident, and showed such indifference to the gravity of
our situation, that I looked at him in amazement. There was nothing
more to say, and we wandered apart again.
Once more I began an exhaustive study of my surroundings--the river--the
lights--the boat itself, and finally of my fellow-passengers. Thus
occupied I allowed several landings to pass unheeded, when suddenly I
became interested in a low but animated conversation between two men who
were opposite me, the one standing, the other sitting. It was nearly
dark in that part of the deck where we were, but presently the man who
was sitting, shifted his position slightly to make room for the other,
when they both came in range of a dimly burning lantern, and I was
surprised to see that one of the men was my brother. The stranger was a
rough, dirty looking sailor, and the pair, as I say, were deeply
absorbed in conversation, in which they had evidently been engaged for
some time.
"Yes, stranger," said the sailor, "you may believe me or not as you
please, but I have proof enough of what I tell you; and three times I've
been locked up with lunatics for stickin' to the truth, and not lyin'."
"And you say you can prove this?" inquired my brother in a low tone.
"Ay, and _will do it_!"
"It is too marvelous. You astound me! I cannot comprehend it!" said
Torrence in a voice that was scarcely audible, and which I observed was
purposely subdued.
"And indeed you may well be all o' that, an' more too. I was good crazy
for a spell when I first found it out, leastways I was nigh it, but I
don't talk about it no more since they locked me up, but when I heerd
you fellers a gassin' about a air ship, I 'lowed you was the kind, if
ever there was any, as it wouldn't hurt to tell. For my part, it don't
matter--I can't live long no way--and I hate to have _that secret_ die
with me. I'm a stoppin' down the river on the Kangaroo, she's a boat as
is fitted up as a 'orspital for crippled seamen and the like. I'm
tullable comfortable thar, and doubt as I'll ever anchor to any other
craft for a home this side o' Davy Jones'."
"But surely you'll let me see you again," said Torrence, as the man made
a move to leave the boat at the landing we were approaching.
"Course'n I will. I won't forgit ye," tapping his breast as if
referring to a memorandum which I supposed Torrence had given him. "And
I'll keep my word, too, and prove every breath I've done breathed to you
to-night. Ta-ta!"
The man left the boat hurriedly, and the next landing was our own.
*III.*
It was snowing, and the ground was already white when we reached our
humble lodgings. All the way from Gravesend I had been struck with my
brother's capricious manner, at one moment buoyant, the next meditative
and despondent. Upon my inquiring after the singular acquaintance he
had made upon the boat, he simply laughed, and said, "crank," entirely
ignoring the scraps of conversation I had overheard between them. This
being his mood, I decided to let him alone, feeling sure that if there
were anything worth hearing, I should hear it.
We made a hasty inspection of our property, to take care that nothing
was disturbed in our absence, and then, with renewed confidence in the
landlady, walked again into the storm in search of food. We had eaten
nothing since early morning, and were nearly famished. Our restaurant
was not hard to find, and the light and warmth within cheered even my
dismal soul into hopefulness.
Seating ourselves in an alcove by an appetizing table, Torrence pushed
the bill of fare toward me, but I begged him to choose the dinner
himself, and to select the cheapest and bulkiest dishes.
"Rubbish!" he answered; "I'm hungry and am going to have another square
feed. If we are to go to the devil, what difference can it possibly
make whether we get there on Monday or Saturday?"
I could never argue with Torrence; he had his own way in everything, and
yet we never quarreled.
An elaborate meal was placed before us, with a large jug of beer; the
dinner costing more than the breakfast.
"I don't know how it is," said Torrence in the midst of a huge chop,
"but something tells me that I was never born to be starved!"
After dinner we lighted cigars, and continued to sit smoking over our
coffee, having drawn the curtains of our alcove. We had been puffing
away for some minutes when Torrence, putting his hand in his pocket drew
out the money I had given him in the morning, together with his own, and
placing the pile upon the table, said:
"Now listen! We will divide this money into two equal parts, and each
take our part. There is no telling what may become of us, and it is
better to seek our fortunes separately than together. If we travel the
same path, we will meet the some difficulties, but if we divide, there
will be double the chance for luck, and whoever hits it first can help
the other. It will cost no more than to live under the same roof, with
the exception of having paid in advance for our beds, but other
considerations will more than compensate for that loss, which may not be
a loss after all. We may see a very tough time before we get through,
but we will get through in the end, never fear. Now don't starve
yourself, old man, and don't get down in the mouth, but dig--dig--dig.
Push your manuscript--push a hand car--jump into anything you see, but
don't be discouraged, and above all things, write regularly and keep me
posted."
My heart was in my mouth, for I could not bear the thought of leaving
Torrence. He had been the leading spirit in everything, and from my
early childhood I had always believed that what Torrence could not do,
could not be done. I had brought some manuscripts with me for which I
hoped to find a publisher, but now the thought of it was abhorrent. I
could not answer, and so Torrence continued:
"To-morrow morning, after breakfast, I shall leave you. Don't ask what I
am going to do, because I don't know; but I am off in search of luck,
and shall rely largely on my Yankee brains to bring me out on top of the
game. Don't expect me 'till you see me, but I shall either write or
return when there is anything to tell."
"Are you going back to Gravesend?" I asked.
"Probably; but don't hamper me with questions. In the first place it
won't help you to know what I am doing; and in the second place, it
won't help me to have you know. You can picture me as building the air
ship, or running a haberdashery, or anything you please; but remember
that whenever I run my nose up against luck you'll be sure to know it;
and I only ask that you will do the same by me."
I gave him my hand, and then we ordered two portions of brandy and a
bottle of Apollinaris.
While we were disposing of this, and still smoking our cigars, the
_portieres_ of our alcove were pulled suddenly apart, and a rough,
unshaved face thrust in at the aperture, and as quickly withdrawn.
Although it was for only an instant, I recognized the face as that of
the sailor I had seen on the Thames boat. Torrence frowned, but did not
look surprised.
When we got up to go, Torrence insisted on paying the bill out of his
portion, which he did; and then, just as we were about to pass out into
the stormy street, the same rough, dirty looking sailor approached us
from one of the alcoves.
"Another word with you, stranger," said the man, advancing and touching
his hat to Torrence.
"Certainly," as if he had never seen the fellow before, and then turning
to me, Torrence added:
"Would you mind waiting a minute, Gurt, while I speak to this man?" and
without another word, the twain entered one of the alcoves. I amused
myself looking at some fish in an aquarium that stood near the entrance,
and in watching the great flakes of snow falling against the glass panel
of the door. How long I remained thus occupied is difficult to guess,
but it seemed interminable. The sailor had taken the precaution to draw
the curtains after him, so it was impossible to hear anything they said,
and even the sound of their voices was drowned by the clatter of dishes,
the tramping of waiters, and the noise of arriving and departing guests.
At last the interview was ended, and my brother came out with rather a
singular expression, as I thought, and we started for home.
"And what does he want?" I asked as we trudged along the sidewalk.
Torrence laughed; and then, as if thinking of how to reply, said:
"Oh, he's a lunatic! Wants the loan of twenty pounds on a house and lot
he says he owns down in Deptford. Sailors are generally cranky, you
know, and I thought I would talk with him a little just to get his
ideas, and see if it would be worth our while to risk the venture, with
the possibility of becoming the owner of his property. But I'm convinced
the fellow's a fraud."
"If he's a lunatic I think you must be a greater one!" I exclaimed, and
then feeling sure that he was putting me off with nonsense to avoid
questioning, I turned the subject, and commenced talking about the
weather. We did not allude to the sailor again, and I concluded that
Torrence had simply run across some poor fellow who he thought might be
useful to him, although how, I could not imagine.
The next morning we separated, and I waved Torrence a farewell as he
took his seat on an omnibus, with Gladstone bag and umbrella. I stood
watching him until the 'bus had turned a corner, and then directed my
steps toward Paternoster row, with a bundle of MSS. under my arm.
I do not propose to harrow myself with a recital of the bitter
disappointments I underwent in that quarter of the city, nor is it
important for the identification of the Attlebridges as the real
participants in the marvels about to be recounted, that I should do more
than allude to the fact that the firm of Crumb & Crumpet, after much
haggling as to terms, long and tedious discussion regarding merit and
character, finally refused my book, as well as all shorter papers
submitted to them; a fact which those gentlemen will doubtless remember,
should their attention be called to it.
Our lodgings were dreary enough at best, but now that I was alone they
seemed unbearable. Beyond my own gloomy feelings, I was made to
participate in those of my landlady, who constantly annoyed me with
accounts of her financial difficulties; her inability to pay her rent,
and the dread that she would be evicted. Greatly against my better
judgment, she succeeded in coaxing me into the loan of a pound, a thing
I could not afford, but which I did, partly out of sympathy, and partly
to get rid of her importunities.
I now occupied myself in preparing a paper on the psychological
evolution of the ape, which I hoped to be able to place with another
publisher, and which, had it ever been finished, I cannot doubt would
have succeeded; but circumstances intervened before the completion of
the last pages, which compelled me to relinquish my work, and so the
world must suffer. I continued my labor steadily for more than a week,
and then began looking anxiously for my brother's return, and took
several long walks in the direction from which I believed he would be
coming; but I did not meet him, and returned home, each time a little
disheartened. During these evenings I retired early, having no one for
company, and not being able to afford outside amusement. At the end of
ten days I had been so economical that I was quite satisfied with the
standing of my finances, and felt lighter-hearted than at any time since
arriving. Still I had found nothing to do but write, and the future was
uncertain.
Sunday morning was dark and gloomy, and it having been nearly two weeks
since Torrence had left, I began to wonder with increased anxiety what
had become of him. I had a right to expect him by now, but had neither
seen nor heard a word from him since his departure. Could anything have
happened? I did not believe it, and knowing how averse he was to letter
writing, set it down to the fact that he was busy; and I sincerely hoped
profitably so. Still I passed the day in gloomy forebodings, and
resolved to go to Gravesend the following morning. That night, however,
as I was going to my room, the servant handed me a letter, and I did not
realize until I had read it, how anxious I was becoming. The letter ran
as follows:
"20 NARROW LANE, GRAVESEND.
Sunday Morning.
"DEAR GURT: Sorry, but can't get over to-day as I expected. Will try
and come before next Lord's day. How's the book? Keep your mouth
straight, and don't get discouraged,