I. What Happened in the Mountains
II. I Reach Morganton
III. The Great Eyrie
IV. A Meeting of the Automobile Club
V. Along the Shores of New England
VI. The First Letter
VII. A Third Machine
VIII. At Any Cost
IX. The Second Letter
X. Outside the Law
XI. The Campaign
XII. Black Rock Creek
XIII. On Board the Terror
XIV. Niagara
XV. The Eagle’s Nest
XVI. Robur, the Conqueror
XVII. In the Name of the Law
XVIII. The Old Housekeeper’s Last Comment
I.
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE MOUNTAINS
If I speak of myself in this story, it is because I have been deeply
involved in its startling events, events doubtless among the most
extraordinary which this twentieth century will witness. Sometimes I
even ask myself if all this has really happened, if its pictures dwell
in truth in my memory, and not merely in my imagination. In my position
as head inspector in the federal police department at Washington, urged
on moreover by the desire, which has always been very strong in me, to
investigate and understand everything which is mysterious, I naturally
became much interested in these remarkable occurrences. And as I have
been employed by the government in various important affairs and secret
missions since I was a mere lad, it also happened very naturally that
the head of my department placed in my charge this astonishing
investigation, wherein I found myself wrestling with so many
impenetrable mysteries.
In the remarkable passages of the recital, it is important that you
should believe my word. For some of the facts I can bring no other
testimony than my own. If you do not wish to believe me, so be it. I
can scarce believe it all myself.
The strange occurrences began in the western part of our great American
State of North Carolina. There, deep amid the Blueridge Mountains rises
the crest called the Great Eyrie. Its huge rounded form is distinctly
seen from the little town of Morganton on the Catawba River, and still
more clearly as one approaches the mountains by way of the village of
Pleasant Garden.
Why the name of Great Eyrie was originally given this mountain by the
people of the surrounding region, I am not quite sure. It rises rocky
and grim and inaccessible, and under certain atmospheric conditions has
a peculiarly blue and distant effect. But the idea one would naturally
get from the name is of a refuge for birds of prey, eagles, condors,
vultures; the home of vast numbers of the feathered tribes, wheeling
and screaming above peaks beyond the reach of man. Now, the Great Eyrie
did not seem particularly attractive to birds; on the contrary, the
people of the neighborhood began to remark that on some days when birds
approached its summit they mounted still further, circled high above
the crest, and then flew swiftly away, troubling the air with harsh
cries.
Why then the name Great Eyrie? Perhaps the mount might better have been
called a crater, for in the center of those steep and rounded walls
there might well be a huge deep basin. Perhaps there might even lie
within their circuit a mountain lake, such as exists in other parts of
the Appalachian mountain system, a lagoon fed by the rain and the
winter snows.
In brief was not this the site of an ancient volcano, one which had
slept through ages, but whose inner fires might yet reawake? Might not
the Great Eyrie reproduce in its neighborhood the violence of Mount
Krakatoa or the terrible disaster of Mont Pelee? If there were indeed a
central lake, was there not danger that its waters, penetrating the
strata beneath, would be turned to steam by the volcanic fires and tear
their way forth in a tremendous explosion, deluging the fair plains of
Carolina with an eruption such as that of 1902 in Martinique?
Indeed, with regard to this last possibility there had been certain
symptoms recently observed which might well be due to volcanic action.
Smoke had floated above the mountain and once the country folk passing
near had heard subterranean noises, unexplainable rumblings. A glow in
the sky had crowned the height at night.
When the wind blew the smoky cloud eastward toward Pleasant Garden, a
few cinders and ashes drifted down from it. And finally one stormy
night pale flames, reflected from the clouds above the summit, cast
upon the district below a sinister, warning light.
In presence of these strange phenomena, it is not astonishing that the
people of the surrounding district became seriously disquieted. And to
the disquiet was joined an imperious need of knowing the true condition
of the mountain. The Carolina newspapers had flaring headlines, “The
Mystery of Great Eyrie!” They asked if it was not dangerous to dwell in
such a region. Their articles aroused curiosity and fear—curiosity
among those who being in no danger themselves were interested in the
disturbance merely as a strange phenomenon of nature, fear in those who
were likely to be the victims if a catastrophe actually occurred. Those
more immediately threatened were the citizens of Morganton, and even
more the good folk of Pleasant Garden and the hamlets and farms yet
closer to the mountain.
Assuredly it was regrettable that mountain climbers had not previously
attempted to ascend to the summit of the Great Eyrie. The cliffs of
rock which surrounded it had never been scaled. Perhaps they might
offer no path by which even the most daring climber could penetrate to
the interior. Yet, if a volcanic eruption menaced all the western
region of the Carolinas, then a complete examination of the mountain
was become absolutely necessary.
Now before the actual ascent of the crater, with its many serious
difficulties, was attempted, there was one way which offered an
opportunity of reconnoitering the interior, without clambering up the
precipices. In the first days of September of that memorable year, a
well-known aeronaut named Wilker came to Morganton with his balloon. By
waiting for a breeze from the east, he could easily rise in his balloon
and drift over the Great Eyrie. There from a safe height above he could
search with a powerful glass into its deeps. Thus he would know if the
mouth of a volcano really opened amid the mighty rocks. This was the
principal question. If this were settled, it would be known if the
surrounding country must fear an eruption at some period more or less
distant.
The ascension was begun according to the programme suggested. The wind
was fair and steady; the sky clear; the morning clouds were
disappearing under the vigorous rays of the sun. If the interior of the
Great Eyrie was not filled with smoke, the aeronaut would be able to
search with his glass its entire extent. If the vapors were rising, he,
no doubt, could detect their source.
The balloon rose at once to a height of fifteen hundred feet, and there
rested almost motionless for a quarter of an hour. Evidently the east
wind, which was brisk upon the Surface of the earth, did not make
itself felt at that height. Then, unlucky chance, the balloon was
caught in an adverse current, and began to drift toward the east. Its
distance from the mountain chain rapidly increased. Despite all the
efforts of the aeronaut, the citizens of Morganton saw the balloon
disappear on the wrong horizon. Later, they learned that it had landed
in the neighborhood of Raleigh, the capital of North Carolina.
This attempt having failed, it was agreed that it should be tried again
under better conditions. Indeed, fresh rumblings were heard from the
mountain, accompanied by heavy clouds and wavering glimmerings of light
at night. Folk began to realize that the Great Eyrie was a serious and
perhaps imminent source of danger. Yes, the entire country lay under
the threat of some seismic or volcanic disaster.
During the first days of April of that year, these more or less vague
apprehensions turned to actual panic. The newspapers gave prompt echo
to the public terror. The entire district between the mountains and
Morganton was sure that an eruption was at hand.
The night of the fourth of April, the good folk of Pleasant Garden were
awakened by a sudden uproar. They thought that the mountains were
falling upon them. They rushed from their houses, ready for instant
flight, fearing to see open before them some immense abyss, engulfing
the farms and villages for miles around.
The night was very dark. A weight of heavy clouds pressed down upon the
plain. Even had it been day the crest of the mountains would have been
invisible.
In the midst of this impenetrable obscurity, there was no response to
the cries which arose from every side. Frightened groups of men, women,
and children groped their way along the black roads in wild confusion.
From every quarter came the screaming voices: “It is an earthquake!”
“It is an eruption!” “Whence comes it?” “From the Great Eyrie!”
Into Morganton sped the news that stones, lava, ashes, were raining
down upon the country.
Shrewd citizens of the town, however, observed that if there were an
eruption the noise would have continued and increased, the flames would
have appeared above the crater; or at least their lurid reflections
would have penetrated the clouds. Now, even these reflections were no
longer seen. If there had been an earthquake, the terrified people saw
that at least their houses had not crumbled beneath the shock. It was
possible that the uproar had been caused by an avalanche, the fall of
some mighty rock from the summit of the mountains.
An hour passed without other incident. A wind from the west sweeping
over the long chain of the Blueridge, set the pines and hemlocks
wailing on the higher slopes. There seemed no new cause for panic; and
folk began to return to their houses. All, however, awaited impatiently
the return of day.
Then suddenly, toward three o’clock in the morning, another alarm!
Flames leaped up above the rocky wall of the Great Eyrie. Reflected
from the clouds, they illuminated the atmosphere for a great distance.
A crackling, as if of many burning trees, was heard.
Had a fire spontaneously broken out? And to what cause was it due?
Lightning could not have started the conflagration; for no thunder had
been heard. True, there was plenty of material for fire; at this height
the chain of the Blueridge is well wooded. But these flames were too
sudden for any ordinary cause.
“An eruption! An eruption!”
The cry resounded from all sides. An eruption! The Great Eyrie was then
indeed the crater of a volcano buried in the bowels of the mountains.
And after so many years, so many ages even, had it reawakened? Added to
the flames, was a rain of stones and ashes about to follow? Were the
lavas going to pour down torrents of molten fire, destroying everything
in their passage, annihilating the towns, the villages, the farms, all
this beautiful world of meadows, fields and forests, even as far as
Pleasant Garden and Morganton?
This time the panic was overwhelming; nothing could stop it. Women
carrying their infants, crazed with terror, rushed along the eastward
roads. Men, deserting their homes, made hurried bundles of their most
precious belongings and set free their livestock, cows, sheep, pigs,
which fled in all directions. What disorder resulted from this
agglomeration, human and animal, under darkest night, amid forests,
threatened by the fires of the volcano, along the border of marshes
whose waters might be upheaved and overflow! With the earth itself
threatening to disappear from under the feet of the fugitives! Would
they be in time to save themselves, if a cascade of glowing lava came
rolling down the slope of the mountain across their route?
Nevertheless, some of the chief and shrewder farm owners were not swept
away in this mad flight, which they did their best to restrain.
Venturing within a mile of the mountain, they saw that the glare of the
flames was decreasing. In truth it hardly seemed that the region was
immediately menaced by any further upheaval. No stones were being
hurled into space; no torrent of lava was visible upon the slopes; no
rumblings rose from the ground. There was no further manifestation of
any seismic disturbance capable of overwhelming the land.
At length, the flight of the fugitives ceased at a distance where they
seemed secure from all danger. Then a few ventured back toward the
mountain. Some farms were reoccupied before the break of day.
By morning the crests of the Great Eyrie showed scarcely the least
remnant of its cloud of smoke. The fires were certainly at an end; and
if it were impossible to determine their cause, one might at least hope
that they would not break out again.
It appeared possible that the Great Eyrie had not really been the
theater of volcanic phenomena at all. There was no further evidence
that the neighborhood was at the mercy either of eruptions or of
earthquakes.
Yet once more about five o’clock, from beneath the ridge of the
mountain, where the shadows of night still lingered, a strange noise
swept across the air, a sort of whirring, accompanied by the beating of
mighty wings. And had it been a clear day, perhaps the farmers would
have seen the passage of a mighty bird of prey, some monster of the
skies, which having risen from the Great Eyrie sped away toward the
east.
II.
I REACH MORGANTON
The twenty-seventh of April, having left Washington the night before, I
arrived at Raleigh, the capital of the State of North Carolina.
Two days before, the head of the federal police had called me to his
room. He was awaiting me with some impatience. “John Strock,” said he,
“are you still the man who on so many occasions has proven to me both
his devotion and his ability?”
“Mr. Ward,” I answered, with a bow, “I cannot promise success or even
ability, but as to devotion, I assure you, it is yours.”
“I do not doubt it,” responded the chief. “And I will ask you instead
this more exact question: Are you as fond of riddles as ever? As eager
to penetrate into mysteries, as I have known you before?”
“I am, Mr. Ward.”
“Good, Strock; then listen.”
Mr. Ward, a man of about fifty years, of great power and intellect, was
fully master of the important position he filled. He had several times
entrusted to me difficult missions which I had accomplished
successfully, and which had won me his confidence. For several months
past, however, he had found no occasion for my services. Therefore I
awaited with impatience what he had to say. I did not doubt that his
questioning implied a serious and important task for me.
“Doubtless you know,” said he, “what has happened down in the Blueridge
Mountains near Morganton.”
“Surely, Mr. Ward, the phenomena reported from there have been singular
enough to arouse anyone’s curiosity.”
“They are singular, even remarkable, Strock. No doubt about that. But
there is also reason to ask, if these phenomena about the Great Eyrie
are not a source of continued danger to the people there, if they are
not forerunners of some disaster as terrible as it is mysterious.”
“It is to be feared, sir.”
“So we must know, Strock, what is inside of that mountain. If we are
helpless in the face of some great force of nature, people must be
warned in time of the danger which threatens them.”
“It is clearly the duty of the authorities, Mr. Ward,” responded I, “to
learn what is going on within there.”
“True, Strock; but that presents great difficulties. Everyone reports
that it is impossible to scale the precipices of the Great Eyrie and
reach its interior. But has anyone ever attempted it with scientific
appliances and under the best conditions? I doubt it, and believe a
resolute attempt may bring success.”
“Nothing is impossible, Mr. Ward; what we face here is merely a
question of expense.”
“We must not regard expense when we are seeking to reassure an entire
population, or to preserve it from a catastrophe. There is another
suggestion I would make to you. Perhaps this Great Eyrie is not so
inaccessible as is supposed. Perhaps a band of malefactors have
secreted themselves there, gaining access by ways known only to
themselves.”
“What! You suspect that robbers—”
“Perhaps I am wrong, Strock; and these strange sights and sounds have
all had natural causes. Well, that is what we have to settle, and as
quickly as possible.”
“I have one question to ask.”
“Go ahead, Strock.”
“When the Great Eyrie has been visited, when we know the source of
these phenomena, if there really is a crater there and an eruption is
imminent, can we avert it?”
“No, Strock; but we can estimate the extent of the danger. If some
volcano in the Alleghanies threatens North Carolina with a disaster
similar to that of Martinique, buried beneath the outpourings of Mont
Pelee, then these people must leave their homes.”
“I hope, sir, there is no such widespread danger.”
“I think not, Strock; it seems to me highly improbable that an active
volcano exists in the Blueridge mountain chain. Our Appalachian
mountain system is nowhere volcanic in its origin. But all these events
cannot be without basis. In short, Strock, we have decided to make a
strict inquiry into the phenomena of the Great Eyrie, to gather all the
testimony, to question the people of the towns and farms. To do this, I
have made choice of an agent in whom we have full confidence; and this
agent is you, Strock.”
“Good! I am ready, Mr. Ward,” cried I, “and be sure that I shall
neglect nothing to bring you full information.”
“I know it, Strock, and I will add that I regard you as specially
fitted for the work. You will have a splendid opportunity to exercise,
and I hope to satisfy, your favorite passion of curiosity.”
“As you say, sir.”
“You will be free to act according to circumstances. As to expenses, if
there seems reason to organize an ascension party, which will be
costly, you have carte blanche.”
“I will act as seems best, Mr. Ward.”
“Let me caution you to act with all possible discretion. The people in
the vicinity are already over-excited. It will be well to move
secretly. Do not mention the suspicions I have suggested to you. And
above all, avoid arousing any fresh panic.”
“It is understood.”
“You will be accredited to the Mayor of Morganton, who will assist you.
Once more, be prudent, Strock, and acquaint no one with your mission,
unless it is absolutely necessary. You have often given proofs of your
intelligence and address; and this time I feel assured you will
succeed.”