Oliver Lane's sensations were for the moment horrible. He knew now that
the steamy vapour into which they had penetrated must be full of gas
perilous to human life--that the emanations from the volcanic soil were
asphyxiating, and he completely lost his head, and tottered feebly here
and there.
But in a few moments this passed off, for he made a desperate effort to
command himself, knowing full well that if he did not act his case was
hopeless. His only chance was, he knew, to rush out through the mist
into pure air. But which way? He had lost all idea of the direction by
which he had come; he dare not stoop down, and try to trace his
foot-prints, because of the vapour being certainly more dense and
dangerous closer to the surface, and all that was feasible was to make a
rush, chancing whether it was forward into greater danger, to right or
left, hoping only that his instinct would lead him back by the way he
came.
Strong now in his intention, he drew a hot stifling breath, set his
teeth and ran for a few yards; then staggered a few more, growing blind,
and feeling that his senses were fast leaving him. Then his brain
throbbed, a peculiar trembling weakness came over him, and, almost
unconsciously, he tottered along a few steps more, reeled, and fell
heavily upon the ground.
His senses did not quite leave him, for he knew that he was trying to
crawl through what seemed to him to be something like soft liquid opal,
with its wonderfully bright tints before his eyes, bluish, golden,
creamy, fiery, and pale, then there was a darkening around them as if he
were crawling into shadow; and again, directly after, as it appeared, he
could see a bright glow, toward which he involuntarily struggled, for it
was an instinctive effort now to preserve his life. And as he crawled
onward, the glow grew brighter, he could breathe more freely, and the
light gradually assumed the hue of bright sunshine, where he fell
passive beneath the dense foliage of a huge tree.
Everything was very dreamy now for a time. His head throbbed and felt
confused, and a sickly, deathly sensation made his brain reel. By
degrees this passed away, and he lay gazing at the strange opalescent
something through which he felt that he had passed, and by degrees he
realised that he was watching the great curtain of mist made glorious by
the sunshine, and easily understood now why, in his strange
semi-insensibility, this had seemed to be a liquid through which he had
crawled while breathing the strange mephitic air.
"Then I did go in the right direction," was his next thought, as he
still lay feeble and languid, and as if regaining his senses after
taking some powerful opiate.
He felt a kind of satisfaction at this, and luxuriously drew in great
draughts of soft warm air. For it was a delight to breathe freely, and
lie there without making any exertion. The trees were so green and
bright, and the flowers of such delicious tints, especially those he
could see climbing up and up, and spreading their wealth of blossoms in
one spot, till that was one lovely sheet of colour.
"It doesn't matter."
These words pretty well expressed Oliver Lane's thoughts for some time
before he attempted to move. The past, save and except the dim memory
of his having been in some trouble in a mist and losing his way, had no
existence for him, and the young man lay there in a state of the most
intense egotism, utterly prostrate, but supremely content.
Then all at once there was a change.
He felt a sensation of discomfort, and his hand began to stray about
him, and he found that his double-barrelled gun, slung by a strap across
his shoulders, was beneath his back, and the lock was pressing against
his ribs.
He changed his position so as to lay the gun beside him, and the
movement shot an acute pain through his head.
It did more; it sent a pang of mental agony through his brain; and he
scrambled up to his knees, to bend down, pressing his hands to the sides
of his head as if to keep it from splitting apart as he recalled all
now, and stared wildly about him in search of his companions.
The sensation of selfish enjoyment had all passed away, and he was in
full possession of his faculties.
He had found his way back, then, out of the mist, but where were they?
No; he was wrong; he had not found his way back as he fancied at first,
for where they entered the land around was burned up and bare; here
everything was glorious with tropic growth; there were lovely
butterflies, inches across the wing, and metallic in tint; brightly
plumaged birds, too, were darting past his eyes. He must have passed
right through the mist to the farther side and reached the place they
sought.
He involuntarily turned, and there, about a couple of miles away
apparently, and rising far up in the clear blue sky, with a huge
ball-like cloud suspended above the conical top, was the great volcano,
bare, stern, and repellent, without a scrap of verdure to relieve the
eye. It stood up tremendous in height, and in his rapid glance Oliver
Lane could see how all round had been blackened, or charred into a
greyish ash-colour, save in two places, where broad blackish bands
reached from a chasm near the top of the crater, right down the sides,
till they were hidden by the tall trees still standing, and apparently
spreading from the gentle eminence upon which he knelt for about a mile.
Where, then, were his friends, he asked himself, and recovering his feet
now, he had to seize the nearest bough and hold on, for a sudden
giddiness assailed him, and he nearly fell. But this passed off in a
few moments, and he stood looking round to see if they too had passed
through.
But as far as he could see, he was alone in an open jungly spot, teeming
with all that was bright and beautiful in nature, and shut off from his
companions by the curtain of mist they had set out to pierce.
He hailed and hailed again as loudly as he could, and a faint cry
answered him, but a few repetitions made him aware of the fact that it
was only his own voice, echoed back from the mountain-side, and a
strange sense of loneliness and despair attacked him now.
For as he recalled his own adventure, it was evident to him that he had
had a very narrow escape from suffocation, the mist being evidently a
volcanic exhalation, rising from the earth in a long low portion
extending for miles in a curve, perhaps being the extent to which the
mountain had reached in some far-off time; in fact, there might have
been an old crater here only a little raised above the sea.
But he shook off the despondency, and fought back the idea that his
companions might have been overcome by the escaping gases, and forced
himself to believe that if they were not somewhere on his side hidden
from him by the trees, they had safely made their way back to the side
from which they had started.
He knew he had no grounds for all this, as they must necessarily have
been as much confused and overcome as he, but he came to the conclusion
which he wished to be true, and after mounting to the highest bit of
ground in his immediate neighbourhood, he hailed again and again,
listening patiently in the intervals for some reply.
There was a musical piping whistle twice, and once he was aware of a
curious grunting sound from some trees away to his right, and this was
repeated on his hailing again. Then all was silent once more, and he
stood, now looking round, now watching the line of mist from which he
hoped to see his companions emerge.
There were moments when he felt convinced that they had reached the same
side as he, and he set to work hurrying here and there as fast as the
tangled growth of the pathless forest would allow, hailing from time to
time, but all in vain, and at last, dripping with perspiration, panting
and exhausted, he leaned against a tree.
He had something else to combat now besides weariness, a terrible
feeling of depression, for the thought would keep on coming with
constant recurrence that his friends had perished in the mist.
He mastered this thought as the feeling of exhaustion passed away, and
was ready to laugh at the sense of dread caused by his loneliness. For,
as he told himself, it was probably all imagination respecting his
friends, and there was nothing to mind. He was only separated from the
vessel by a comparatively short distance, and sooner or later an effort
would be made to reach him. It might not be possible to pass through
the foul gases, but surely the long line of mist could be circumvented;
and he climbed to the highest point he could then find to try and see
its ends.
There was nothing to fear, for he had his gun, plenty of ammunition, and
a little provision left. The place was wonderfully beautiful, and
offered a tempting number of objects to a naturalist, as soon as he
could make himself sufficiently calm to begin to investigate.
And it was in the above spirit, feeling quite certain that sooner or
later he would see a party coming in search of him, he began to examine,
turning his attention first towards the huge volcano, which rose up grim
and forbidding away to the north, with the globular cloud poised over
its highest part, which seemed as if cut right across in a slope.
Once he could turn his thoughts from the idea of peril, he began to be
interested and eager; for he was in the position so dear to a lover of
nature, there in a land surrounded by bird and insect forms for the most
part entirely fresh to him.
But there were other things to think of first. Principally, there was
that important discovery to make whether they were surrounded by the
sea, and to try and find this out he sought a higher point than any he
had yet mounted, and, taking out his little glass, followed the face of
the mist till it reached the glittering waters of the sea, and then
tried to trace the coastline towards the volcano.
This he was able to do with pretty good success, but as his glass was
directed to the lower and eastern slope of the mountain, he found that
he was as wise as ever, for the base of the mighty cone completely shut
off all view in that direction.
Turning to the mist again, he followed its edge to the west as far as he
could reach, but the inequalities in the surface baulked him here, and
he could not make out the sea in that direction.
He closed his little glass and turned to the mist curtain, that
mysterious dim line glistening with opalescent colours, and determined
as a last resource to walk quietly as close to it as he could, before
the gases began to affect him, then to draw back a few yards, take a few
deep inspirations, so as to fully inflate his lungs, and then rush
straight through; for he argued to himself, if he could pass through
once unprepared and taken by surprise, he could certainly reverse the
action.
In this spirit, and so as to get a little encouragement and inspiriting
for another task--in other words, so as to enjoy the feeling that a way
of retreat was open to him--he walked back toward the depression along
which the vapour rose, examining every step of the way, and noticing
that by degrees all growth ceased as he approached, and that the ground
gradually grew softer and then spongy to the tread, as if he were
walking over a bog.
The air remained very clear and good to breathe as he went on nearer and
nearer, seeing now that the fumes rose softly all along one jagged line
such as might have been formed by the earth opening right before him.
But there was no opening. As far as he could penetrate the dim mist,
the earth looked perfectly level, but the vapour rose from it as it does
or appears to do from a swampy meadow on a fine autumn evening; and it
was evident to him that he might try and dash through without fear of
running headlong into some chasm.
Just then, as he stood gazing down at the bottom of the curtain, the
idea struck him that perhaps there had been a wide rift right across to
right and left; that it had been filled up by volcanic matter, and the
vapour was caused by this lava or hot liquid mud slowly cooling down.
Convinced that this must be so, he had full endorsement of the
correctness of his theory, for on lifting one foot to go on, he found
that the other was sinking slowly, and a little further investigation
showed him that a faint thread of vapour was rising from the spot where
his heel had been.
The meaning of this barren space, and the reason for the earth feeling
spongy, was plain enough now, and he knew that he was walking over so
much half-fluid volcanic pitch, whose surface was slightly hardened and
formed the elastic springy band.
If it gave way!
The thought was enough to make the stoutest shudder, and feeling now
that his safety lay in movement, he took a few more steps towards the
vapour, finding himself, before he was aware of the fact, and without
the slightest mistiness being visible, within its influence.
He started away in alarm, for he was suffering from a slight attack of
vertigo, which did not pass off for a minute or two, and he walked, or
rather staggered, back, with the tough elastic film over which he walked
now rising and falling with an undulatory motion beneath his feet.
"Only as a last resource," he muttered, as he breathed freely once more;
and he could not repress a shudder as he stepped once more on solid
ground, plainly enough marked by the abounding growth, and grasping
fully how horrible a quagmire of hot slime was hidden by the partially
hardened crust over which he had passed.
Turning his face now toward the mountain, he hesitated for a few
moments, and then determined, as the distance seemed so short, to try
and do something now he was there; and in the intent of climbing a few
hundred feet up its side so as to get a view beyond, he marked out what
seemed to be the most open way, and started for the foot of the great
slope.