The officers and crew of the _Carillon_, our three selves, with
Inspector Hanafin and men of the _Firefly_, made a landing into the
country of perpetual day.
It was severely cold, and rain fell, each drop stinging like ice, when
we came upon a beach of vivid white sand, everywhere strangely marked
with black fragments of petrified wood, which at a distance closely
resembled rocks. Some ragged bush spread away to the north, and to the
south dreary shallows, where large-leaved plants floated. Before us a
razor-back succession of sand-hills, overhung by a clammy mist, hid all
that was beyond.
“We must push along,” said Inspector Hanafin, gathering his fur-lined
cloak about his uniform. “This is a malarial fever coast. Keep the
mosquitos off as much as you can.”
The _Firefly_ was anchored in the natural harbour made by a long reef.
Upon landing from our boats, most of the men went down on their
stomachs, and sucked up the unwholesome water. They were surly after
their dissipation, and awed by the presence of the inspector and his
two troopers, who had pursued Redpath across so many leagues of land
and lake.
We had released the sailors directly the police had come aboard; and
when we had taken some provisions, MacCaskill and I loading ourselves
with our tools and our packs, we made haste to desert the poisonous
mud-flats.
While we were making our way towards the sand-hills I looked for
Olaffson, whom I had seen on the boat; but the Icelander had already
disappeared, and I guessed he would work his way along the shore to
satisfy himself that Redpath was dead. I made no comment, because I was
glad to be rid of him.
We were on our way to find a camping-place outside the miasma of the
shore. MacCaskill, who had been tramping beside Lennie, joined me, and
whispered:
“Rupe, this is the beach Redpath was makin’ for.”
I ought to have been surprised, but somehow I wasn’t. I was tired and
indifferent.
“All right,” I said wearily.
As we toiled up the loose sand, I saw the red tops of the willow
bush peeping out of the “smoke.” We came over, descended through the
curiously thick fog, and suddenly walked right out of it into a pure
and clear atmosphere and a much warmer temperature. Beyond the sun was
shining; below spread a large hollow, its carpet a startling green,
its slopes covered with a luxuriant vine, which crossed and tangled
confusedly. The shifting sand changed to firm ground, which produced
a tall, stiff grass, the stems of darkest green, the points hard and
sharp, and black as ebony. The slope we were on resembled the back of
an immense porcupine.
We had not gone far before the men began to curse.
“Poison-grass,” said the inspector carelessly, as well he might,
because his own legs were protected by riding-boots. “We shall soon be
away from it. Walk straight, men, and tread it down firmly.”
“The devil of a country!” muttered MacCaskill.
“I don’t hold wi’ the bugs,” complained Pete, who was fairly capable,
but still nervous after his knock-down. “I don’t worry over grass-bite,
I don’t; but I hate to watch these yer black bugs.”
Long narrow insects writhed everywhere between the grass stems; they
were so numerous that we could not walk without treading across one or
more, and they were pulpy and unpleasant to crush.
“Never mind the bugs,” said Hanafin, who, I learnt, was a genuine
specimen of an English gentleman. “See that speckled plant, hemlock?
Everything seems more or less poisonous upon this bit of British
territory. By Jove, look here!”
The ground fell away suddenly, and we arrived above a succession of
pools, joined one to another by belts of swamp, the latter decorated
by luxuriant white moss. The black water was absolutely stagnant and
unreflecting; large bubbles rose continually, to burst, upon reaching
the surface, with a perfectly audible report. Stranger than these
bubbles were numerous solid-looking globes--a few opal-white, the
majority a very dark blue, others a dirty grey, all curiously marked
with shifting designs of every imaginable colour, though the blue
tint always predominated. These globes bounded over the pools without
marking the surface with the smallest ripple, just like rubber balls
bounding over the ground. Immediately a jumping globe touched the moss
it vanished; if it safely negotiated the morass, it bounded hilariously
over the next pool; if it fell short in its next jump, it invariably
paid the penalty of failure by becoming extinct.
“The hell of a country!” muttered MacCaskill.
“Not at all,” said Hanafin, who knew everything. “Nature discovered in
her own laboratory. We are near the magnetic circle, and I suspect two
of the earth’s currents meet at this hollow. Dip your hand into that
pool,” he said, turning to me.
“Do not,” said Akshelah.
I did not like the look of the thick, unmoving water. The inspector
drew aside his cloak, passed down before me, and dipped in his own
hand. I saw his shoulders lift, and his arm jerked back, before he
drew up smilingly, letting loose a long breath.
“This water ought to cure the sickest man on earth,” he said.
Curiosity tempted me, so I slid down and cautiously inserted my
fingers. The water was glutinous and tepid, but nothing happened. The
inspector looked at me with a faint smile.
“Keep your hand in, but come off the rock.”
I stepped off, and, when my feet touched the wet moss a strong shock
thrilled through my system, forcing back my arm, and passed in and out
of my body and across my shoulders, making me tingle all over.
“An electric pool,” said Hanafin, when I gave a gasp of relief to find
that the water showed no inclination to imprison my hand. “To-night the
little globes will resemble so many arc-lights, and the black pools
will be like mirrors with the sun upon them.”
Coming down into the hollow, towards the fringe of bush where we
intended to make our camp, we became stopped by a ridge of blood-red
rock, which rose abruptly like a wall. We thought nothing of the
obstacle, until we made the discovery that the barrier was not rock,
but a kind of slimy clay, which melted in the warmth of the hand, and
left the fingers stained scarlet. MacCaskill muttered yet another
reference concerning the country, while Lennie, who was utterly played
out, suggested camping where we were.
“When you can’t face your enemy, find a way round,” said the inspector.
“Norman, go and explore.”
The trooper swung round, astounding me by his ready obedience. He was
soon back to report that he had found the way round.
We reached the edge of the bush, made a clearing and a fire, and spread
open our packs.
The inspector selected the best-sheltered spot, called, “Norman, wake
me when breakfast is ready,” rolled up his fur-lined cloak for a
pillow, spread a silk handkerchief over his face, and went to sleep.
Lennie and the inspector intended to return to the pestilential shore
to drag the _Carillon_, if possible, off the poisonous mud-flat. The
ship was owned jointly by the Northern Fishing, the Outside Limit
Lumber, and the Hudson Bay Companies--all wealthy corporations.
Later on, I ventured to ask Hanafin what Redpath had done to deserve
the vengeance of the law, but the inspector only looked at me smilingly
over his cigarette, and propounded a question of his own:
“I suppose not even a young and agile man could hope to escape out of
that quagmire?”