GOD BE WITH IT.
_From August 29 to September 10_.--Thirteen days have gone by and
the _Ebba_ has not returned. Did she then not make straight for the
American coast? Has she been delayed by a buccaneering cruise in the
neighborhood of Back Cup? It seems to me that Ker Karraje's only
desire would be to get back with the sections of Roch's engines as
soon as possible. Maybe the Virginian foundry had not quite finished
them.
Engineer Serko does not display the least anxiety or impatience. He
continues to greet me with his accustomed ironical cordiality, and
with a kindly air that I distrust--with good reason. He affects to be
solicitous as to my health, urges me to make the best of a bad job,
calls me Ali Baba, assures me that there is not, in the whole world,
such an enchanting spot as this Arabian Nights cavern, observes that I
am fed, warmed, lodged, and clothed, that I have no taxes to pay, and
that even the inhabitants of the favored principality of Monaco do not
enjoy an existence more free from care.
Sometimes this ironical verbiage brings the blood to my face, and I
am tempted to seize this cynical banterer by the throat and choke the
life out of him. They would kill me afterwards. Still, what would that
matter! Would it not be better to end in this way than to spend years
and years amid these infernal and infamous surroundings? However,
while there is life there is hope, I reflect, and this thought
restrains me.
I have scarcely set eyes upon Thomas Roch since the _Ebba_ went away.
He shuts himself up in his laboratory and works unceasingly. If he
utilizes all the substances placed at his disposition there will be
enough to blow up Back Cup and the whole Bermudan archipelago with it!
I cling to the hope that he will never consent to give up the secret
of his deflagrator, and that Engineer Serko's efforts to acquire it
will remain futile.
_September 3_.--To-day I have been able to witness with my own eyes
the power of Roch's explosive, and also the manner in which the
fulgurator is employed.
During the morning the men began to pierce the passage through the
wall of the cavern at the spot fixed upon by Engineer Serko, who
superintended the work in person. The work began at the base, where
the rock is as hard as granite. To have continued it with pickaxes
would have entailed long and arduous labor, inasmuch as the wall at
this place is not less than from twenty to thirty yards in thickness,
but thanks to Roch's fulgurator the passage will be completed easily
and rapidly.
I may well be astonished at what I have seen. The pickaxes hardly made
any impression on the rock, but its disaggregation was effected with
really remarkable facility by means of the fulgurator.
A few grains of this explosive shattered the rocky mass and reduced it
to almost impalpable powder that one's breath could disperse as easily
as vapor. The explosion produced an excavation measuring fully a cubic
yard. It was accompanied by a sharp detonation that may be compared to
the report of a cannon.
The first charge used, although a very small one, a mere pinch, blew
the men in every direction, and two of them were seriously injured.
Engineer Serko himself was projected several yards, and sustained some
rather severe contusions.
Here is how this substance, whose bursting force surpasses anything
hitherto conceived, is employed.
A small hole about an inch and a half in length is pierced obliquely
in the rock. A few grains of the explosive are then inserted, but no
wad is used.
Then Thomas Roch steps forward. In his hand is a little glass phial
containing a bluish, oily liquid that congeals almost as soon as it
comes in contact with the air. He pours one drop on the entrance of
the hole, and draws back, but not with undue haste. It takes a certain
time--about thirty-five seconds, I reckon--before the combination of
the fulgurator and deflagrator is effected. But when the explosion
does take place its power of disaggregation is such--I repeat--that
it may be regarded as unlimited. It is at any rate a thousand times
superior to that of any known explosive.
Under these circumstances it will probably not take more than a week
to complete the tunnel.
_September 19_.--For some time past I have observed that the tide
rises and falls twice every twenty-four hours, and that the ebb and
flow produce a rather swift current through the submarine tunnel. It
is pretty certain therefore that a floating object thrown into the
lagoon when the top of the orifice is uncovered would be carried out
by the receding tide. It is just possible that during the lowest
equinoctial tides the top of the orifice is uncovered. This I shall be
able to ascertain, as this is precisely the time they occur. To-day,
September 19, I could almost distinguish the summit of the hole under
the water. The day after to-morrow, if ever, it will be uncovered.
Very well then, if I cannot myself attempt to get through, may be a
bottle thrown into the lagoon might be carried out during the last
few minutes of the ebb. And might not this bottle by chance--an
ultra-providential chance, I must avow--be picked up by a ship passing
near Back Cup? Perhaps even it might be borne away by a friendly
current and cast upon one of the Bermudan beaches. What if that bottle
contained a letter?
I cannot get this thought out of my mind, and it works me up into a
great state of excitement. Then objections crop up--this one among
others: the bottle might be swept against the rocks and smashed ere
ever it could get out of the tunnel. Very true, but what if, instead
of a bottle a diminutive, tightly closed keg were used? It would not
run any danger of being smashed and would besides stand a much better
chance of reaching the open sea.
_September 20_.--This evening, I, unperceived, entered one of the
store houses containing the booty pillaged from various ships and
procured a keg very suitable for my experiment.
I hid the keg under my coat, and returned to the Beehive and my cell.
Then without losing an instant I set to work. Paper, pen, ink, nothing
was wanting, as will be supposed from the fact that for three months I
have been making notes and dotting down my impressions daily.
I indite the following message:
"On June 15 last Thomas Roch and his keeper Gaydon, or rather Simon
Hart, the French engineer who occupied Pavilion No. 17, at Healthful
House, near New-Berne, North Carolina, United States of America, were
kidnapped and carried on board the schooner _Ebba_, belonging to the
Count d'Artigas. Both are now confined in the interior of a cavern
which serves as a lair for the said Count d'Artigas--who is really Ker
Karraje, the pirate who some time ago carried on his depredations in
the West Pacific--and for about a hundred men of which his band is
composed.
"When he has obtained possession of Roch's fulgurator whose power is,
so to speak, without limit, Ker Karraje will be in a position to carry
on his crimes with complete impunity.
"It is therefore urgent that the states interested should destroy his
lair without delay.
"The cavern in which the pirate Ker Karraje has taken refuge is in the
interior of the islet of Back Cup, which is wrongly regarded as
an active volcano. It is situated at the western extremity of the
archipelago of Bermuda, and on the east is bounded by a range of
reefs, but on the north, south, and west is open.
"Communication with the inside of the mountain is only possible
through a tunnel a few yards under water in a narrow pass on the west.
A submarine apparatus therefore is necessary to effect an entrance, at
any rate until a tunnel they are boring through the northwestern wall
of the cavern is completed.
"The pirate Ker Karraje employs an apparatus of this kind--the
submarine boat that the Count d'Artigas ordered of the Cramps and
which was supposed to have been lost during the public experiment with
it in Charleston Bay. This boat is used not only for the purpose of
entering and issuing from Back Cup, but also to tow the schooner and
attack merchant vessels in Bermudan waters.
"This schooner _Ebba_, so well known on the American coast, is kept
in a small creek on the western side of the island, behind a mass of
rocks, and is invisible from the sea.
"The best place to land is on the west coast formerly occupied by the
colony of Bermudan fishers; but it would first be advisable to effect
a breach in the side of the cavern by means of the most powerful
melinite shells.
"The fact that Ker Karraje may be in the position to use Roch's
fulgurator for the defence of the island must also be taken into
consideration. Let it be well borne in mind that if its destructive
power surpasses anything ever conceived or dreamed of, it extends over
a zone not exceeding a mile in extent. The distance of this dangerous
zone is variable, but once the engines have been set, the modification
of the distance occupies some time, and a warship that succeeds in
passing the zone has nothing further to fear.
"This document is written on the twentieth day of September at eight
o'clock in the evening and is signed with my name
"THOMAS HART, Engineer."
The above is the text of the statement I have just drawn up. It says
all that is necessary about the island, whose exact situation is
marked on all modern charts and maps, and points out the expediency
of acting without delay, and what to do in case Ker Karraje is in the
position to employ Roch's fulgurator.
I add a plan of the cavern showing its internal configuration, the
situation of the lagoon, the lay of the Beehive, Ker Karraje's
habitation, my cell, and Thomas Roch's laboratory.
I wrap the document in a piece of tarpaulin and insert the package in
the little keg, which measures six inches by three and a half. It
is perfectly watertight and will stand any amount of knocking about
against the rocks.
There is one danger, however, and that is, that it may be swept back
by the returning tide, cast up on the island, and fall into the hands
of the crew of the _Ebba_ when the schooner is hauled into her creek.
If Ker Karraje ever gets hold of it, it will be all up with me.
It will be readily conceived with what anxiety I have awaited the
moment to make the attempt: I am in a perfect fever of excitement,
for it is a matter of life or death to me. I calculate from previous
observations that the tide will be very low at about a quarter to
nine. The top of the tunnel ought then to be a foot and a half above
water, which is more than enough to permit of the keg passing through
it. It will be another half hour at least before the flow sets in
again, and by that time the keg may be far enough away to escape being
thrown back on the coast.
I peer out of my cell. There is no one about, and I advance to the
side of the lagoon, where by the light of a nearby lamp, I perceive
the arch of the tunnel, towards which the current seems to be setting
pretty swiftly.
I go down to the very edge, and cast in the keg which contains the
precious document and all my hopes.
"God be with it!" I fervently exclaim. "God be with it!"
For a minute or two the little barrel remains stationary, and then
floats back to the side again. I throw it out once more with all my
strength.
This time it is in the track of the current, which to my great joy
sweeps it along and in twenty seconds, it has disappeared in the
tunnel.
Yes, God be with it! May Heaven guide thee, little barrel! May it
protect all those whom Ker Karraje menaces and grant that this band of
pirates may not escape from the justice of man!