It was not long before the launch again brought us within sight of the
mystery ship, the _Nippon_.
Here we landed and had the seaman take the launch back to the destroyer.
With a final inspection of our revolvers and knives, we started forward
through the rocks and timber toward the vessel.
It was the night of the full moon, but the satellite had not yet risen
above the mountains to the east, so we had only the soft gleam of the
stars to light us on our way. In spite of the northern latitude, it was
not uncomfortably cold, and soon we were spellbound by the gorgeous
panorama of the night. Above us, through the lattice-work of boughs, the
calm, cold stars moved majestically across the black immensity of space.
The dark was fragrant with the scent of pines. Strangely hushed and still
the universe appeared, as if in the silence world were whispering to
world.
We could now feel the periodic earthquakes very plainly—as if we were
directly over the seat of the disturbances.
In a few minutes we reached the edge of the clearing about the _Nippon’s_
wharf. There were no buildings, so we had an unobstructed view of the
vessel, lying tied to the dock. Two or three lights shone faintly from
her portholes, but no one was visible about her.
The wharf was at the entrance to a little side valley that ran off to
the southeast through a break in the precipitous wall of the fiord. From
this ravine poured a turbulent mountain stream which, I recalled from the
ship’s charts, was named Dean River.
After a brief look around we discovered a wide, smooth roadway leading
from the wharf into the valley, paralleling the stream. Keeping a
cautious lookout, we began to follow this road, slipping along through
the timber at its side.
In about five minutes we came to a coal mine on the slope beside
the highway. From the looks of its dump, it was being worked
constantly—probably furnishing the fuel to keep fire under the _Nippon’s_
boilers.
Fifteen more minutes passed in laborious climbing over rocks and fallen
timber, when all at once, after ascending a slight rise to another
level of the valley’s floor, we beheld the lights of a village a short
distance beyond! At once Dr. Gresham changed our course to take us up the
mountainside, whence we could look down upon the settlement.
To my amazement, we saw a neatly laid out town of more than a hundred
houses, with electric-lighted streets. Although the houses seemed
to be built entirely of corrugated sheet iron—probably because a
more substantial type of construction would not have withstood the
earthquakes—there was about the place an indefinable Chinese atmosphere.
My first shock of surprise at coming across this hidden city soon gave
way to wonder that the outside world knew nothing of such a place—that
it was not even indicated on the maps. But I recalled that on the land
side it was unapproachable because of lofty mountains, beyond which lay
an immense trackless wilderness; and on the water side it was a hundred
miles off even the navigation lanes to Alaska.
Suddenly, as we stood there in the timber, a deep-toned bell began to
toll on the summit of the low mountain above us.
“The Temple of the Moon God!” exclaimed Dr. Gresham.
With the sounding of the bell, the village awakened into life. From
nearly every house came figures clad in flaming orange costumes, exactly
like the ones Dr. Gresham and myself wore beneath our outer suits. At the
end of the town these figures mingled and turned into a roadway, and a
few moments later we saw they were coming up the hill directly toward us!
Not knowing which way they would pass, we crouched in the dark and waited.
Still the weird, mellow tocsin sounded above us—slowly, mystically,
flooding the valley with somber, thrilling sound.
All at once we heard the tramping of many feet, and then perceived with
alarm that the roadway up the mountainside passed not more than twenty
feet from where we lay! Along it the silent, strange procession was
mounting the slope!
“The Seuen-H’sin,” whispered my companion, “on their way to the hellish
temple rites!”
Scarcely breathing, we pressed flat upon the ground, fearful each instant
we might be discovered. For a period that seemed interminable the
brilliantly-clad figures continued to shuffle by—hundreds of them. But at
last there was an end of the marchers.
Immediately Dr. Gresham rose and, motioning me to follow his example,
quickly slipped off his blue outer costume and rolled it into a small
bundle, which he tucked under his arm. I was ready an instant later.
Creeping out to the road, we peered about to make certain no stragglers
were approaching; then we hurried after the ascending throng. It was only
a few moments until we overtook the rear ranks, whereupon we adopted
their gait and followed silently, apparently attracting no attention.
The mountain was not very high, and at last we came out upon a spacious
level area at the top. It was moderately well illuminated by electric
lamps, and at the eastern end, near the edge of the eminence, we beheld
a stone temple into which the multitude was passing. Depositing our rolls
of outer clothing in a spot where we could easily find them again, we
moved forward.
As we crossed the walled mountaintop, or temple courtyard it might be
called, I swiftly took in the strange surroundings. The temple was a
thing to marvel at. It was all of stone, with high, fantastically-carved
walls and an imposing facade of rounded columns. On either side of the
central structure were wings, or side halls, that ran off into the
darkness; and in front of these were walled courtyards with arched
gateways, roofed with golden-yellow tiles. The structure must have
required engineering skill of the highest order for its building, yet it
appeared old, incredibly old, as if the storms of centuries had beaten
upon it.
Everywhere about the walls were cracks—doubtless the result of the
earthquakes—so numerous and pronounced that one wondered how the building
held together.
Presently, as we advanced, I noticed an overturned and broken statue of
Buddha, the stone figure partly overgrown with moss and lichens. As I
studied this I recalled the bit of history Dr. Gresham had related to me
a couple of days before as we journeyed northward on the _Albatross_—of
the Chinese navigators, directed by Huei-Sen, a Buddhist monk, who had
come “somewhere to the north” in the year 499 A. D. And I wondered if
this was, indeed, the “Country of the Great Han” that was discovered by
these Orientals in the long ago—if this might be one of the temples which
Huei-Sen and his followers had built in the days a thousand years before
Columbus.