Produced by Suzanne Shell, Erica Jacobson, Sandra Brown,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading
Team
THE SECOND DELUGE
By
Garrett P. Serviss
1912
[Illustration: "THEY MEANT TO CARRY THE ARK WITH A RUSH" [Page 106] ]
FOREWORD
What is here set down is the fruit of long and careful research among
disjointed records left by survivors of the terrible events described.
The writer wishes frankly to say that, in some instances, he has
followed the course which all historians are compelled to take by using
his imagination to round out the picture. But he is able conscientiously
to declare that in the substance of his narrative, as well as in every
detail which is specifically described, he has followed faithfully the
accounts of eyewitnesses, or of those who were in a position to know the
truth of what they related.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. COSMO VERSÁL
II. MOCKING AT FATE
III. THE FIRST DROPS OF THE DELUGE
IV. THE WORLD SWEPT WITH TERROR
V. THE THIRD SIGN
VI. SELECTING THE FLOWER OF MANKIND
VII. THE WATERS BEGIN TO RISE
VIII. STORMING THE ARK
IX. THE COMPANY OF THE REPRIEVED
X. THE LAST DAY OF NEW YORK
XI. "A BILLION FOR A SHARE"
XII. THE SUBMERGENCE OF THE OLD WORLD
XIII. STRANGE FREAKS OF THE NEBULA
XIV. THE ESCAPE OF THE PRESIDENT
XV. PROFESSOR PLUDDER'S DEVICE
XVI. MUTINY IN THE ARK
XVII. THE _JULES VERNE_
XVIII. NAVIGATING OVER DROWNED EUROPE
XIX. TO PARIS UNDER THE SEA
XX. THE ADVENTURES IN COLORADO
XXI. "THE FATHER OF HORROR"
XXII. THE TERRIBLE NUCLEUS ARRIVES
XXIII. ROBBING THE CROWN OF THE WORLD
XXIV. THE FRENCHMAN'S NEW SCHEME
XXV. NEW YORK IN HER OCEAN TOMB
XXVI. NEW AMERICA
ILLUSTRATIONS
"THEY MEANT TO CARRY THE ARK WITH A RUSH"
"THE GREAT BATTLESHIP ... CRASHED, PROW ON, INTO THE STEEL-RIBBED WALLS"
"IT IS A PROPHECY OF THE SECOND DELUGE"
"AND THEN THEY FLOATED NEAR THE MONUMENTAL TOMB OF GENERAL GRANT"
THE SECOND DELUGE
CHAPTER I
COSMO VERSÁL
An undersized, lean, wizen-faced man, with an immense bald head, as
round and smooth and shining as a giant soap-bubble, and a pair of beady
black eyes, set close together, so that he resembled a gnome of amazing
brain capacity and prodigious power of concentration, sat bent over a
writing desk with a huge sheet of cardboard before him, on which he was
swiftly drawing geometrical and trigonometrical figures. Compasses,
T-squares, rulers, protractors, and ellipsographs obeyed the touch of
his fingers as if inspired with life.
The room around him was a jungle of terrestrial and celestial globes,
chemists' retorts, tubes, pipes, and all the indescribable apparatus
that modern science has invented, and which, to the uninitiated, seems
as incomprehensible as the ancient paraphernalia of alchemists and
astrologers. The walls were lined with book shelves, and adorned along
the upper portions with the most extraordinary photographs and drawings.
Even the ceiling was covered with charts, some representing the sky,
while many others were geological and topographical pictures of the face
of the earth.
Beside the drawing-board lay a pad of paper, and occasionally the little
man nervously turned to this, and, grasping a long pencil, made
elaborate calculations, covering the paper with a sprinkling of
mathematical symbols that looked like magnified animalcula. While he
worked, under a high light from a single window placed well up near the
ceiling, his forehead contracted into a hundred wrinkles, his cheeks
became feverous, his piercing eyes glowed with inner fire, and drops of
perspiration ran down in front of his ears. One would have thought that
he was laboring to save his very soul and had but a few seconds of
respite left.
Presently he threw down the pencil, and with astonishing agility let
himself rapidly, but carefully, off the stool on which he had been
sitting, keeping the palms of his hands on the seat beside his hips
until he felt his feet touch the floor. Then he darted at a book-shelf,
pulled down a ponderous tome, flapped it open in a clear space on the
floor, and dropped on his knees to consult it.
After turning a leaf or two he found what he was after, read down the
page, keeping a finger on the lines, and, having finished his reading,
jumped to his feet and hurried back to the stool, on which he mounted so
quickly that it was impossible to see how he managed it--without an
upset. Instantly he made a new diagram, and then fell to figuring
furiously on the pad, making his pencil gyrate so fast that its upper
end vibrated like the wing of a dragon-fly.
At last he threw down the pencil, and, encircling his knees with his
clasped arms, sank in a heap on the stool. The lids dropped over his
shining eyes, and he became buried in thought.
When he reopened his eyes and unbent his brows, his gaze happened to be
directed toward a row of curious big photographs which ran like a
pictured frieze round the upper side of the wall of the room. A casual
observer might have thought that the little man had been amusing himself
by photographing the explosions of fireworks on a Fourth of July night;
but it was evident by his expression that these singular pictures had no
connection with civic pyrotechnics, but must represent something of
incomparably greater importance, and, in fact, of stupendous import.
The little man's face took on a rapt look, in which wonder and fear
seemed to be blended. With a sweep of his hand he included the whole
series of photographs in a comprehensive glance, and then, settling his
gaze upon a particularly bizarre object in the center, he began to speak
aloud, although there was nobody to listen to him.
"My God!" he said. "That's it! That Lick photograph of the Lord Rosse
Nebula is its very image, except that there's no electric fire in it.
The same great whirl of outer spirals, and then comes the awful central
mass--and we're going to plunge straight into it. Then quintillions of
tons of water will condense on the earth and cover it like a universal
cloudburst. And then good-by to the human race--unless--unless--I, Cosmo
Versál, inspired by science, can save a remnant to repeople the planet
after the catastrophe."
Again, for a moment, he closed his eyes, and puckered his hemispherical
brow, while, with drawn-up knees, he seemed perilously balanced on the
high stool. Several times he slowly shook his head, like a dreaming owl,
and when his eyes reopened their fire was gone, and a reflective film
covered them. He began to speak, more deliberately than before, and in a
musing tone:
"What can I do? I don't believe there is a mountain on the face of the
globe lofty enough to lift its head above that flood. Hum, hum! It's no
use thinking about mountains! The flood will be six miles deep--six
miles from the present sea-level; my last calculation proves it beyond
all question. And that's only a minimum--it may be miles deeper, for no
mortal man can tell exactly what'll happen when the earth plunges into a
nebula.
"We'll have to float; that's the thing. I'll have to build an ark. I'll
be a second Noah. But I'll advise the whole world to build arks.
"Millions might save themselves that way, for the flood is not going to
last forever. We'll get through the nebula in a few months, and then the
waters will gradually recede, and the high lands will emerge again.
It'll be an awful long time, though; I doubt if the earth will ever be
just as it was before. There won't be much room, except for fish--but
there won't be many inhabitants for what dry land there is."
Once more he fell into silent meditation, and while he mused there came
a knock at the door. The little man started up on his seat, alert as a
squirrel, and turned his eyes over his shoulder, listening intently. The
knock was repeated--three quick sharp raps. Evidently he at once
recognized them.
"All right," he called out, and, letting himself down, ran swiftly to
the door and opened it.
A tall, thin man, with bushy black hair, heavy eyebrows, a high, narrow
forehead, and a wide, clean shaven mouth, wearing a solemn kind of
smile, entered and grasped the little man by both hands.
"Cosmo," he said, without wasting any time on preliminaries, "have you
worked it out?"
"I have just finished."
"And you find the worst?"
"Yes, worse than I ever dreamed it would be. The waters will be six
miles deep."
"Phew!" exclaimed the other, his smile fading. "That is indeed serious.
And when does it begin?"
"Inside of a year. We're within three hundred million miles of the
watery nebula now, and you know that the earth travels more than that
distance in twelve months."
"Have you seen it?"
"How could I see it--haven't I told you it is invisible? If it could be
seen all these stupid astronomers would have spotted it long ago. But
I'll tell you what I have seen."
Cosmo Versál's voice sank into a whisper, and he shuddered slightly as
he went on:
"Only last night I was sweeping the sky with the telescope when I
noticed, in Hercules and Lyra, and all that part of the heavens, a
dimming of some of the fainter stars. It was like the shadow of the
shroud of a ghost. Nobody else would have noticed it, and I wouldn't if
I had not been looking for it. It's knowledge that clarifies the eyes
and breeds knowledge, Joseph Smith. It was not truly visible, and yet I
could see that it was there. I tried to make out the shape of the
thing--but it was too indefinite. But I know very well what it is. See
here"--he suddenly broke off--"Look at that photograph." (He was
pointing at the Lord Rosse Nebula on the wall). "It's like that, only
it's coming edgewise toward us. We may miss some of the outer spirals,
but we're going smash into the center."
With fallen jaw, and black brows contracted, Joseph Smith stared at the
photograph.
"It doesn't shine like that," he said at last.
The little man snorted contemptuously.
"What have I told you about its invisibility?" he demanded.
"But how, then, do you know that it is of a watery nature?"
Cosmo Versál threw up his hands and waved them in an agony of
impatience. He climbed upon his stool to get nearer the level of the
other's eyes, and fixing him with his gaze, exclaimed:
"You know very well how I know it. I know it because I have demonstrated
with my new spectroscope, which analyzes extra-visual rays, that all
those dark nebulae that were photographed in the Milky Way years ago are
composed of watery vapor. They are far off, on the limits of the
universe. This one is one right at hand. It's a little one compared with
them--but it's enough, yes, it's enough! You know that more than two
years ago I began to correspond with astronomers all over the world
about this thing, and not one of them would listen to me. Well, they'll
listen when it's too late perhaps.
"They'll listen when the flood-gates are opened and the inundation
begins. It's not the first time that this thing has happened. I haven't
a doubt that the flood of Noah, that everybody pretends to laugh at now,
was caused by the earth passing through a watery nebula. But this will
be worse than that; there weren't two thousand million people to be
drowned then."
For five minutes neither spoke. Cosmo Versál swung on the stool, and
played with an ellipsograph; Joseph Smith dropped his chin on his breast
and nervously fingered the pockets of his long vest. At last he raised
his head and asked, in a low voice:
"What are you going to do, Cosmo?"
"I'm going to get ready," was the short reply.
"How?"
"Build an ark."
"But will you give no warning to others?"
"I'll do my best. I'll telephone to all the officials, scientific and
otherwise, in America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia. I'll write
in every language to all the newspapers and magazines. I'll send out
circulars. I'll counsel everybody to drop every other occupation and
begin to build arks--but nobody will heed me. You'll see. My ark will be
the only one, but I'll save as many in it as I can. And I depend upon
you, Joseph, to help me. From all appearances, it's the only chance that
the human race has of survival.
"If I hadn't made this discovery they would all have been wiped out like
miners in a flooded pit. We may persuade a few to be saved--but what an
awful thing it is that when the truth is thrust into their very faces
people won't believe, won't listen, won't see, won't be helped, but will
die like dogs in their obstinate ignorance and blindness."
"But they will, they must, listen to you," said Joseph Smith eagerly.
"They _won't_, but I must _make_ them," replied Cosmo Versál.
"Anyhow, I must make a few of the best of them hear me. The fate of a
whole race is at stake. If we can save a handful of the best blood and
brain of mankind, the world will have a new chance, and perhaps a better
and higher race will be the result. Since I can't save them all, I'll
pick and choose. I'll have the flower of humanity in my ark. I'll at
least snatch that much from the jaws of destruction."
The little man was growing very earnest and his eyes were aglow with the
fire of enthusiastic purpose. As he dropped his head on one side, it
looked too heavy for the stemlike neck, but it conveyed an impression of
immense intellectual power. Its imposing contour lent force to his
words.
"The flower of humanity," he continued after a slight pause. "Who
composes it? I must decide that question. Is it the billionaires? Is it
the kings and rulers? Is it the men of science? Is it the society
leaders? Bah! I'll have to think on that. I can't take them all, but
I'll give them all a chance to save themselves--though I know they won't
act on the advice."
Here he paused.
"Won't the existing ships do--especially if more are built?" Joseph
Smith suddenly asked, interrupting Cosmo's train of thought.
"Not at all," was the reply. "They're not suited to the kind of
navigation that will be demanded. They're not buoyant enough, nor
manageable enough, and they haven't enough carrying capacity for power
and provisions. They'll be swamped at the wharves, or if they should get
away they'd be sent to the bottom inside a few hours. Nothing but
specially constructed arks will serve. And _there's_ more trouble
for me--I must devise a new form of vessel. Heavens, how short the time
is! Why couldn't I have found this out ten years ago? It's only to-day
that I have myself learned the full truth, though I have worked on it so
long."
"How many will you be able to carry in your ark?" asked Smith.
"I can't tell yet. That's another question to be carefully considered. I
shall build the vessel of this new metal, levium, half as heavy as
aluminum and twice as strong as steel. I ought to find room without the
slightest difficulty for a round thousand in it."
"Surely many more than that!" exclaimed Joseph Smith. "Why, there are
ocean-liners that carry several times as many."
"You forget," replied Cosmo Versál, "that we must have provisions enough
to last for a long time, because we cannot count on the immediate
re-emergence of any land, even the most mountainous, and the most
compressed food takes space when a great quantity is needed. It won't do
to overcrowd the vessel, and invite sickness. Then, too, I must take
many animals along."
"Animals," returned Smith. "I hadn't thought of that. But is it
necessary?"
"Absolutely. Would you have less foresight than Noah? I shall not
imitate him by taking male and female of every species, but I must at
least provide for restocking such land as eventually appears above the
waters with the animals most useful to man. Then, too, animals are
essential to the life of the earth. Any agricultural chemist would tell
you that. They play an indispensable part in the vital cycle of the
soil. I must also take certain species of insects and birds. I'll
telephone Professor Hergeschmitberger at Berlin to learn precisely what
are the capitally important species of the animal kingdom."
"And when will you begin the construction of the ark?"
"Instantly. There's not a moment to lose. And it's equally important to
send out warnings broadcast immediately. There you can help me. You know
what I want to say. Write it out at once; put it as strong as you can;
send it everywhere; put it in the shape of posters; hurry it to the
newspaper offices. Telephone, in my name, to the Carnegie Institution,
to the Smithsonian Institution, to the Royal Society, to the French,
Russian, Italian, German, and all the other Academies and Associations
of Science to be found anywhere on earth.
"Don't neglect the slightest means of publicity. Thank Heaven, the money
to pay for all this is not lacking. If my good father, when he piled up
his fortune from the profits of the Transcontinental Aerian Company,
could have foreseen the use to which his son would put it for the
benefit--what do I say, for the benefit? nay, for the _salvation_--of
mankind, he would have rejoiced in his work."
"Ah, that reminds me," exclaimed Joseph Smith. "I was about to ask, a
few minutes ago, why airships would not do for this business. Couldn't
people save themselves from the flood by taking refuge in the
atmosphere?"
Cosmo Versál looked at his questioner with an ironical smile.
"Do you know," he asked, "how long a dirigible can be kept afloat? Do
you know for how long a voyage the best aeroplane types can be
provisioned with power? There's not an air-ship of any kind that can go
more than two weeks at the very uttermost without touching solid earth,
and then it must be mighty sparing of its power. If we can save mankind
now, and give it another chance, perhaps the time will come when power
can be drawn out of the ether of space, and men can float in the air as
long as they choose.
"But as things are now, we must go back to Noah's plan, and trust to the
buoyant power of water. I fully expect that when the deluge begins
people will flock to the high-lands and the mountains in air-ships--but
alas! that won't save them. Remember what I have told you--this flood is
going to be six miles deep!"
The second morning after the conversation between Cosmo Versál and
Joseph Smith, New York was startled by seeing, in huge red letters, on
every blank wall, on the bare flanks of towering sky-scrapers, on the
lofty stations of aeroplane lines, on bill-boards, fences,
advertising-boards along suburban roads, in the Subway stations, and
fluttering from strings of kites over the city, the following
announcement:
THE WORLD IS TO BE DROWNED!
Save Yourselves While It Is Yet Time!
Drop Your Business: It Is of No Consequence!
Build Arks: It Is Your Only Salvation!
The Earth Is Going To Plunge into a Watery
Nebula: There Is No Escape!
Hundreds of Millions Will Be Drowned: You Have
Only a Few Months To Get Ready!
For Particulars Address: Cosmo Versál,
3000 Fifth Avenue.