Margaret was put into the charge of her faithful house-keeper, and
Roland did not see her again until the evening. As she met him she began
immediately to talk upon some unimportant subject, and there was that
in her face which told him that it was her desire that the great
thought which filled both their minds should not be the subject of their
conversation. She told him she was going to the sea-shore for a short
time; she needed a change, and she would go the next day. He understood
her perfectly, and they discussed various matters of business connected
with the Works. She said nothing about the time of her return, and he
did not allude to it.
On the day that Margaret left Sardis, Roland began his preparations for
descending the shaft. He had so thoroughly considered the machinery and
appliances necessary for the undertaking, and had worked out all his
plans in such detail, in his mind and upon paper, that he knew exactly
what he wanted to do. His orders for the great length of chain exhausted
the stock of several manufactories, and the engines he obtained were
even more powerful than he had intended them to be; but these he could
procure immediately, and for smaller ones he would have been obliged to
wait.
The circular car which was intended to move up and down the shaft, and
the peculiar machinery connected with it, with the hoisting apparatus,
were all made in his Works. His skilled artisans labored steadily day
and night.
It was ten days before he was ready to make his descent. Margaret was
still at the sea-shore. They had written to each other frequently, but
neither had made mention of the great shaft. Even when he was ready
to go down he said nothing to any one of any immediate intention of
descending. There was a massive door which covered the mouth of the pit;
this he ordered locked and went away.
The next morning he walked into the building a little earlier than was
his custom, called for the engineers, and for Mr. Bryce, who was to take
charge of everything connected with the descent, and announced that he
was going down as soon as preparations could be made.
Mr. Bryce and the men who were to assist him were very serious. They
said nothing that was not necessary. If their employer had been any
other man than Roland Clewe it is possible they might have remonstrated
with him. But they knew him, and they said and did nothing more than was
their duty.
The door of the shaft was removed, the car which had hung high above it
was lowered to the mouth of the opening, and Roland stepped within it
and seated himself. Above him and around him were placed geological
tools and instruments of many kinds; a lantern, food and drink;
everything, in fact, which he could possibly be presumed to need upon
this extraordinary journey. A telephone was at his side by which he
could communicate at any time with the surface of the earth. There were
electric bells; there was everything to make his expedition safe and
profitable. When he gave the word to start the engines, there were no
ceremonies, and nothing was said out of the common.
When the conical top of the car had descended below the surface, a steel
grating, with orifices for the passage of the chains, was let down over
the mouth of the shaft, and the downward journey was begun. In the
floor of the car were grated openings, through which Clewe could look
downward; but although the shaft below him was brilliantly illuminated
by electric lights placed under the car, it did not frighten him or make
him dizzy to look down, for the aperture did not appear to be very far
below him. The upper part of the car was partially open, and bright
lights shone upon the sides of the shaft.
As he slowly descended, he could see the various strata appearing and
disappearing in the order in which he knew them. Not far below the
surface he passed cavities which he believed held water; but there was
no water in them now. He had expected these, and had feared that
upon their edges there might be loosened patches of rock or soil, but
everything seemed tightly packed and hard. If anything had been loosened
it had gone down already.
Down, down he went until he came to the eternal rocks, where the inside
of the shaft was polished as if it had been made of glass. It became
warmer and warmer, but he knew that the heat would soon decrease. The
character of the rocks changed, and he studied them as he went down, and
continually made notes.
After a time the polished rocky sides of the shaft grew to be of a
solemn sameness. Clewe ceased to take notes; he lighted a cigar and
smoked. He tried to quietly imagine what he would come to when he got
to the bottom; it would be some sort of a cave into which his shell had
made an opening. He wondered what sort of a cave it would be, and how
high the roof of it was from the bottom. He wondered if his gardener had
remembered what he had told him about the flower-beds in front of his
house; he wanted certain changes made which Margaret had suggested. He
tried to keep his mind on the flower-beds, but it drifted away to the
cave below. He began to wonder if he would come to some underground
body of water where he would be drowned; but he knew that was a silly
thought. If the shaft had gone through subterranean reservoirs, the
water of these would have run out, and before they reached the bottom of
the shaft would have dissipated into mist.
Down, down he went. He looked at his watch; he had been in that car only
an hour and a half. Was that possible? He had supposed he was almost
at the bottom. Suddenly he thought of the people above, and of the
telephone. Why had not some of them spoken to him? It was shameful! He
instantly called Bryce, and his heart leaped with joy when he heard the
familiar voice in his ear. Now he talked steadily on for more than an
hour. He had his gardener called, and he told him all that he wanted
done in the flower-beds. He gave many directions in regard to the
various operations of the Works. Things had been put back a great deal
of late. He hoped soon to have everything going on in the ordinary way.
There were two or three inventions in which he took particular interest,
and of these he talked at great length with Mr. Bryce. Suddenly, in the
midst of some talk about hollow steel rods, he told Bryce to let the
engines move faster; there was no reason why the car should go so
slowly.
The windlasses moved with a little more rapidity, and Clewe now turned
and looked at an indicator which was placed on the side of the car, a
little over his head. This instrument showed the depth to which he had
descended, but he had not looked at it before, for if there should
be anything which would make him nervous it would be the continual
consideration of the depth to which he had descended.
The indicator showed that he had gone down fourteen and one eighth
miles. Clewe turned and sat stiffly in his seat. He glanced down and saw
beneath him only an illuminated hole, fading away at the bottom. Then he
turned to speak to Bryce, but to his surprise he could think of nothing
to say. After that he lighted another cigar and sat quietly.
Some minutes passed--he did not know how many--and he looked down
through the gratings at the floor of the car. The electric light
streamed downward through a deep orifice, which did not fade away and
end in nothing; it ended in something dark and glittering. Then, as he
came nearer and nearer to this glittering thing, he saw that it was his
automatic shell, lying on its side, but he could see only a part of it
through the opening of the bottom of the shaft which he was descending.
In an instant, as it seemed to him, the car emerged from the narrow
shaft, and he seemed to be hanging in the air-at least there was nothing
he could see except that great shell, lying some forty feet below him.
But it was impossible that the shell should be lying on the air! He rang
to stop the car.
“Anything the matter?” cried Bryce, almost at the same instant.
“Nothing at all,” Clewe replied. “It's all right, I am near the bottom.”
In a state of the highest nervous excitement, Clewe gazed about him.
He was no longer in a shaft; but where was he? Look out on what side he
would, he saw nothing but the light going out from his lamps, but which
seemed to extend indefinitely all about him. There seemed to be no limit
to his vision in any direction. Then he leaned over the side of his car
and looked downward. There was the great shell directly under him, but
under it and around it, extending as far beneath it as it extended in
every other direction, was the light from his own lamps, and yet that
great shell, weighing many tons, lay as if it rested upon the solid
ground!
After a few moments Clewe shut his eyes; they pained him. Something
seemed to be coming into them like a fine frost in a winter wind. Then
he called to Bryce to let the car descend very slowly. It went down,
down, gradually approaching the great shell. When the bottom of the car
was within two feet of it, Clewe rang to stop. He looked down at the
complicated machine he had worked upon so long, with something like a
feeling of affection. This he knew, it was his own. Looking upon
its familiar form, he felt that he had a companion in this region of
unreality.
Pushing back the sliding door of the car, Clewe sat upon the bottom and
cautiously put out his feet and legs, lowering them until they touched
the shell. It was firm and solid. Although he knew it must be so,
the immovability of the great mass of iron gave him a sudden shock of
mysterious fear. How could it be immovable when there was nothing under
it?
But he must get out of that car, he must explore, he must find out.
There certainly could be no danger so long as he could cling to his
shell.
He now cautiously got out of the car and let himself down upon the
shell. It was not a pleasant surface to stand upon, being uneven, with
great spiral ribs, and Clewe sat down upon it, clinging to it with
his hands. Then he leaned over to one side and looked beneath him. The
shadows of that shell went down, down, down, until it made him sick to
look at it. He drew back quickly, clutched the shell with his arms,
and shut his eyes. He felt as if he were about to drop with it into a
measureless depth of atmosphere.
But he soon raised himself. He had not come down here to be frightened,
to let his nerves run away with him. He had come to find out things.
What was it that this shell rested upon? Seizing two of the ribs with a
strong clutch, he let himself hang over the sides of the shell until
his feet were level with its lower side. They touched something hard.
He pressed them downward; it was very hard. He raised himself and stood
upon the substance which supported the shell. It was as solid as any
rock. He looked down and saw his shadow stretching far beneath him. It
seemed as if he were standing upon petrified air. He put out one foot
and he moved a little, still holding on to the shell. He walked, as if
upon solid air, to the foremost end of the long projectile. It relieved
him to turn his thoughts from what was around him to this familiar
object. He found its conical end shattered and broken.
After a little he slowly made his way back to the other end of the
shell, and now his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the great radiance
about him. He thought he could perceive here and there faint indications
of long, nearly horizontal lines--lines of different shades of light.
Above him, as if it hung in the air, was the round, dark hole through
which he had descended.
He rose, took his hands from the shell, and made a few steps. He trod
upon a horizontal surface, but in putting one foot forward, he felt a
slight incline. It seemed to him that he was about to slip downward!
Instantly he retreated to the shell and clutched it in a sudden frenzy
of fear.
Standing thus, with his eyes still wandering, he heard the bell of the
telephone ring. Without hesitation he mounted the shell and got into the
car. Bryce was calling him.
“Come up,” he said. “You have been down there long enough. No matter
what you have found, it is time for you to come up.”
Roland Clewe was not accustomed to receive commands, but he instantly
closed the sliding door of the car, seated himself, and put his mouth to
the telephone.
“All right,” he said. “You can haul me up, but go very slowly at first.”
The car rose. When it reached the orifice in the top of the cave of
light, Clewe heard the conical steel top grate slightly as it touched
its edge, for it was still swinging a little from the motion given to it
by his entrance; but it soon hung perfectly vertical and went silently
up the shaft.