HOW WE WERE LIGHTED ON OUR WAY DOWN THE DARK AND SILENT
RIVER.—SUDDEN AND FIERCE ONSLAUGHT UPON OUR BEAUTIFUL BOAT OF
SHELL.—A FIGHT FOR LIFE AGAINST TERRIBLE ODDS, AND HOW BULGER
STOOD BY ME THROUGH IT ALL.—COLD AIR AND LUMPS OF ICE.—OUR ENTRY
INTO THE CAVERN WHENCE THEY CAME.—THE BOAT OF SHELL COMES TO THE
END OF ITS VOYAGE.—SUNLIGHT IN THE WORLD WITHIN A WORLD, AND ALL
ABOUT THE WONDERFUL WINDOW THROUGH WHICH IT POURED, AND THE
MYSTERIOUS LAND IT LIGHTED.
I dare say, dear friends, that you are puzzling your brains to think out
how it was possible for me to row away from the wonderful city of the
Formifolk without running our boat continually ashore. Ah, you forget
that the keen-eyed Bulger was at the helm, and that it was not the first
time that he had piloted me through darkness impenetrable to my eyes;
but more than this: I soon discovered that the plashing of my silver
oars kept my little friends, the fire lizards, in a constant state of
alarm, and although I couldn’t hear the crackling of their tails, yet
the tiny flashes of light served to outline the shore admirably. So I
pulled away with a will, and down this dark and silent river, for there
was a current, although hardly perceptible, Bulger and I were borne
along in the beautiful bark of tortoise shell with its prow of carved
and burnished silver.
During my sojourn in the Land of the Soodopsies I had one day, while
calling upon the learned Barrel Brow, noticed a beautifully carved
silver hand-lamp of the Pompeian pattern among his curiosities. I asked
him if he knew what it was. He replied that he did, adding that it had
doubtless been brought from the upper world by his people, and he begged
me to accept it as a keepsake. I did so, and upon leaving the City of
Silver, I filled it with fish-oil and fitted a silken wick to it. It was
well that I had done so, for after a while the fire lizards disappeared
entirely, and Bulger and I would have been left in total darkness, had I
not drawn forth my beautiful silver lamp, lighted it, and suspended it
from the beak of the silver swan which curved its graceful neck above
the bow of our boat.
After lying on my oars long enough to set some food before Bulger and
partake of some myself, I again started on my voyage down the silent
river, no longer shrouded in impenetrable gloom.
I had not taken over half a dozen strokes, when suddenly one of my oars
was almost twisted out of my hand by a vicious tug, from some inhabitant
of these dark and sluggish waters. I resolved to quicken my stroke in
order to escape another such a wrench, for the silver oars fashioned by
the Soodopsies for me were of very delicate make, intended only for very
gentle usage. Suddenly another vicious snap was made at my other oar;
and this time the animal succeeded in retaining its hold, for I dared
not attempt to wrench the oar out of its grip, for fear of breaking it.
It was a large crustacean of the crab family, and its milk-white shell
gave it a ghost-like look as it struggled about in the black waters,
fiercely intent to keep its hold upon the oar. The next instant a
similar creature had fastened firmly upon my other oar, and there I sat
utterly helpless. But worse than this, the dark waters were now fairly
alive with these white armored guards of this underworld stream, each
apparently bent upon setting an immediate end to my progress through
their domain. They now began a series of furious efforts to lay hold of
the sides of my boat with their huge claws, but happily its polished
surface made this impossible for them to accomplish.
Up to this moment Bulger had not stirred a muscle or uttered a sound,
but now a sharp growl from him told me that something serious had
happened at his end of the boat. It was serious indeed, for several of
the largest of the fierce crustaceans had laid hold of the rudder and
were wrenching it from side to side as if to tear it off. Every attempt
of course caused a tug at the tiller-ropes held between Bulger’s teeth;
but, bracing himself firmly, he resisted their furious efforts as well
as he could, and succeeded in saving the rudder for the time being.
All of a sudden our frail bark of shell crashed into some sort of
obstruction, and came to a dead standstill. Peering into the darkness,
to my horror I saw that the wily enemy had spanned the river with chains
made up of living links by each laying hold of his neighbor’s claw, the
chain thus formed being then rendered almost as strong as steel by the
interweaving of their double rows of small hooked legs.
Our advance was not only blocked, but death, an awful death, seemed to
be staring us in the face; for what possible hope of escape could there
be if Bulger and I should leap into the water, now alive with these fast
swimming creatures, whirling their huge claws about in search for some
way to get at us. From the brave manner in which Bulger was holding the
madly swinging helm, I saw that he was determined not to surrender. But
alas, bravery is but a sorry thing for two to fight a thousand with! And
yet I had not lost my head—don’t think that. True, I was hard pressed;
the very dust of the balance, if thicker on their side, might make my
scale kick the beam.
I had hauled both oars into the boat by reaching over and beating off
the claws fastened upon them, and had up to this moment driven back
every one of the fierce creatures which had succeeded in throwing one of
his claws over the edge of the boat; but now, to my horror, I felt that
our little craft was being slowly but surely drawn stern first toward
the river bank. In order to accomplish this, the crustaceans had thrown
out a line composed of their bodies gripped together, and had made it
fast to the rudder. Not an instant was to be lost!
Once upon the river bank, the fierce creatures would swarm around us by
the tens of thousands, drag us down, pinch us to death, and tear us
piecemeal!
[Illustration: SAILING AWAY FROM THE LAND OF THE SOODOPSIES.]
An idea flashed upon me—it was this: it is folly to attempt to resist
these countless swarms of crustaceans by the use of one pair of weak
hands, even though they be aided by Bulger’s keen and willing teeth. We
should, after a brief struggle, go down as the brave man in the sewer
went down, when the famished rats leaped upon him from every side at
once, or as the stray buffalo goes down when the pack of ravenous wolves
closes up its circle about him. If I am to save my life, it must be by
striking a blow that will reach every one of these small but fierce
enemies at the same instant, and thus paralyze them, or, at least,
bewilder them, until I can succeed in making my escape!
Quickly drawing my brace of pistols, I held their muzzles close to the
water, and discharged them at the same instant. The effect was terrific.
Like a crash of a terrible thunderbolt, the report burst forth and
echoed through these vast and silent chambers, until it seemed as if the
great vaulted roof of rock had by some awful convulsion of nature been
cast roaring and rattling down upon the face of these black and sluggish
waters! When the smoke had cleared away, a strange but welcome sight met
my gaze. Tens of thousands of the huge crabs floated lifeless upon the
surface of the river, with their shells split by the concussion the full
length of their bodies.
It proved to have been a masterly stroke on my part, and, dear friends,
you will believe me when I tell you that I drew a deep breath as I set
my silver oars against the thole-pins, and, having worked my boat clear
of the swarms of stunned crustaceans, rowed away for dear life!
Dear life! Ah, yes, dear life, for whose life is not dear to him, even
though it be dark and gloomy at times? Is there not always something, or
some one, to live for? Is there not always a glimmer of hope that the
morrow’s sun will go up brighter than it did this morning? Well, anyway,
I repeat that I rowed away for dear life, while Bulger held the
tiller-ropes and kept our frail bark of polished shell in the middle of
the stream.
Whether the air was actually colder, or whether it was merely the
natural chill that so often strikes the human heart after it has been
beating and throbbing with alternate hope and fear, I couldn’t say at
the time; but I knew this much, that I suddenly found myself suffering
from the cold.
For the first time since my descent into the World within a World, the
air nipped my finger-tips; that soft, balmy, June-like atmosphere was
gone, and I made haste to put on my fur-trimmed top-coat, which I had
not made much use of lately.
At that moment one of my oars struck against some hard substance
floating in the waters. I put out my hand to feel of it. To my great
surprise it proved to be a lump of ice, and very soon another and
another went floating by us.
We were most surely entering a region where it was cold enough to make
ice. I was not sorry for this; for, to tell the truth, Bulger and I were
both beginning to feel the effects of our long sojourn in the rocky
chambers of this under world, whose atmosphere, though soft and warm,
yet lacked the elasticity of the open air.
Ice caverns would be a complete change, and the cold air would, no
doubt, send our blood tingling through our veins just as if we were out
a-sleighing in the upper world on a winter’s night, when the stars
twinkle over our heads and the snow crystals creak beneath our runners.
Soon now huge icicles began to dot the roof of rock that spanned the
river, and shafts and columns of ice dimly visible along the shore
seemed to be standing there like silent sentries, watching our boat as
it threaded its way through the ever-narrowing channel. And now, too, a
faint glow of light reached us from I knew not where, so that by
straining my eyes I could see that the river had taken a sweep, and
entered a vast cavern with roof and walls of ice fretted and carved into
fantastic depths and niches and shelves and cornices, with here and
there shapes so fanciful that it seemed to me I had entered some vast
hall of statuary, where hero and warrior, nymph and maiden, shepherd and
bird-catcher, filled these shelves and niches in glorious array. Farther
advance by water was impossible, for the blocks of ice, knitted together
like a floe, closed the river completely. I therefore determined to make
a landing—draw my boat upon the shore, and continue my journey on foot.
The mysterious light which up to this moment had shed its pale glimmer
like an arctic night upon the roofs and walls of ice of these silent
chambers now began to strengthen so that Bulger and I had no difficulty
in picking our way along the shore. In fact, we crossed and recrossed
the river itself when the whim seized us, for it now went winding on
ahead of us, like a broad ribbon of ice through caverns and corridors.
Suddenly I came to a halt and stood as motionless as the fantastic forms
of ice surrounding me. What could it mean? Were my eyes weakened by my
long sojourn in the World within a World, playing me cruel tricks?
Surely there can be no mistake! I whispered to myself. That light yonder
which pours its glorious effulgence upon those spires and pinnacles,
those towers and turrets of ice, is the sunshine of the upper world! Can
it be that my marvellous underground journey is ended, that I stand upon
the threshold of the upper world once more?
Bulger, too, recognizes this flood of sunshine, and breaking out into a
fit of joyous barking, dashes on ahead, to be the first one to feel its
gentle warmth after our long journey through the dark and silent
passages of the World within a World.
But I dare not trust my eyes, and fearing lest he should fall into some
ambush or meet with some dread accident, I called him back to me.
Together we hurry along as rapidly as possible. Now I note that we are
drawing near to the end of the vast corridor through which we have been
making our way for some time, and that we stand upon the portal of a
mighty subterranean region lighted with real sunlight. It stretches away
as far as the eye can reach, and so high is the roof that spans this
vast under world that I cannot see whether it be of ice or not. All that
I can see is that through one of its sloping sides there streams a
mighty torrent of sunlight, which pours its splendor with unstinting
hand upon the wide highways, the broad terraces, the sheer parapets, and
the sloping banks which diversify this ice world. Can it be that one
side of this mighty mountain which nature has here hollowed out and set
like a peaked roof over this vast subterranean region, is a gigantic
window of ice itself through which the sunlight of the outer world
streams in this grand way like a silent cataract of light, like a deluge
of sunshine? No, this could not be; for now upon a second look I saw
that this flood of light thus streaming through the side of the mountain
came through it like a mighty pencil of rays, and striking the opposite
walls with its brilliancy a hundred-fold increased, rebounded in a
thousand directions, flooding the whole region with its effulgence and
dying away in faint and pearl-like glimmer in the vast approach where I
had first noted it.
And therefore I understood that nature must have set a gigantic lens,
twice a thousand feet or more in diameter, in the sloping side of this
hollow mountain—a perfect lens of purest rock crystal, which, gathering
in its mysterious bosom the sunlight of the outer world, threw
it—intensely radiant and dazzling white—into the gloomy depths of this
World within a World, so that when the sun went up out there, it went up
in here as well, but became cold as it was beautiful, bringing no
warmth, no other cheer save light, to this subterranean region which for
thousands of centuries had lain locked in the crystal embrace of frozen
lakes and brooks and rivers and torrents and waterfalls, once bubbling
and flowing and rushing headlong through fair lands of the upper world,
but suddenly checked in their course by some bursting forth of mighty
pent-up forces, and turned downward into these icy depths condemned to
everlasting rest and silence, their crystals locked in a sleep that
never would know an awaking, mocked in their dreams by this mysterious
sunlight that came with the smile and the fair, winsome look of the
real, and yet was so powerless to set them free as once it did when the
springtime came in the upper world. All these thoughts and many others
besides flitted through my mind as I stood looking up at that mighty
lens in its setting of mightier rock.
And so deeply impressed was I by the sight of such a great flood of
sunlight pouring through this gigantic bull’s eye which nature had set
in the rocky side of the hollow mountain peak and illumining this under
world, that the longer I gazed upon the wonderful spectacle the more
firmly inthralled my senses became by it.
The deep silence, the deliciously pure air, the ever-varying tints of
the light as the mighty ice columns acting the part of prisms, literally
filled those vast chambers with the rainbow’s glorious glow, imparted
unto the spell resting upon me such unearthly power that it might have
held me there until my limbs hardened into icy crystals and my eyes
looked out with a frozen stare, had not the ever-watchful Bulger given a
gentle tug at the skirt of my coat and aroused me from my inthralling
meditation.