Intervention
Had I been a condemned criminal sentenced to the electric chair, my
torments would have been less hard to bear. For then, at least, I would
have known that I was suffering justly; I would have been surrounded
by people of my own kind and race; I would have had time in which
to prepare myself, and I would have had to face no such diabolical
instrument as the violet-ray. Oh, how I loathed the sight of that
machine. Even today I cannot think of it without an involuntary start
of fright! Yet, apparently, there was no power on Heaven or Earth to
save me from it. Coolly, deliberately, with the most matter-of-fact
manner, my oppressors dragged me out of prison, pulled me at the end
of a wire to the stone column that had witnessed the six executions,
and, still not approaching me, hurled some heavy iron strands around
the column in such a way as to hold me tightly against it.
Now it seemed to me that I was living through some horrible nightmare,
persecuted by devils. I saw the ghastly black-and-white figures of the
spectators crowded at a safe distance, their salmon eyes glittering
with pitiless curiosity; I saw the ten soldiers with their hatchet
helmets looking on like the creatures of some delirious vision; I saw
the death-machine being moved into place and watched the operator as
he peered through the little glass tube as if to make sure of his aim.
Then, while I gave a convulsive shudder and grew limp with fright, the
executioner lifted his hand to signify that all was ready....
The following seconds seemed each as long as whole hours. For the first
time since my childhood, I had an impulse to pray; my lips opened,
as if to gasp out a supplication to that Supreme Power in whom I no
longer believed; but nothing except a cracked, dry sound came forth,
and I half imagined I already heard my own death-rattle. In that final
second, I seemed to live through my whole life again, as the drowning
are said to do; I was a child in my mother's arms; I was a youth at
college; I was a grown man making love to that auburn-headed one who
might even now be my bride, if--
But at this point my remembrances ceased. My ears caught the tell-tale
whirring of the death-machine; my eyes beheld the cone of violet light,
its thin point tapering toward my breast; and, straining with a last
futile effort against the imprisoning wires, I thought that my days on
earth were over.
Several seconds, long-protracted, tortured seconds--went by. I was
aware of a faint warmth, a slight tickling sensation above the
heart--and that was all. Was my death to be painless?
Then, in a wild rush, hope came flooding back upon me. Might I not,
after all, be saved? Was I immune to the effects of the rays?
Yes!--the miracle had happened! Suddenly the whirring of the machine
ceased, the violet-ray snapped off, and the spectators, surging back
and forth with excited cries, showed that they shared my own surprise
at the failure of the execution.
But was I actually saved? Again I heard the fearful buzzing of the
machine; again the cone of violet light pointed toward me; again I felt
that ticking sensation in my breast. But I still defied the rays of
death!
After the third fruitless attempt, the chalk-faces seemed ready to
abandon the effort. I saw the soldiers gathered in a little knot as
though in conference; I heard the spectators noisily talking with
explosive exclamations; then, after a minute, to my great relief, one
of the helmeted ones reached out with a long forked pole and loosened
the wires that bound me.
A moment later, I was a free man! Still mystified as to the reason for
my escape, I felt impulsively at my chest, wondering if I had not been
wounded, ever though I felt no pain. And, as I did so, sudden light
dawned upon me. Beneath my coat, which had been punctured with a little
round incision like a bullet-hole, I felt a small familiar bulge. And
reaching into an inner pocket, I drew forth a little leather-covered
notebook! A deep, charred perforation, reaching almost through the
heavy back cover, showed what it was that had checked the deadly rays!
* * * * *
Had my enemies taken the trouble to search me in advance, I would not
have escaped so easily. Only their irrational dread of approaching me
could account for this omission!
But let me not exult prematurely! Now that the cause of the
interference had been discovered, what was to prevent my captors from
subjecting me once more to the violet rays?
Evidently, the same idea occurred to them as well. Seeing me take
the notebook out of my pocket, they uttered shrill exclamations of
interest, and the soldiers motioned me to surrender it. At first I
refused, but they bound me again with wires shot from one of the
rifle-like machines, forcing me to drop the book, which one of the
chalk-faces instantly drew toward him with a pronged pole.
But as he could not see clearly at close range, he placed it twenty or
thirty feet away, and examined it through a sort of binoculars, while
one of his companions turned the pages. I do not know what he found to
interest him, for all that it contained was some mining notes with some
printed matter bearing statistical information, such as the names and
populations of leading cities, the capitals of states, etc. Besides,
it was to be presumed that he could not read English! Nevertheless,
he uttered significant grunts as he looked from page to page, and one
would have thought he had gained invaluable knowledge!
All this was, however, of little consolation to me, for I still
expected to be executed the next minute. And was I not justified
in this expectation, judging from the way the operator of the
death-machine was testing the apparatus, turning the violet-ray on and
off every few seconds as if for practice?
Indeed, had it not been for the arrival of Professor Tan Trum, my
execution would have been postponed but a few minutes.
I mentioned the name of this renowned individual as I afterwards
learned it; for, at the time, of course, I knew nothing of his
distinguished reputation. I was only aware of the approach of a
chalk-face of unusual appearance. He was much taller and thinner than
any of his companions, being well over six feet in height and lean
in proportion, and he bent far forward as he walked. His gray hair
fell in long braids and curls from his massive brow; his embroidered
robe rippled almost to his ankles; and his face, instead of being
cleaned-shaven like that of his fellows, showed a long grizzled beard,
neatly parted in the center.
At his approach, the others withdrew, not exactly with deference,
but with a little of the awe of children at the appearance of some
authoritative adult, while he, not heeding them in the least, pushed
his way to the front of the crowd, took out his binoculars, and peered
at my notebook from a convenient distance.
As he did so, I could see his little reddish eyes beaming
enthusiastically. But I was little prepared for the whoop of joy which
he let out, or for his excited leap and rush in the direction of my
notebook. Approaching it, he had to grope like a blind man, since he
had even more trouble than his countrymen in seeing near at hand.
However, he finally managed to locate it, and, hugging it to his side
as though it were some rare art treasure, he uttered another cry of
delight.
The next moment, I noticed that his eyes were fastened upon me, but I
felt more friendliness than hostility in his glance; indeed, it turned
out that, for the first time since arriving in these nether depths, I
had found a defender. I realized that I personally interested him less
than did my notebook, yet he was so grateful that I could have kissed
his hand when he motioned to my captors, speaking sharply and angrily,
and they once more untied my bonds.
Yet I was to be disappointed if I imagined the ordeal to be over. I
was, indeed, relieved of the fear of instant execution; but other
trials and perils followed immediately. No sooner was I released
from the wires than the Professor issued an order and several of the
little coaster-like cars were wheeled up. What was my horror when I
was motioned to take my place on one of them! However, it was useless
to protest. Upon my refusal to obey commands, I was pitched on to one
of the vehicles with a two-pronged pole and was made to understand
that any attempt to escape would be severely treated. So I lay on the
car at full length, clinging to a little board projecting in front,
instead of squatting with crossed legs, in the manner of the natives.
Loud was their laughter to see me take this position, and great was
their surprise that I appeared to have no knowledge of the steering
mechanism; but they solved the difficulty by hitching my machine with a
wire to another, which forthwith dragged it away.
The ride that followed did not last more than ten minutes, but it was
an expedition through Hell itself. My mind kept no clear track of
details; I only know that we roared through narrow tunnels, lurched at
breakneck speed around curves, shot across causeways and bridges, raced
along avenues where other cars swept past in a gray whirl of speed, and
finally came to a halt with such abruptness that I was pitched forward
off my perch, and was only saved from serious injury by falling on
Professor Tan Trum, who drove the car ahead of mine.
* * * * *
Not being versed in the native language, I did not know what epithets
of abuse he used; but the sparks that flashed from his salmon eyes, and
the sharp tones of his indignant voice, testified to his anger as he
picked himself up, nursed a bruised arm, and brushed out the rumpled
embroidery of his gown. But, infuriated as he was, I could see that
his first thought was for my notebook, which he still firmly clutched.
Finding this unharmed, he seemed consoled for his injuries.
We were now joined by half a dozen more chalk-faces, including several
soldiers, who had followed us on other cars, and the whole party,
without delay, started down a brilliantly lighted gallery toward a
great shining hall. As always, most of the chalk-faces kept at a
distance from me, some of them trotting half a dozen yards behind,
and others as many yards ahead; but Professor Tan Trum, surprisingly,
seemed willing to walk at my side--an act of friendliness which filled
me with deep gratitude.
As we drew near the hall, my companions slackened their pace; when we
had come within a stone's throw of the entrance, I was startled to see
a row of soldiers, their faces hidden in triangular helmets, their
right hands clutching pikes twenty feet high. They all stood stiff
as stone and made no response to our salutes; in fact, such was their
lifeless rigidity that at first I supposed them to be, not living men,
but statues.
However, after one of our attendants had spoken, slipping a little
something into their hands, two of the soldiers proved themselves to
be human after all; they moved aside a few feet, making room for us to
pass; and, while their pikes gleamed high above us, we entered the hall
beyond.
I was now surprised to see my companions drop to their knees and move
forward on all fours in a grovelling attitude which I could not be
persuaded to imitate until a sharp cuff on the small of the back taught
me discretion. Even Professor Tan Trum had fallen into a most ungainly
and unbecoming posture; his lanky form, as he crept forward foot by
foot on his hands and knees, impressed me as so ridiculous that I could
not restrain a burst of laughter, which cost me a second and even more
severe cuff on the back.
But what was it that filled the chalk-faces with such humility? Had
they entered the shrine of a god--or the throne-room of their king?
After a moment, I accepted the latter explanation, although nothing
very kingly-looking met my eyes. There was, to be sure, plenty of pomp
and display; the walls of the hall, which was at least a hundred yards
across, were emblazoned with multitudes of brilliant white, red, and
yellow lights; enormous dragon-shaped banners of green and vermilion
hung from the high fretted ceilings, interspersed with long strings
of swords, pikes, and helmets; in the center, on a raised platform of
polished red sandstone, sat the most remarkable individual it had ever
been my fortune to behold.
Let me say, to begin with, that he was the smallest man I had
encountered outside of a circus. He may have been four feet high, but
I doubt it; his lean and weazened frame may have been as stout as that
of an eight-year-old, but again I doubt it. The legs, thin as those of
a paralytic, were little more than two dangling sticks; his arms were
scarcely better developed; his head was bald, his mouth toothless, and
his fingers without nails; his eyes were covered with instruments like
binoculars, through which he could see only with difficulty; his ears
were hidden by a mass of wires, and by black projections like telephone
receivers; his nostrils were encased in rubber-like tubes, connecting
with steel tanks which, as I later learned, contained oxygen; his
mouth, likewise, was fitted with breathing tubes, which I saw him
remove only in order to talk, which he did by means of a megaphone.
In other words, the poor creature seemed to have scarcely one of his
natural faculties intact!
Yet, to judge from the way in which he was dressed, he was a personage
of note. I shall spare the reader an account of his apparel, except
to say that, unlike his fellows, he was robed not in black, but in
resplendent green and saffron, with a purple crest upon his hairless
pate, and with a string of huge rubies dangling about his neck.
Personally, I did not care for the color scheme, but he himself was
apparently well pleased with it, for all about him, in a gleaming
circle, a row of large mirrors was displayed, and through these he was
feasted with a constant view of himself and could catch every turn and
nod and twist of his imperial countenance. Moreover, other mirrors,
spaced at intervals about the room, caught the reflections of the ones
nearest him and magnified them so that, in no matter what direction
one looked, one was sure to catch the image of that green-and-saffron
figure.
* * * * *
It was appropriate that throughout the greater part of the room, except
for the reflection of the central dignitary, there should be nothing at
all. But just around him, with a mincing and obsequious manner, twenty
attendants stood in waiting on the sandstone platform; whenever he made
a move or a gesture, were it only to smooth out his dress or scratch
the back of his neck, at least half of them would rush up to serve him.
I well remember their consternation on one occasion when their master,
with the most undignified suddenness, bent forward and sneezed; for a
moment, not knowing what was the trouble, I thought I was witnessing a
riot as the twenty attendants, like one man, leapt forward to readjust
the nose-tubes, which had been blown out of place.
All this I observed while my companions and I, on our hands and knees,
crept up to the throne of the potentate. Why should the chalk-faces,
absurd as they were, do reverence to such a monarch? I wondered, for
I now had no doubt that this was their royal lord. But knowing that
there is no accounting for political tastes, I dismissed the mystery as
beyond solution; and, for the sake of good form, I remained crouching
in a respectful attitude after we had finally halted twenty yards from
the throne.
For half an hour we remained on all fours, miserably waiting--at least,
_I_ was miserable. During all this time the sovereign seemed to take no
note at all of our existence, but remained seated in a sort of dreamy
trance, as if brooding on the mystic bliss of Nirvana. Unfortunately,
it was the rule among the chalk-faces that subjects could not speak
until spoken to; hence we might have remained stooping there all day,
and still not have gained an audience, had the dignitary not eventually
caught sight of me and become interested.
So interested was he, in fact, that he rose from his seat and tottered
to the edge of the platform--a distance of fully six feet, which
he accomplished with the utmost difficulty, while three attendants
supported him on each side. Then, for at least a minute, he stared at
me intently through his binoculars until, exhausted from the effort, he
had to be carried to his chair and fanned back to life again.
This process consumed at least ten minutes, during which we all had to
remain in the same uncomfortable attitude. But at length the regal one,
restored by the fanning of his servants and strengthened by hypodermic
injections, was revived sufficiently to be able to speak through the
megaphone which a slave lifted to his mouth. Of course, I did not know
what he said, but the words were high-pitched and squeaky and rasped
upon me like the edge of a file; but the effect was, at least, most
welcome, for all of us, with sighs of relief, were able to rise to our
feet.
Now Professor Tan Trum, after a flourish and a low bow, waved my
notebook high in the air for all to see and launched forth into speech.
And what a speech it was. The words seemed to trip and fall over one
another, as they came out in a rattling torrent; many minutes went by
with scarcely a pause for breath, while all the other chalk-faces made
scarcely an effort to conceal their yawns. At last even the monarch,
apparently, could endure it no longer; he lifted his arm in a gesture
of command, motioned for the megaphone, and snapped out two short
words--which instantly put an end to Tan Trum's discourse.
* * * * *
Not until much later did I learn that the ruler had granted everything
the professor had asked, nor did I know how deeply everything that had
happened affected myself. But his speech, as I afterwards read it in
the court records, ran something as follows:
"Lord High Dictator Thuno Flâtum, sovereign of the great empire of Wu
and illustrious ruler of the Underworld and the Overworld, I prostrate
myself before you! Long may your distinguished might endure! Long
may your power cause the nations to shake! I come to you today on a
momentous mission, and I trust you will let no thought of my personal
unworthiness deter you from that just decision for which you are so
rightly renowned. Know, O Thuno Flâtum, that this day a stranger of
queer and unprepossessing appearance has been found in our midst. His
dark skin and gray eyes proclaim him to be a member of one of those
colored races of which ancient traditions tell. But he was at first
mistaken for a spy sent out against us by our enemy, Zu, in the war
now being waged. This view was re-inforced by the fact that he was
found in the Scouting Galleries, just above Black Ravine, where the
forces of Your Highness have this day won such a glorious victory.
Hence he was sentenced to be executed, in accordance with that good old
maxim, 'In wartime, kill first and investigate afterwards.'
"But, as fortune would have it, I arrived in time to save him. Your
Highness will observe the curious little book which I carry in my hand;
this proves him to be not a spy after all, but a creature of some
outside race who arrived in some manner beyond our imagining. It is
preposterous, of course, to suppose that he came from the Overworld,
which, as our scientists have conclusively proved, is incapable of
supporting life, since all living things would be instantly killed by
the sunlight and fresh air. But may he not have come from caverns deep
down in the earth's center, where we have never penetrated?
"This is my theory, Your Highness, and it is supported by the queer
writing in his book, which I take to be the hieroglyphics of the
crude and undeveloped race of which he is a member. As a philologist,
I cannot but be interested, and as a student of primitive writing,
I consider that here is an unparalleled opportunity for scholarly
research. So I request, Your Highness, that you permit me to take him
to my own home, where I will care for him and will attempt, in case
his mind be capable of absorbing a few simple facts, to educate him in
the rudiments of our language, so as better to study his habits in the
interests of science. I will deliver a full report in not less than
three octavo volumes, before the Royal Institute of Anthropological
Abnormalities, and meanwhile will put up a bond to take every
reasonable care of the prisoner and not to let him bite any one or
escape...."
Such was the opening of Professor Tan Trum's speech, which continued in
the same vein for thirty pages. It is little wonder, therefore, that
the patience of Dictator Thuno Flâtum finally weakened, and that, with
his permission, I left the hall in the company of Professor Tan Trum,
to be launched by him into a new and unpredictably strange career.