THE DOOM OF NORDHU.
FOR a while the thing seemed too good to be true. As the light
drew nearer, however, and the explorers saw that it really came
from their vessel, their thankfulness knew no bounds. All else was
forgotten. The movements of Nordhu, their enemy, ceased to interest
them any longer. They had eyes for nothing but the approaching vessel.
Rapidly Seymour acquainted the king with the state of affairs,
and Chenobi seemed as pleased as anyone at the turn things had taken.
He was eager as a child to see the strange vessel that moved without
oars, but his fury against the priest remained unappeased. Nordhu had
escaped his vengeance for the time, and the hate that was in his heart
was increased ten-fold by the temporary check.
That it was other than temporary he would not for a moment
believe, and he waited impatiently for the fugitive swimmer to turn
for the shore. He would grapple with him ere he could land, and then
let him use his thunder-ball if he would.
Had Chenobi been alone when Nordhu appeared at the tunnel-mouth,
there is not the least doubt he would have attacked him despite the
explosive he held, and in that case both would have perished together;
but the thought that his four friends would be destroyed also had
deterred the Ayuti from this course.
Nearer drew the _Seal,_ and ere long the explorers saw with
surprise that her deck was crowded with figures. The truth burst upon
them with appalling suddenness. _Their vessel was in the hands of
the wolf-men!_
The swimming priest noted the fact quite as soon as they did, and
altered his course a little to intercept the slowly-moving boat. Soon
he was alongside, and the willing hands of his savages quickly hauled
him aboard.
A groan burst from Mervyn’s lips. Nordhu was winning all along
the line.
“What have they done with Garth?” Wilson cried, with a break in
his voice.
“Heaven knows!” snapped Haverly savagely; “that darned priest has
put us in a tight corner. Here we are, with never a toothpick among
us, and a boatload of niggers coming ashore in a brace of shakes.”
“They mean to beach her, by the look of things,” cried Seymour;
then, turning, he whispered something to the Ayuti, who nodded
affirmatively.
Three minutes later the _Seal_ came ashore with a rush, and
buried her nose in the sand. Ere her plates had ceased to quiver,
Chenobi and the baronet swung themselves aboard, and were raging along
the deck with no weapons but their mailed fists.
This state of things did not last long, however. Quickly they
wrenched the spears from the hands of two of their enemies, and fell
to with these weapons with a fury born of desperation. On their
efforts, they knew, depended not alone their own lives but those of
their friends, who, in their entirely defenceless condition, would
fall an easy prey to the wolf-men.
So they raged up and down the deck amid that shrieking mob of
savages, cutting and stabbing with merciless vigour. One thing puzzled
them: Nordhu was nowhere visible, and to his absence they doubtless
owed the halfhearted resistance which they encountered.
The baronet fought with a definite object--to break his way
through to the turret, around which the wolf-men were clustered the
thickest, and obtain possession of a rifle. With one in his hands he
knew he could quickly drive the wolfish horde from the vessel’s deck,
so he strained every nerve to accomplish his purpose.
And nobly did the king second his efforts.
Back and forth they stamped and drove, yet ever pressing on
towards their goal; ever struggling towards the open door of the
wheelhouse.
They reached it at length. A final rush, a last savage charge,
and they were through the ring of savages, within the shelter of the
turret. A moment’s breathing space they allowed themselves, then
Seymour snatched down the elephant gun, which still rested, loaded, on
its rack, and fired both barrels into the surging mass of savagery
without the doorway. Two dropped, and the rest, with a terror-stricken
cry, fell back hastily.
Quick as thought, the baronet whipped up a couple of loaded
revolvers, and sallied forth, determined to complete the discomfiture
of the enemy. Not to be outdone, Chenobi cast his eyes round for a
more serviceable weapon than his spear, finding what he sought at last
in an axe. Gripping this, he followed his friend, and, shouting his
thunderous war-cry, hurled himself into the midst of his foes.
His attack was the last straw. Unable, with their ignorant
brains, to comprehend the apparently invulnerable nature of their two
foes; awed, moreover, by the baronet’s firearms, the wolf-men turned,
leapt the rail, and dashed across the beach in a frenzy of fear, with
the hounds snarling savagely at their heels.
Scarcely had the last left the deck, ere the scientist and his
two friends were aboard.
“It was magnificent!” Mervyn exclaimed, “magnificent! Never have
I witnessed such a fight. You should have been a soldier,
Seymour.”
The baronet laughed as he removed his heavy helmet, and mopped
his brow with a handkerchief borrowed from the Yankee.
“The War Office might object to my fighting in chain mail,” he
remarked. “Steady there!”--as Wilson made a move for the
turret--“Nordhu must be below there somewhere. We must go slow,
or the brute will be blowing the boat up.”
“But he may be murdering Garth,” the engineer cried, “while we
stand here talking.”
At that moment the priest appeared at the door of the wheelhouse.
Probably the cessation of hostilities had brought him on deck; but he
had evidently never expected to see the vessel in possession of the
men whom he had left without weapons upon the beach. No doubt he
thought his savages would be able to repel all attacks of the unarmed
white strangers and their gigantic friend. How bitter was his chagrin,
the expression of his face showed. Even then, however, trapped though
he appeared to be, he made one last bid for life.
Like a flash he darted across the deck, no trace of a limp
apparent in his movements. Past Haverly and Mervyn--both of whom
were standing somewhat apart from the rest--he dashed; but
unwilling to let him escape, the scientist grabbed at his robe. Like
the wolf he was at heart, Nordhu swung round, and a weapon flashed
from beneath his mantle.
With a hoarse cry of warning, the Yankee leapt forward. The next
instant the report of a revolver rang out, and Haverly dropped with a
sob, the blood welling up from a wound in his breast.
The priest, with diabolical cunning, had discovered the secret of
the fire-weapons, and had used it to some purpose. But it was his last
effort. His time had come!
With a bound Chenobi was upon him; his weapon was hurled over the
rail, and the mailed hand of the Ayuti gripped his neck. An effort of
the king’s mighty muscles, hardened to steel by the lust for vengeance
which gripped him, and the head of the priest was bent backward. A
scream of agony burst from Nordhu’s lips, but the merciless pressure
was continued until, like a rotten stick, his neck snapped, and he
dropped lifeless to the deck.
Chenobi’s brother was avenged!
But though the priest was dead, his fell work remained. The
plucky American, who had saved Mervyn’s life by risking his own, lay
bleeding and unconscious where he had fallen, and at first glance
there seemed little hope of his recovery. Badly wounded he was,
without a doubt, whether mortally or not remained to be seen.
Tenderly they carried him below, inwardly cursing the dead priest
who had brought him to the gates of death. Even their fear for the
missing inventor was swallowed up by that for Haverly.
They could not bear to think of losing their cheery friend, their
comrade in so many dangers, and anxiously they awaited the result of
the scientist’s examination.
“Leave me a while,” the scientist murmured brokenly at length,
and at that the three stole forth, moving silent as spectres to the
engine-room, to look for Garth.
The Ayuti noted everything with wonder: the rich carpet which
covered the floor of the corridor; the numerous cabins on either side,
of the furniture of which he could catch a glimpse through the partly
open doors.
All had been rifled by the savages. Drawers and chests had been
overthrown, lockers burst open, and their contents strewn about the
floors. The usual spick-and-span condition of the boat, due to the
care of the inventor, was conspicuous by its absence.
It was with a dread gripping their hearts as to what they should
find within, that they opened the engine-room door, and at first their
worst fears seemed realised.
Beside his engines, motionless as the gleaming cranks themselves,
lay Garth, his head in a puddle of rapidly-congealing blood. With a
low, fearful cry, Wilson flung himself down beside his friend,
anxiously feeling for the beating of his heart.
“Thank God!” he muttered at last, “he lives!” and, without
wasting further words, set to work to restore the unconscious man.
Half an hour passed ere Garth came round, and then so weak was he
from loss of blood, that the engineer insisted on him retiring at once
to his berth. Only when he was sleeping soundly did the comrades
return to the cabin where Haverly lay.
With their eyes asking the question they dared not put into
words, they approached the professor, who still watched beside his
patient; and surely, never was prisoner more glad to receive reprieve,
than they to hear Mervyn’s verdict: “He will live.”
Almost Seymour leapt for joy as he heard the words; but,
remembering in time the need for absolute quiet, he restrained
himself, and returned with Chenobi to the deck, there to use his
superfluous energy in casting overboard the carcases of the slain
wolf-men and their priest. That done, he and the engineer turned their
attention to getting the _Seal_ afloat again, as while she
remained ashore they were exposed to the constant danger of an attack
by the savages; and this, while Haverly’s condition was so serious,
they wished to avoid, if possible.
By taking the tide at its flood, they managed to effect their
purpose, their actions being keenly watched by the Ayuti. Then, when
the vessel was once more in her natural element, they deemed
themselves more secure.
“Now to get out of this mail,” said Seymour; “it’s a little too
heavy for general use, though very handy in a scrap. Wilson, just keep
your weather eye lifting on deck here, while I get into some decent
togs.”
Presently the baronet was once more decently clothed, rejoicing
in the luxury of clean linen. As for the king, he had perforce to be
content with his mail suit, Seymour’s wardrobe containing nothing that
would fit his huge limbs, which fact, however, did not inconvenience
Chenobi in the least.
Their first meal aboard the recovered vessel was one they never
forgot. Wilson, ever an adept at the culinary art, had surpassed
himself. The saloon table literally groaned beneath the weight of good
things; it sparkled with cut-glass and silver. At its head sat the
grey-haired scientist, who had left his patient sleeping easily under
the influence of a soothing draught. On his right hand sat Seymour and
the Ayuti, the latter a strange-looking figure in his armour, amongst
the luxurious modern furnishings of the saloon. The electric light
gleamed and flashed on his mail at every movement he made, and his
jewel, the insignia of his royal rank, which he had not removed,
seemed almost to rival in brilliance the glare of the great arc lamp
set in the ceiling above.
Everything was, of course, very strange to him. Food, vessels,
and cutlery were alike unknown to him; yet, realising he must conform
to the habits of his new-found friends, if he would dwell with them in
their upper world, he laid aside his gauntlets, and closely followed
the example of Seymour.
On Mervyn’s left sat Wilson, his eyes aglow with delight at being
once more aboard his beloved vessel. Judging that the wolf-men were
not likely to make another attack for some time, the lad had decided
to let the _Seal_ take care of herself for a time, merely locking
the turret door as a precaution.
So the glasses clinked merrily, and the saloon rang with subdued
laughter as the meal went on.
Towards the end, Mervyn rose.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “we shall all be truly sorry to leave the
vessel that has served us so well and faithfully. She has become to us
as a dear friend; yet to effect our escape from this underworld, it
will be necessary for us to desert her. We shall have to remain aboard
awhile, until Haverly is sufficiently recovered to undertake the
journey to the crater; then we must say good-bye to the
_Seal.”_
“We must sink her before we start inland,” said Seymour. “I
should not like to think of the old craft being in the hands of the
wolf-men. How long do you think it will be before Silas is anything
like himself again?”
“I cannot tell,” returned the scientist, huskily. “He has had a
very narrow escape from death, but I do not doubt that his splendid
constitution will enable him to get about ere long. I shall be
eternally in his debt: but for his heroic sacrifice, I should have
fallen victim to Nordhu’s murderous hate.”
“I have a toast to propose,” he continued, after a few moments’
silence, filling his glass as he spoke, “To our American friend: may
he speedily be restored to his usual health!”
While they drank to this, there came a scampering of feet upon
the deck overhead, succeeded by a chorus of barks. The hounds,
returned from the chase of the savages, had swum out to the vessel,
and were clamouring for admittance at the turret door.