Time passed on, and there was no change in the state of things. Still an
unclouded sun--still the deep, intense blue sky--winds on the earth but
no moisture; and the whole frame of nature seemed crumbling into chaos.
Paulett felt the strife with fate to be unequal indeed, and could
scarcely comprehend that he and his family were truly survivors amid
such destruction; but he resolved not to give in, while the means
remained to him, but to fight the fight out till overpowered by the
material universe. He told Ellen that they must move to some place
where they might hope to find more diamonds, and Ellen agreed--wishing
with Paulett that the strife were over and the last agony suffered, and
that they were among the free and disembodied spirits. London was their
object; for there they might hope to find most of the materials of what
was now the most precious of all things, water; and providing as well as
they could for their necessities by the way, they quitted the cavern,
and set off on their journey.
First came the father, carrying the little Alice in his arms; the boy
held his mother by the hand; and they followed Paulett on his path.
There was the delicate woman, the mother of all that remained alive of
the human race, setting out on the desert, which she remembered, but a
few years before, the scene of luxury and abundance. On her shoulder she
carried a burthen containing corn for their sustenance; and the brave
boy took his share by bearing the jar of water which had been provided
for their support on the journey; and thus the last family of mankind
set out on their pilgrimage over the desolated earth. The unmitigated
sun had made great rents in the sides of the hills, and, together with
the wind, had broken up the roads, between which and the parched fields
there was scarcely now any difference. Where there had been inclosures
and hedges, the withered sticks had in most places yielded to the winds,
and were scattered about the spot where they had stood. Here and there
were the marks of fire, which had run along the country till some
interval of previous desolation had stopped it; and where this had been
the case, the black unsightly remains lay strewn over the surface, one
further step advanced in dissolution than the dead world around. There
was no want of habitations for their nightly shelter. Palaces and
cottages, all alike, were open; all alike were silent and tenantless
habitations. They might choose where they would. And the first day they
did not go far, for Ellen and her children, with stout hearts, had not
bodily strength for great fatigue, and were unused to the strong
exertion they were now compelled to make. Towards evening, therefore,
when they reached a house with which Paulett and Ellen had once been
familiar, they determined to rest there for the night. They pushed open
the gates, which still swung on their hinges, and which admitted them to
what had been a park, filled once with trees, and bathed with waters. A
large wood covered the hill which rose on one side, and which now, under
a summer sun, stood perfectly bare, and all of one uniform grey colour
as far as the view extended. On the other side, the eye looked over a
tract of country varied with hill and dale, but desolate of every colour
that used to shine forth in light and shade. The setting sun shone among
the leafless branches, casting long brilliant rays of light. The
unclouded sky met the sparkling earth, and both glittered with unnatural
brilliancy. To Paulett and Ellen, every thing spoke of desolation and
death; and an exclamation escaped Ellen, in a low tone, that it was a
piteous and horrible spectacle. But Charles, standing still at their
side as they looked on the scene, cried it was beautiful; the colours of
the sun were so splendid on the fine white trees, and one could see so
far, and every thing was so white and shining on the earth. The parents
felt that ideas were ceasing to be in common between the last and the
first members of the old and the new generation; and far from
contradicting their boy, they tried to partake his pleasure and enter
into his impressions. They moved on up to the old familiar door and
entered the open silent hall, where they remembered the ceremonies and
the courtesies of life. They chose among the rooms which had been those
of friends, and recognised familiar objects of their everyday existence.
It was a conceit of Paulett's, for which he smiled at himself, to wind
up the clock in the hall, and set it to tell out the time again for
another week. There were musical instruments in a room adjoining, and
over one of these Ellen timidly passed her fingers. It was out of tune,
and the sounds, though sweet in themselves, all jarred with one another.
"That's the last music of the world, perhaps," said Ellen; "and all
discord too."
They found some small store of corn in one of the rooms; they prepared
and ate it, and lay down to sleep; forgetting in fatigue all their
dismal feelings, and in their dreams seeing the old state of things and
dead persons--nay, a dead world--without wondering that they were come
to life again. All the days of their journey wore an uniform character;
and they kept on and on through waste and ruin, glad to leave the
country behind them, and expecting, as some relief, the aspect of
streets and a town. They halted, at length, within a few miles of
London, and lay down to rest, thankful to be so near their bourne; for
they had suffered as much fatigue as they could well bear, and their
stock of diamonds was waxing very low and needed replenishment. Paulett
continued busy preparing water from part of those that remained, after
his wife and children were asleep. His own frame scarcely felt the
exertion of the journey, and he was full of the thoughts with which the
approaching sight of what had been once the great metropolis filled him.
The vast untenanted dwelling-place, the solitude of the habitation of
crowds, the absence of mind and talent from the scene they had so
filled; all these things excited his feelings, and gaining ground in the
solitude of the night he felt at last that he could not willingly delay
his first meeting with the bereaved city, and that he should be pleased
to have an opportunity of indulging alone the highly-wrought emotion
with which he expected the sight of it. Accordingly, when the light
began to break, he wrote word to Ellen that she should wait for him a
few hours, and that he would be back again in that time to lead her and
the children to their journey's end; and then, softly leaving the house,
set forward eagerly on his way.
It was evening before he returned. He came in pale and excited; he took
his children in his arms as usual, and seemed like one upon whom a thing
which he has seen has made a deep impression, but who either doubts the
power of words to convey the same impression, or thinks that he himself
is over-excited by it.
"Ellen," he said at last, "London is burned to the ground."
The sudden flush on her face, and her clasped hands, while she spoke
not, showed that the event touched her, too, as deeply as him; and then
he went on freely--
"Oh, Ellen! if you had seen it! It stands there, all in ruins--the whole
city in ruins! It has been the work of some great storm which fired it
when all were gone or dead; for there has been no pulling down, no
pillage, no aid, no attempt to stop the fire! All the palaces, all the
museums, all the stores of learning and art, the streets, the crowded
houses; they are gone, Ellen--they are all gone!"
His wife had never before in all their misery seen him so deeply
moved--so nearly overpowered by any thing that had occurred. His
excitement communicated itself to her, and she caught the full bearing
of his narration. She felt for the long ages of story, and the monuments
of human skill, buried in the great city. Irretrievable ruin! The work
which men, and years, and glowing knowledge, had slowly raised up, all
dead, all annihilated so suddenly. They sat talking of it very long
before Ellen said,
"And what must _we_ do now, Paulett?"
"We must go on, Ellen; we must travel further. The rest we hoped for is
destroyed with the city, and we must press forward if we are to save our
lives."
"That seems less and less possible," said Ellen; "and in all this
destruction why should we be preserved?"
"Perhaps because we have as yet avoided the stroke, by using all our
human skill; perhaps because a new race is to spring from us, who shall
reign in another mighty London! Alas, London!--alas, the great city!"
Several times during the night Ellen heard Paulett murmur to himself
words of lament over the fallen city; and when he slept, his rest was
agitated, and his frame seemed trembling under the emotions of the day.
It was resolved that Ellen should rest a little while in their present
habitation, before undertaking the toils of further travel. They
intended to make for the coast, sure of a dry channel to the opposite
shore, and hoping to reach some of the great continental towns before
their store of diamonds should be utterly exhausted. In the meantime,
Paulett was bent upon taking his boy through the ruins of London, and
impressing upon him the memory of the place, and its great events. So
the next day, leaving Ellen and the little Alice together, he and
Charles began their pilgrimage through the mighty ruins. The event must
have occurred very many months ago, for the ruins were perfectly cold,
and the winds had toppled down the walls of all the more fragile
buildings; so that the streets lay in confusion over one another, and it
was impossible, except by other marks, to recognise the localities.
Paulett and Charles clambered over the fallen walls, and would have been
bewildered among heaps of masonry, and houses shaken from their base and
blackened by fire--only that over the desolate prospect they saw, and
Paulett marked the bearings of St Paul's, the chief part of whose dome
rose high in the air, though a huge rent let the daylight through it,
and threatened a speedy fall. There was here and there a spire, rising
perfect over the ruins; there were remains of Whitehall, strong though
blackened, seen over a long view of prostrate streets; and in the
distance beyond, fragments of Westminster Abbey showed themselves in the
sunlight, though defaced and crumbled, as if the frame had been too
ancient to resist the fire. Guided by these landmarks, Paulett traced
out the plan of the city, and by degrees recognised where the great
streets had run, where the palaces had stood, where the river had
flowed. And all was silent, all an absolute stillness, where there had
been such ceaseless voices, and sounds of life; the libraries were
burned, the statues calcined, the museums in ashes; the mind of man,
which triumphs over the body, had here been subdued by matter, and left
no trace of itself.
"Oh! London, London! So much talent, so much glory and beauty; such
mighty hearts, such mighty works; such ages of story--all buried in one
black mass! Piteous spectacle!" cried Paulett, striking his breast, and
stretching forth his arms over the skeleton of what was once a sovereign
in the world.
He took his son by the hand, and led him over the confused masses,
telling him as they went along what were the ruins by which they passed.
"This great heap of building which has fallen into a square, must be the
palace of our kings. It is that St James's, where they dwelt till nobler
buildings rose with the improving times. See here, Charles--there is
less ruin here. This opener space was park and garden; and time has been
that I have heard the buzz of men filling all this place, when the
sovereigns came to hold their courts in that building. I think that this
dreadful fire must have taken place before life was quite extinct; for
see, there are heaps of bones here, as though men had fled together to
avoid it; and it either overtook them with long tongues of fire, such as
a burning city would send forth, or smothered them before they could
escape, with its smoke. Ha! I see almost a palace there--a wonder of
modern art. It is the house I once saw, and only once, for it was built
during the years of the great drought."
"Who could build in those days, father?" said Charles; "I thought no one
had any heart for doing more than we do, and that is but just keeping
ourselves alive."
"Nay, it was very long before the persuasion came that those were the
last days. We all believed that rain would come again and restore the
earth to its old order, and whoever possessed the means, builded and
projected still. You may see this magnificent place suffered violence
before the fire; for its ornaments are torn from the walls, and its
statues mutilated by other means than the bare fall. It was the property
of a man called Jephcot, who, when the water began to fail, contrived
means to bring it into London from great distances, and thus to secure a
supply when the ordinary means were useless. He kept his contrivance
secret, and supplied the city when other men's resources were exhausted;
and he grew exceedingly rich by this exercise of his ingenuity, and
built himself the palace which you see there. But when the failure of
water amounted to absolute famine, the rich people naturally were the
last who wanted; they gave his price, and he supplied them before he
would supply others who had no money to bring. This was endured with
murmurs, which might have gone on a little longer, had not Jephcot, in
the midst of this distress, given a banquet to the great people of
London.
"It was in the second year of the drought, when little thinking what the
end was to be, we all continued to live, as far as possible, as we had
done before. I was in London where the parliament was then sitting, and
among others I was invited to this house, and still remember the scene
of luxury and profusion of these bare rooms. In the midst of the noise
of a crowded assembly, some of us heard sounds outside, which were such
as you will never hear, even if you live--sounds of the feet and voices
of thousands of human beings. Among this tumult, we began to distinguish
individual voices, chiefly those of women, crying out, "water!" We paid
little attention, and those who did, said the police and soldiers were
called out and would prevent violence; but before long it was whispered
that these forces, pressed by extreme want, and seeing their families
perishing, had joined the mob, and were exciting violence. There fell a
silence over all the assembly; every one left the tables, and gathered
together to hear and to consult: and while we did so, there came an
assault on the front of the house, and the voices of the populace all
broke out at once into shouting. They were irresistible; they forced
their way in, and came pouring up the staircase; they uttered cries of
vengeance for imaginary wrongs, saying that the waters of London had
been kept for the rich, and that there was abundance for both rich and
poor, and threatened the lives of Jephcot and his family, even more
eagerly than they demanded water. He tried to address them, but they
caught him down from the head of the staircase where he stood, and flung
him at once over the marble banisters. This was the signal for attack on
all sides. We rushed forward to rescue his body and revenge him, they to
possess themselves of the treasure they so much coveted. Of course we
were overpowered, for we were one to fifty; and that night there fell a
hundred of the nobles of England. The women were respected by the mob,
and except one lady who was shot accidentally, and another who saw her
son fall, and stood over him till he ceased to breathe, then fell
wounded and dying herself, all escaped. Your mother was not there. When
our party was quite vanquished, I found myself in the midst of the mob,
bleeding to death as I thought; but they flung me on one side, and I
recovered. They pulled the house to the ground, after they had satiated
themselves with drinking. And that was the first great calamity which
overthrew the government of the country."
"And how did that come about, father?" said Charles, eagerly holding him
by the hand, and sharing his excitement.
Paulett led him on, telling him, at one ruined monument after another,
what steps had been taken at each, in the destruction of the order of
things. They came to the dry channel of the Thames, a deep and wide
trench, whose bottom showed objects that had lain there when the waters
flowed above, and which would once have been as precious as now they
were unregarded. Here as a bridge from side to side; and a little way
above, stood part of the walls of a noble building, partly black with
smoke, partly white with the polish and beauty of stones newly built
together.
"These are the Houses of Parliament," said Paulett, "the work of many
years, which were to replace those burned in 1834. See how beautiful
they were, what excellent design, what exquisite finish; how strong and
stable, to last for a thousand ages, and to crown the river which then
flowed in this dusty channel. When matters were come almost to the
worst, and there were convulsions all over the country in consequence of
the famine, the queen, for the first time, came to these houses to open
the last parliament that ever assembled. There were no beasts of
burthen left alive in the country; it had been found impossible to
appropriate water enough to those which had been reserved in the royal
stables; and the queen, surrounded by a certain number of the court,
walked along yonder street to the House. The sight of so young a woman,
and so great a sovereign, thus leveled by physical necessity with the
meanest, excited some of the old enthusiasm with which she used to be
greeted: the populace themselves, with their squalid faces, and in their
extreme misery, greeted her; but the greatest feeling was aroused among
the nobles and gentry who surrounded her, and who seemed to make a point
of offering more homage, the less outer circumstances commanded it.
There was assembled in the House all that remained alive of the nobles
of England, and the sovereign; and they proposed to deliberate upon the
possibility of any means remaining to provide water. But a demagogue of
the people, Matthison by name, roused their fury and their madness, and
they burst in, accusing their superiors of their calamities. The queen's
life was in danger;--and then occurred a gallant action, which is worthy
to live if man lives. A Churchill, a descendant of that Marlborough who
fought Blenheim, came to the hall whither they had broken in, and
required in the queen's name to know what they wanted. He meant to gain
time; for other nobles had effected an exit at a private door for her,
and were hurrying her away to a place of security, till she could escape
from England. They answered Churchill, that water was monopolized; that
Matthison must be minister; that they must speak to the queen face to
face, and have her hostage for the accomplishment of what they wished.
Churchill pretended to deliberate for an instant with some one in the
adjoining chamber; and then returning, said, 'If the queen do not speak
with you in ten minutes, you may tear me in pieces.' Some of the mob
cried that he was saying this to give her time to escape. Others said,
if it were so, he should assuredly suffer the penalty. Churchill
answered nothing, only smiled; and then the majority said he could not
be so foolhardy, and they would grant the queen ten minutes.
"The time passed, and Matthison eagerly cried, 'The time is gone, yet we
don't see the queen.'
"'Then tear me in pieces,' said Churchill; and the mob, finding their
prey had escaped, did so indeed; the gallant man falling where he stood,
and not another word came from his lips."
"The brave man!" cried Charles; "the good man! Were there many such
brave, good men in the old world, father?"
"Ay, that there were," said Paulett; "many a glorious one; some known
and some unknown, who did things which made one know one's-self a
glorious, an immortal creature. See there that ruined abbey--there lie
the ashes of brave and good; these are their crumbled monuments--'that
fane where fame is A spectral resident!' Alas, there is no fame, no name
left!"
Paulett and Charles went down among the ruins of the abbey, and there,
amidst the fallen stones and broken aisles, saw monumental marbles, old
known names, and funeral inscriptions, contrasting strongly by their
quiet character with the confusion around.
"Never forget them, Charles," said Paulett. "These are names which the
world has trembled at, and which are now like to be such as those before
the Flood, barbarous to those who are building up a new order of things,
and known merely as a barren catalogue of names. Yet, if you live,
remember Edward the king here; remember the Black Prince; remember the
days and heroes of Elizabeth; remember the poetry and the romance of the
old world."
"Ay, father, and I'll remember the great name of him who taught you to
print, and of Wicliffe the reformer, and of the man who gave you the
steam-engine."
Paulett smiled and sighed; he felt that his own ideas of things heroic
were as much contrasted with those of Charles, as their notions of the
beautiful. But he thought not to stem the stream.
"See here," he said, pointing to some new monuments, which, like the
old, were cracked by fire; "there were many brave and good actions
done, and one of those who did best was laid here. He was a clergyman,
his name Host, and during the pestilence which came on in the fourth
year, he was more like an inspired messenger of good than any mortal
creature. You must know, Charles, that the teachers of religion at this
time were greatly divided among themselves, and they had led a great
portion of the lay world into their disputes. One party, in an age of
reasoning, and when nothing in science was taken upon trust, gave up
their reason altogether, and followed authority as blindly as they
could--still, however, feeling the influence of the age; for they would
argue upon the existence or non-existence of authority, and would fit it
unconsciously each man to his own conceit. Indeed, superstition was the
disease of the age, and while the healthy part of the community employed
and enjoyed the freest use of their reason, this same infirmity appeared
among other people in other forms; so that some men took up the notion
that the human mind might act independently of sense, and see without
eyes, and know intuitively what existed at a distance. Other parties,
among professors of religion, allowed nothing in religion that they
allowed daily in the evidence of other matters. They gave no weight to
research, and thought, about religious facts; and dreamed that each one
among themselves gained a kind of spiritual knowledge by inspiration. It
was a time of conceits and quackery; but there was a better spirit
abroad, of which this good man Host was the representative. He began in
the pestilence, and went to all houses indifferently, whether they were
princes or peasants; and there was a common-sense in what he did and
said, a universal character in his religion, which struck men in these
evil days. They drew nearer to each other under his influence; and I
recollect this great building thronged in one of the last months that
men continued here, with a congregation of all orders and all divisions
of opinion, who met to pray together, and listen to Host. He stood
yonder, Charles, as nearly there, I think, as I can tell from the ruins;
he was rapt by his own discourse, and his face was as the face of an
angel. And truly three days after, he was dead; and here they buried
him--the last sound of the organ, the last service of this church, being
for him. Here is his name still on the tombstone--
'Host.
Pio. dilecto. beato.
Populus miserrimus.'"
Charles's memory was deeply impressed with this history, and he followed
his father, much engrossed and animated by what he had heard. Not so
Paulett; for the ruins of London occupied his mind, and filled him with
deep pity and regret for the fair world destroyed: and so they returned
to their temporary habitation, the father sorrowful, the son exulting;
one full of the old world, one dreaming great actions for the new.
After another day's rest, the sole surviving family of mankind set forth
again on their pilgrimage. Paulett again carried his Alice, and Ellen
and Charles walked hand in hand with such a basket of necessaries as
they could support. Paulett secured about his person a large packet of
diamonds, collected in palaces and noble dwellings near London, and the
apparatus he required for transmuting them into water; and searching for
and finding the remains of the railroad to the coast, at Dover, they
kept on in that track, which, from its evenness, offered facility to
their journey. But in several places it had been purposely broken up,
during the commotions which preceded the final triumph of the drought,
and the tunnel near Folkestone had fallen in the middle from want of the
necessary attention to the masonry. These difficulties seemed harder to
bear than those which they had met with in the beginning of their
pilgrimage, when their hopes of reaching a certain bourne were more
secure. The destruction of London had thrown a deep gloom over all their
expectations; and besides that help was removed to a much greater
distance, they could not but feel it very probable that a similar fate
might have befallen the other places they looked to. Nevertheless, none
of them murmured. They went steadfastly though sadly on; and the two
children, with less knowledge of what was to be feared, were encouraged
by their parents whenever they broke into a merrier strain. Alice was
the happiest of the party, for she knew least. She was the one who
suffered least also; for every one spared her suffering, and contrived
that what remained on earth of luxury should be hers. She had the first
draught of water; she was carried on her father's shoulder; she ran to
find pebbles, and whatever shone and glittered on their path; and when
the others were silent, they heard with joy her infant voice singing,
without words like a bird, in a covered tone, as they got wearily over
mile by mile of their way. Ellen suffered most, though Paulett tried, by
all means that remained, to lighten her fatigue and cheer her spirit.
She bore up steadfastly; but her frame was slight, and her feelings were
oppressed by the fearful aspect of things around her. They made a deep
and deeper impression, and she was fain to look steadfastly on the faces
of the few living, to recover from the effects of such universal death.
Paulett himself was shaken more than he knew, though he was as energetic
as ever; but Charles was vigorous and advanced beyond his years, and
took more than his share in aiding and in comforting. They came at last
to what had been sea-coast, and to that part of the road which ran along
the face of the cliff overlooking the sea; and here they paused, and
gazed upon the wild and strange view before them. Where the sea had
stretched all glorious in motion, expanse, and colour, there was now a
deep valley, the bottom of which was rough with rocks, black for the
most part, but in places glittering with the white salt from which the
water had evaporated, and which the winds had rolled together. Further
out from the coast, where the sea had been deepest, there seemed tracks
of sand; and far away over this newly exposed desert, rose other hills,
clearly seen through the unclouded atmosphere, and which they knew to be
the rocks of France. And if they should arrive there, what was the hope
they offered? Scarce any. Nothing but more pilgrimage, further
wandering. Paulett and Ellen sat apart, while the children lay sleeping
side by side, for an hour or two, at this point of their journey, and
talked over the desolation before them.
"Yet," said Paulett, "the more terrible is the appearance which material
things put on, the greater I feel the triumph of the spirit to be. The
worse it looks, the more immortal I feel; and when a perishing world
shows itself most perishable, I exult most that you and I, Ellen, have
borne it so far."
"Yes, I am glad too," said Ellen; "your strength strengthens me. In the
midst of this desolation the mind rises, for an hour at least, higher
perhaps than it would have ever done if we had been prosperous."
"Yet we might have used our prosperity to the same good end," said
Paulett. "It is not necessary to be miserable in order to be noble.
Millions have died before us, some in agony, some before the struggle
began; some hardly, some at ease: they had all their chances; all had
their occasions of virtue, if they used them; and some used them, some
failed: ours is not over yet; we have to struggle on still; and let us
do it, dear Ellen, and be ready for the good day when we too may be
allowed to die." And thus talking for a while, they rested themselves in
sight of the desert they had to traverse; then with renewed strength and
steadfast resolution, when the children woke, descended the cliffs, and
prepared to trace out a path through what had been the bottom of the
sea. The first part of the journey was infinitely difficult: the rocks
over which foot of man had never passed; the abrupt precipices over
which had flowed the even surface of the ocean, and then the height to
climb again, again to find themselves on ledges and shelves of
rocks--all these seemed at times hardly passable impediments. And when
they got to a distance from what had been the shore, the unnatural place
where they found themselves pressed upon the imagination. There was a
plain of sand, about which at irregular distances rose rocks, which,
north and south, stretched out beyond the reach of the eye; and this
sand, which had been at such a depth that it never felt the influence
of the waves, was covered in places with shells, the inhabitants of
which had perished when the waters gradually dried away. There lay mixed
with these some skeletons of fishes; here a huge heap, and there small
bones which looked less terrible; and masses of sea-weed, dried and
colourless, under which, as it seemed, the creeping things of the ocean
had sheltered for a while, and some had crawled to the surface when
about to perish. But it was not only the brute creation which had died
here: there was in the middle a pile of rocks, on one side of which they
came suddenly to a pit, so deep and dark that they perceived no bottom;
and here probably there had been seawater longer than elsewhere, for
there were human bones about it, and skulls of men, and human garbs,
which the sun had faded, but which were not disturbed by waves. There
was a cord and a metal jar attached to it, for lowering into the pit;
but Paulett, as he looked at the attitudes of the remaining skeletons,
and observed how they seemed distorted in death, fancied that they must
have brought up either poisoned water, or waters so intensely salt as to
drive them mad with the additional thirst; and that some had died on the
instant, some had lingered, some had sought to succour others, and
yielded sooner or later to the same influence. Ellen and he would not
dwell on the sight after the first contemplation of it; they passed on,
shuddering, and made toward the great wall of rock which they saw rising
to the south, and which must be their way to the land of France. But
before they reached it the sun began to decline, and without light it
was in vain to attempt to seek a path. There was a wind keener than they
had felt of late, which came from the west, and the little Alice pressed
on her father's bosom to shield her from it. He wrapped her closer in a
cloak, and they resolved to put themselves under the shelter of the
first rock they reached, and pass the night in the channel of the sea.
They pressed on, and found at last the place they sought; a cliff which
must once have raised its head above the waves, and which now stood like
some vast palace wall, bare and huge, upon the ocean sand. Screened from
the wind, they collected an abundance of the dried vegetation of the
sea, partly for warmth and to roast their corn, partly for Paulett to
dissolve some of the diamonds into water; and here they rested, here
they slept, many fathoms below that level over which navies used to
sail. At times during the night Paulett fancied, when the wind abated,
that he heard a sound like thunder, or like what used to be the rushing
of a distant torrent; and occasionally he thought he felt a vibration in
the earth as if it were shaken by some moving body. The region he was in
was so strange that he knew not what might be here, or what about to
happen; the sounds so imperfect that he tormented himself to be sure of
them, or to be sure they were not; and when the time for action came he
was beginning to disbelieve them altogether; but Alice brought all back
again by saying, "My rock" (for her cradle was a rock) "shook my head,
father." The child could explain herself no further; but the vibration
he had fancied seemed to be what she had felt. And now they climbed
again, and again descended weary rock after rock; it was a strange
chaos, which the tides had swept and moulded, and which had in places
risen to the surface, and caused the wreck of many a vessel. Fragments
of these lay under the rocks they had split upon, but the wandering
family had no thoughts for them; wonder and pity had been exhausted
among exciting and terrific scenes. They thought only of forcing their
way over the rocks, and feared to think how much of this they had to
traverse before they should come to what had been the shore, and to
towns.
Suddenly, as they toiled forward, Paulett said in a low voice to Ellen,
"Don't you hear it?"
"I have heard it a long time," said Ellen in the same tone; and Charles
stopping as well as they, said, "Father, what is that?"
"I can't tell, my boy," said Paulett, listening.
"Water?" asked Ellen.
Paulett shook his head, yet they all pressed forward, and there grew a
thundering sullen sound. There was a valley and a ridge of rock before
them, and they had to clamber first down the rugged precipice they were
upon, then to cross the valley, and then to struggle up the opposite
side, a trembling motion growing perceptible as they advanced, before
they stood on a sort of broad ledge, which they perceived at the angles
that jutted out, went down straight into a depth, and opposite which was
another broad table-land of rock, between which and that they were upon
was a rent, wider and narrower in various parts, and running along as
far as they could see to right and left. Paulett rushed on to the brink,
and stood looking. He put his hand out to keep Ellen back when he heard
her close behind; but she also sprang to the edge, and when she had seen
turned to catch Charles in her arms. Rushing past was a torrent, but not
water. It was dark, thick, pitchy; it sent up hot steams to the edge: it
was one of the secrets of nature, laid bare when the ocean was taken
away. Fire seemed to be at work below, for occasionally it would boil
with more violence, and rush on with an increased, increasing noise,
then sullenly fall back to the first gloomy sound. It bewildered the
sense; and though it could threaten no more than death, yet it was death
with so many horrors around it, that the body and mind both shrank from
it. How was it possible, too, to cross it? Yet their way lay over it;
for behind was certain destruction, and before it was not yet proved
impossible that they might find the element of water. Paulett felt that
it would not do to linger on the brink; he drew his family away from the
sight, and he himself went up and down to find some narrower place, and
some means by which to make a bridge over the abyss; and it was not till
their assistance could avail him that he returned for them, and brought
them to the place where he hoped to get over. It was a fearful point,
for in order to reach a space narrow enough to have a chance of throwing
a plank over, it was necessary to go down the broken side of the
precipice some twenty feet, and there, high above the seething lava, to
cross on such a piece of wood as could be got to span the abyss, and
then clamber up the rugged opposite side. Paulett had been down to the
point he selected, and had got timber, which a wrecked vessel had
supplied, to the edge, so that Ellen and Charles might push a plank down
to him, and he might try, at least, to cast it to the opposite bank. His
head was steady, his hand strong; no one of them spoke a word while he
stood below, steadying himself to receive the plank. Ellen's weak arm
grew powerful; her wit was ready with expedients, to aid him in this
necessity. Her frame and spirit were strung to the very uttermost, and
she was brave and silent, doing all that could be done. No word was
spoken till Paulett said, "I have done it;" and Ellen and Charles had
seen him place the plank, and secure it on his own side of the abyss
with stones. Then they held their breath, beholding him cross it; but
his firm foot carried him safely, and he heaped stones on the other side
also. He came over again, sprang up the side, and now smiled and spoke.
"After all it is but a mountain torrent, Ellen," he said, "and the water
would have destroyed us like yonder seething flood; yet we have crossed
many a one and feared nothing. Now Charles shall go over; then Alice,
and he shall take care of her; and then my Ellen. The ground beyond is
better; we shall get on well after this."
Ellen took the girl in her arms, and stood, not trembling, not weeping;
seeing and feeling every motion; all was safe that time again, Charles
was on the opposite bank, and his father waved his hand to Ellen. He
came back for Alice, whom her mother tied on his shoulders, for hands as
well as feet were wanted to scramble down and up the banks. And now
Ellen followed to the brink, and forgot, in watching her husband and
child pass over, that the black torrent was seething beneath her eyes.
When they were quite safe, she felt again that it was there, and that
her eyes were growing dizzy, and her hands involuntarily grasping about
for support. She did not take time to feel more, but sprang upon the
plank, and over it, and found Paulett's hand seizing hers, and drawing
her up the opposite bank.
And once there, with all the three round her, she burst into
tears--tears which had not overcome her through many miseries--and
embracing them alternately, blessed them that they were all so far safe.
Paulett suffered this emotion to spend itself before he said that he
must cross the plank again. To be more at liberty to assist them, he had
left the diamonds on the other side, till they should be over. Ellen
offered no remonstrance. The times had so schooled them all, that
selfish or unreasonable thoughts either did not come at all, or were
suppressed at once; and she did not oppose, even with a word, this
necessary step. But the renewal of fear, after the excited energy had
subsided, did her more harm than all that had gone before; and she stood
on the brink exhausted, yet palpitating again, while Paulett made the
passage. He himself was wearied; but he had reached the plank, and was
upon it on his way back to safety, when one of those ebullitions which
stirred the dark fluid began roaring down the cleft rock, and with
stunning noise sent up dark and clouding vapour. Paulett seemed
suffocating--he could not be heard--he could but just be seen--he
reeled! Has he fallen? Oh, he has fallen! No--no! he has got his footing
again; he forces himself up the bank; he is safe--but the diamonds are
in the bottom of the pit.