THE OPAL WAY
I sat there a long time, trying to reconstruct her tale, and to find
some possible explanation of its apparent paradoxes. Why should I stay
there till the twilight came? I had learnt that where I sat I was in the
very shadow of death. I knew that the way was long, and the message I
had undertaken was of the utmost urgency.
Some reason for delay there had been, but it was like a dream which
eludes waking thought. And how, in light or dark, could I cross the
great chasm where the pavement ended? I had asked her this, but she had
replied as though she did not understand my difficulty. The bridge was
where it was not. There was no meaning in that. Perhaps my physical
limitations were beyond her understanding. Surely, if I tried that road
by night, though I should avoid the terrors on either hand, I must fall
into the abyss beyond, and perish.
I resolved that I would go forward, at least as far as the path was
clear, and, at the worst, I knew that there were other cavities, such as
this one, in which I could take refuge with no greater danger than was
behind me here.
But again my resolve faltered. I _knew_ that there was some reason
against my going, though my thought could not recall it.
Why should I go by night?
Patiently I recalled the visions which had crossed my mind as our
thoughts encountered.
But there was nothing there to guide me. Only there were gaps I knew in
the cliff-wall, and these were associated with the idea of deadly
danger, but of what kind I could not discover. Her thought had gone
forward with the message I was to bear to her kinsfolk on the dim grey
beaches. These I saw clearly, and strange and mist-like as the vision
rose, there at least was the lapping tide of the unchanging sea. I would
go also to these creatures which were intelligent, though they were not
men. Creatures which could understand, and perhaps show friendship,
though they might think of me as the uncouth Caliban of some forgotten
age.
Why should I wait for the dark? Safety to them might be to me the
deadliest peril.
I would go now.
But first for food, and--_was there no fresh water in this accursed
place_?
The thought struck me with such fear as I had not felt till then. There
had been rain in the night, or at least a heavy mist, but now the sun
shone with increasing strength in a sky of absolute and cloudless blue.
There was a slight steam rising from the hot dark-purple powdery soil of
the forest. The cliff-side was hot to touch. There was no moisture on
the opal pavement now.
Had I to wait till the long-distant night and the cold mist returned?
Well, I might live till then, if I must, but at least it was a new
reason for exploring further.
As to food--the severed tentacles lay on the soil before me. I had been
advised to try them. Raw? I looked at them more carefully than I had yet
done. They had not bled, as severed limbs would do on the earth I knew.
But not plants.
Dare I go again across the burning soil, and would the monster dare to
renew the conflict? Every moment there had been less sign of the havoc
the axe had made. The hacked and shredded petals were growing to their
old form again, but now they lay half-open to the sun, as did the whole
of the forest.
Should I fear to approach it? And could it also read my thoughts, and
would my fear give it confidence?
If that were so, I must school myself to feel courage. Is it not always
the unknown that inspires terror, and was I not as strange to them as
they to me?
My thought stopped to watch a new thing that was happening. Very
cautiously, one of the petals moved aside, and very slowly an uninjured
tentacle crept out across the soil. Was it feeling in the hope that its
first victim still lay there? Did it hope to retrieve those broken
tentacles? No, not that; for it touched one, as it seemed by chance, and
shrank back, and trembled, and crept forward a different way.
Well, I would resolve it confidently. Axe in hand, I went forward. As I
did so, I commenced to sing a lively tune that my subconscious mind
suggested to the occasion.
But before the first line ended, it was drowned in the shrill scream of
the monster, and the creeping arm leapt back to safety.
And again the scream was taken up and re-echoed by a hundred voices,
hideous and deafening beyond description; and with no more thought of
danger I went forward into that deadly space, among creatures that could
destroy me in a moment, but that a song could terrify.
I walked quickly over the steaming soil, which was much hotter than
before, picked up a piece of tentacle, perhaps six feet in length, and
flung it on the pavement. Then I took it into the cave to examine it.
The skin was tough and flexible, with a curious fibrous growth inside
it, with hollow cells intervening. Then there was a thin membrane, and
inside this a ruby-coloured jelly-like substance, outwardly firm, but
semi-liquid towards the centre, from which a few drops fell as I turned
it.
I tasted this jelly and found it very sweet, but otherwise unlike
anything to which I can make comparison. I ate a little, hesitating, and
then decided to sling my snake-like larder over my shoulder, and have a
good meal later, if I felt no ill-effects from my first adventure.