The People of the Chasm E-Book

T.C. Bridges

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

„As the great ’plane roared through the upper air, young Monty Vince sat with his eyes glued to the thick glass window of her enclosed body, and watched the sea of clouds lying like a pearly floor far below. Every nerve in his body tingled with excitement and triumph, for even he, small as was his experience, knew that this first flight of his brother’s new machine was a magnificent success”.

Leseprobe

Contents

I. THE RECORD BREAKERS

II. THE HOUSE IN FRANCE

III. FOOTSTEPS IN THE NIGHT

IV. ANDRÉ SHOWS HIS TEETH

V. HOW ANDRÉ WAS TRICKED

VI. ANDRÉ TRIES ONCE MORE

VII. ANDRÉ'S LAST EFFORT

VIII. THE KILLERS

IX. THE GREAT BARRIER

X. MONTY GOES GUNNING

XI. READING THE MESSAGE

XII. THE START

XIII. THE WHIRLSTORM

XIV. OVER THE EDGE

XV. THE LANDING

XVI. THE INHABITANTS OF THE LEDGE

XVII. NIGHTMARE LAND

XVIII. WORSE AND WORSE

XIX. THE BATTLE WITH THE BEAST

XX. THE GREAT GLARE

XXI. TIME TO THINK

XXII. THE REAL RABBIT

XXIII. ANTON AT LAST

XXIV. ANTON'S STORY

XXV. THE PERIL OF THE APES

XXVI. AT CLOSE QUARTERS

XXVII. SLAUGHTER

XXVIII. IN THE MOUTH OF THE CAVERN

XXIX. SAVED BY A SPIDER

XXX. ANTON'S PLAN

XXXI. THE UPPER LEDGE

XXXII. THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR

XXXIII. MONTY'S RUSE

XXXIV. THE LAST STAND

XXXV. THE END OF THE APES

XXXVI. THE CLOSEST CALL

XXXVII. THE GIFT OF GLIJ

I. THE RECORD BREAKERS

AS the great ‘plane roared through the upper air, young Monty Vince sat with his eyes glued to the thick glass window of her enclosed body, and watched the sea of clouds lying like a pearly floor far below. Every nerve in his body tingled with excitement and triumph, for even he, small as was his experience, knew that this first flight of his brother’s new machine was a magnificent success.

On and on she flew, and the cloud floor seeming to sink away told Monty that the great machine was still rising. Earth had long since been lost sight of, even the topmost clouds were far below, and they winged their way in solitary splendour, bathed in the cold sunlight of the upper levels.

Presently Monty noticed something new. The deep, steady roar of the enormously powerful engines seemed to be dropping in tone. It was steady as ever, yet certainly not so loud. Yes, there was no doubt about it, and with a sudden feeling of uneasiness, Monty rose from his seat and went forward to where his brother sat in the pilot seat, his long flexible fingers resting lightly on the delicate controls. Beautiful hands Dick Vince had, almost as fine as any woman’s, but the left was curiously marred by a long white scar which ran back from the second knuckle, disappearing under the sleeve of his pilot’s jacket.

Monty leant over until his lips almost touched the other’s ear. “Dick,” he said, “Dick, what is the matter? Is anything wrong with the engines?”

Dick Vince looked up with a slight, look of surprise. “Why, Monty–why do you think that?”

“Can’t you hear? Don’t you notice there’s not half so much noise?”

Dick smiled, and the smile lit up very pleasantly his keen, clever face and clear, dark eyes. “Yes, I hear it. But that’s only natural, Monty.”

“Why?”

“Because of the height, old chap,” and as he spoke Dick Vince pointed to the barograph, the height-recording instrument which was fixed on the instrument board in front of him.

Monty looked, and his eyes widened. “Good heavens, Dick, you don’t mean to say that we are thirty thousand feet up?” he exclaimed.

“Not quite that, but we soon shall be. Twenty-nine thousand seven hundred is the exact figure.”

“B-but isn’t that a record?”

“If it isn’t it soon will be,” replied Dick, with quiet confidence.

For a minute or so Monty said nothing. The marvels of this wonderful aeroplane rendered him speechless. When at last he spoke again his voice had a note of awe in it. “But I thought that no one could breathe at such a height, Dick. There’s so little air.”

Dick smiled again. “There’s none under water, Monty, yet people go down three hundred feet in submarines.”

Monty considered a little. “Then this is a sort of submarine of the air.”

“Yes. The body is air-tight and almost cold proof. And when we need fresh air I simply turn on a little oxygen.”

Again there was silence for a time, and again it was Monty who broke it. “But, Dick, if there is so little air up here how do the wings get a grip? How does the machine manage to fly at all?”

“That is a matter of construction, Monty. For her power, the Falcon is, I believe, the lightest machine ever built. This new alloy of mine saved a deal of weight, and then, these extension wings make a big difference. I get a lot more bearing surface, which makes up for the lesser density of the air.”

Monty gazed at his brother with whole-hearted admiration. “Dick, I think you’re an absolute marvel,” he declared.

Dick turned to his brother. “The Falcon is a success, Monty,” he said gravely. “There is no boasting in saying that. But I want you to remember that, but for you, she could never have been built.

“No, don’t interrupt me,” he went on quickly, as he saw Monty’s lips move. “I mean what I say. The credit is due to you just as much as to me. If you had not trusted me, if you had not put up the money, it could never have been done.”

Monty shook his head impatiently. “Nonsense, Dick! It’s no credit to me. You see I knew you’d make a go of it.”

“You could not know that,” answered Dick, as gravely as before. “That was impossible. Yet you handed over to me the whole of the legacy that Uncle John left you. As I said before, the Falcon owes her existence as much to you as to me, for if you had not put up the money she would never have been built. People don’t trust a youngster like me with money for new inventions.”

Monty brushed aside his brother’s gratitude with a laugh. “Well, anyhow, she’s a howling success, and since you have made me your partner, we’re both going to make a fortune. What are you going to do with yours, Dick?”

“Explore,” said Dick, quickly. “See parts of the world that no one knows anything about. Fly over the Himalayas and up across the Andes of Bolivia.”

Monty’s eyes shone. “Me, too!” he cried.

“That’s what I’d like best.”

A sudden thought struck Monty, and he came back to Dick. “I say, Dick, where are you coming down?”

“How do you mean? I shall return to the aerodrome at Boltham.”

“But you can’t tell where it is. There is no sign of the earth–nothing but clouds.”

“Yes, but when we dip back through the clouds we shall see the earth again.”

Monty was silent, but somehow not quite easy in his mind. It was his first big ascent, and the loneliness up here oppressed him. It seemed to him that they were cut off completely from everything human.

And still the Falcon’s nose was cocked upwards, and still she rose and rose. The cold outside must have been frightful, for even within the perfectly insulated and electrically heated interior Monty was beginning to shiver. Then quite suddenly the Falcon began to quiver in an odd way.

“What’s the matter?” asked Monty, hastily.

“Wind,” replied Dick, curtly. “We must have run into something pretty stiff. I’ve never struck anything like this before, Monty. It’s a regular hurricane. I shall have to drop out of it. No machine that ever was built could fight it.”

As he spoke he turned the ‘plane completely round, and let her nose point downwards. The difference was amazing. All the fearful stress and strain ceased, and the sense of peace was a delightful change.

There was silence for a little while, then Monty spoke again. “Any idea which way we are travelling?” he asked.

“East, I am thankful to say,” replied his brother.

“We must be a longish way from Boltham,” said Monty.

“We are, I’m afraid, but anyhow, we are not being blown out into the Atlantic.”

“But what price the North Sea, Dick?”

“We have petrol enough to cross that at a pinch,” Dick told him, “but I hope we shan’t have to do anything of the sort. All the same, I wish the clouds would break.”

It was now getting late in the day, and although at this height the sun was still visible, yet the big golden globe was not far from setting.

Then, as Monty watched eagerly, suddenly the clouds broke, and they were beneath the thick canopy and flying through the gloom of a late evening. He looked down. “Dick–Dick!” he cried, “we’re over the sea!”

II. THE HOUSE IN FRANCE

“I WAS afraid of it,” was Dick’s reply, but though his tone was grave he did not seem unduly disturbed. “Keep your eyes open, Monty. I think you will soon see land.”

Some minutes passed, then Monty, watching with straining eyes, gave a sudden shout. “A light–a big light. It’s away down to the right–south-east I should reckon.”

“A lighthouse,” responded Dick. “Somewhere on the Belgian or French coast, I expect. Give me the direction. I’ll try and make it.”

“But aren’t you going back to England?”

“I doubt if I’ve got petrol. Besides, we should have to fight every inch of the way. Even down here there is a heavy westerly gale.”

Monty was silent, but inwardly he was much excited. Never in his life before had he been out of England. This was a new adventure with a vengeance.

Dick spoke again. “We’re almost over the lighthouse. I believe it’s Griz Nez–south of Calais–but I can’t be quite sure. I’m going to carry on and look for a landing. We mustn’t risk damaging the Falcon.”

Almost as he spoke everything was blurred again. A violent rainstorm filled the air. Monty saw that Dick, for the first time since starting, was now really worried. He himself knew that it was no joke to land in unknown country in such weather as this.

“I’m going up higher,” Dick told Monty presently. “No good trying to land till it’s a bit clearer.”

But the rain did not stop, and though they knew that they were now far over the land, they were forced to keep going. It began to grow dark, and plainly Dick was becoming really worried.

“It’s petrol,” he said, pointing to the gauge.

“The tanks will be empty in another twenty minutes.”

“The wind isn’t quite so strong, is it?” said Monty, presently.

“No, but the weather is still as thick as ever.”

“Not quite,” replied Monty. “I can see lights below.”

“Yes, a village, but I dare not go down yet. I can’t see the ground.”

The minutes passed all too quickly, and the petrol gauge sank and sank. Monty, watching it, felt desperate. Suppose they came down in a forest, and smashed their beautiful Falcon all to pieces. He had no more money to give his brother to build a new machine. It would be ruin–sheer ruin.

“Another five minutes will see us out of spirit,” said Dick, frowning.

“I see lights again,” replied Monty. “It’s a bit clearer. Yes, and I can see big, open fields, too. Dick, it’s now or never.”

Dick merely nodded, and suddenly cut off the engine. The silence after the constant roar had a curiously numbing effect.

The Falcon was planing downwards and Monty breathlessly watched the dim ground which seemed to rise towards them.

Suddenly he gave a shout. “Trees just below. Look out, Dick!”

Dick switched on again, the Falcon lifted and narrowly cleared a line of tall poplars. “And a house!” cried Monty, as he caught a gleam of light. “That’s better,” he added. “Now there’s a field. Bring her right down.”

Another few seconds of tense anxiety, then the wheels touched the ground, and the big ‘plane shot forward, bumping over rough grass. There was a bellowing as a herd of frightened cattle galloped away from the huge intruder. Then the pace slowed, and the Falcon came to rest.

“Splendid, Dick!” cried Monty delightedly.

But Dick was on his feet like a flash. “Quick, Monty! It’s still blowing. We must anchor her firmly.”

It was work they both understood well, and since the wind down here was not so strong as above, they had soon made a good job of it. The next question was to find out where they were.

“There’s the house,” said Monty, “the one we just missed. Let’s go and see who lives there. Luckily we can both talk a bit of French.”

Dick agreed, and leaving the ‘plane, they made their way through the darkness across the field, and presently arrived at a tall wall. “Must be’ a regular château,” said Monty. “I wonder where the gate is.”

They groped along the wall for some distance, and struck a big iron-studded door. There was an old-fashioned bell with a chain, which, as Monty pulled, gave a hoarse jangle. Instantly came a tremendous deep-mouthed baying.

“Sounds like a mastiff,” said Monty. “I say, Dick, what have we struck?”

“Something out of the Middle Ages,” replied Dick. “I only hope the brute is tied up.”

There was a long delay before at last they heard bolts being pulled back. The big door swung open, and the light of an old- fashioned candle lantern showed them a tall, skinny-looking man of between forty and fifty, who wore a rusty black suit, and peered at them suspiciously with beady eyes deep-set under shaggy brows.

“What do you want?” he demanded in French.

“We are English airmen,” responded Dick, in the same language. “We have been driven down here by bad weather, and we should be glad to know where we are, and where we can get a night’s lodging.”

“You are boys–children,” retorted the other. “You are not airmen.”

Monty got red, but Dick kept his temper. “If you don’t believe us, perhaps you will walk with us across the field and see our ‘plane,” he replied courteously.

The man scowled. “You wish to trap me,” he snarled.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” snapped Monty, now really cross.

It was at this moment that another voice was hoard. “Who are they, André? What is the trouble?”

The speaker had just come to the door of the tall, old- fashioned house, which the boys could dimly see at the end of a paved walk about thirty yards from the gate. He was a bigger man than André, but was lame, and propped himself with crutches.

André turned. “They say they are English airmen driven here by storm, Henri. But I think they are thieves.”

“Bring them here that I may see,” ordered the other.

The other grumbled beneath his breath, but obeyed. As the boys came up the path, suddenly an enormous mastiff sprang up and hurled itself on Monty. It was chained, but the chain was long enough for the brute to reach the path.

The force of the huge dog’s leap knocked Monty down, and but for Dick next moment its teeth would have met in his throat. Quick as a flash Dick caught hold of the chain and gave it such a terrific jerk that it turned the dog right over on its back. Before it could recover, he had seized Monty and dragged him out of reach.

The elderly man, who seemed to be the master of the house, came hobbling forward on his crutches.

“That was well done. I trust the boy is not hurt.” Then he turned on André and rated him well. “It is your doing that the kennel is placed so close to the path. How often have I told you to keep it out of reach?”

André did not answer, but his ugly, skinny face was one scowl.

“You must forgive my brother,” said the other to Dick, speaking with a pleasant courtesy. “He is always afraid of burglars. My name is Javelot, and I am glad to see you. Now come in, both of you, and tell me what I can do to serve you.”

Inside, the house was much more pleasant than out. The old gentleman took the brothers into a big, handsomely-furnished, high-ceilinged room, where a log fire was burning, and a table ready laid for supper. He made them sit down, and listened with the greatest interest to their story, which Dick told in plain and simple words. Luckily his French was good enough for this purpose. When Dick spoke of the immense height to which the new Falcon had risen, Monsieur Javelot’s eyes fairly glowed with excitement.

“But how did you breathe at such a height?” he asked.

Dick told him of the enclosed body of the Falcon, and of the peculiar construction which enabled those within the body to withstand the rarefied air and intense cold of the upper levels.

Monsieur Javelot leant forward, breathing quickly. It was clear that he was not only interested, but also intensely excited. Monty wondered inwardly what the reason could be.

“But this is wonderful,” exclaimed the old Frenchman–”most wonderful! And for mere boys to invent and fly such a marvel! It amazes me!”

He was evidently going to say something else when the door opened and a hard-featured woman came in with a large tray loaded with dishes.

“Supper,” said Monsieur Javelot. “You will be hungry, my young friends. Let us eat. Afterwards we will continue our conversation.”

The supper was excellent. There were soup, roast chicken, with exquisitely-cooked vegetables, and dishes of stewed fruit, with rich yellow custard. The boys, who were both very hungry, did justice to the good things. The man called André, who, the boys discovered, was Monsieur Javelot’s half-brother, ate with them, but never said a word. He looked sulky and upset. Afterwards he helped the woman, who was his wife, to clear the table.

Then Monsieur Javelot made the boys sit over the fire, and began to talk again. He asked them about their plans, whether they meant to put the new ‘plane on the market, and showed that he knew a good deal about aircraft.

His keen eyes fell upon the curious scar on Dick’s hand.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but that must have been a bad injury.”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “All in the way of business, monsieur. I got that the first time I ever handled a ‘plane. She was an old war ‘bus and went wrong, and started to nose-dive. The other chap and I had a pretty nasty half minute, and were lucky to get off with our lives.”

Monty broke in quickly. “He’s not telling you half of it, monsieur. One wing crumpled and the ‘plane nose-dived right down upon a lake covered with skaters. It looked as if the machine would smash the ice and drown half of them. And Dick was handling her for the first time in his life. Dick kept his head, and somehow managed to flatten her out a bit and swing her into the trees on the right bank. Frank Saunders, who was with Dick, told me it was the quickest, cleverest bit of work he had ever seen in his life.”

“Oh, that’s all rot, Monty,” said Dick, colouring. “It was the only thing to do.”

“It was fine–splendid!” declared M. Javelot.

“But tell me, Monsieur Vince, what do you mean to do with this wonderful new machine of yours?”

Laughingly, Dick told him that he and Monty hoped to make money, and then go exploring.

All the old gentleman’s excitement returned. “You would explore? Ah, but of course, for you are English!” He paused, gazing at them, and they noticed that, in spite of his age, which must have boon about sixty, his eyes were bright as a boy’s.

“Tell me,” he said, “would you explore a country less known than any other in the world?”

“Why, of course,” replied Dick. “That is just what we want to do.”

“But it would be dangerous–very dangerous.”

“We’d take our chances,” answered Dick, in his quiet way. “But what country do you mean?”

The other looked at him as if he would read his very soul.

“The Unknown Continent,” he said. “The great Antarctica.”

Dick started slightly. Monty’s eyes widened.

“Could we do it?” asked Dick, doubtfully.

“Yes–in that marvellous machine of yours which laughs at cold or rare air.”

Dick nodded. “It might be possible,” he said, slowly.

“But of course it would be possible,” replied the other. “And no other test could so perfectly prove the powers of your machine. Listen to me. The one who is dearest to me in all the world, my only son, he is lost in that vast desert of ice.” His voice shook slightly, but he went on. “Lost, yet something tells me he is not dead. And you–you two will find him for me. Is it not so?”

Dick and Monty stared. The proposal seemed crazy–impossible. Before either could think of a suitable reply the door opened, and André put his sour face round the corner. “It is your bed-time, brother.”

Monsieur Javelot turned upon him and spoke with a curt anger which was in startling contrast to his recent mood. “I am busy, André. When I want you I will call you. Meantime, leave me alone.”

André did not obey at once, but stood scowling fiercely. Then, growling something under his breath, he withdrew. Monty whispered to Dick, “Mark my words, Dick. That chap means mischief.”

III. FOOTSTEPS IN THE NIGHT

“HE is a little troublesome, that brother of mine,” said Monsieur Javelot to the boys as André retired growling like an angry dog. “But he is devoted to me. He and his wife take care of me since the accident which lamed me. You will excuse him.”

The old gentleman was so charming that Dick and Monty would have done more than that to please him, and said so.

He smiled at them, then suddenly turned serious. “And now, my friends, to go back to what I was saying. This venture–this search–will you undertake it?”

“We should like to hear more about it, first, monsieur,” said Dick, frankly.

“But, certainly. I will tell you. My son, Anton, is a doctor and a clever scientist. It was as doctor that he was engaged to go with the Delange Scientific Expedition to the Antarctic. That was in the year 1914, just before the Great War. It was in 1916 that the party returned to France, but Anton–alas!–was not with them.”

The dear old gentleman paused, and choked a little. The two boys waited silently till he could continue.

“It was the Count Delange himself who came to me and told me the whole story. Anton, he said, volunteered for an expedition across the great ice-cap which, as you know, covers the whole of that vast continent. He went with three companions, and their object, so the Count told me, was to investigate a volcano of which the smoke had been seen from a high peak near the coast.

“Three weeks later, Anton’s three companions returned and told their chief that Anton was lost. It appears that the party gained a point within a few miles of the spot from which the smoke rose. But the curious point is that there was no mountain. The smoke or vapour rose from a crevice or valley in the ice itself. They had encountered very severe weather, and were all exhausted.

“But Anton, being the strongest of them, volunteered to go forward, alone, and investigate. Through their glasses they watched him tramp across the ice until he became a mere black dot in the distance. It seemed to them that he actually reached the edge of the rift and disappeared over it.

“Then suddenly one of the terrible storms which are called blizzards swept down from the south and instantly all sight of him, the smoke and everything was lost in the whirl of ice flakes. The storm lasted three whole days, at the end of which the three survivors struggled back more dead than alive. After that the weather prevented any further attempts to discover the mystery of the smoke or to search for my son.”

Again Monsieur Javelot stopped, unable to say more, and for a time the silence was broken only by the snapping of the flames of the wood fire.

It was Monty who spoke at last. “But, monsieur,” he said, softly, “do you think there is any hope of Anton, your son, being still alive?”

The old gentleman fixed his eyes on the boy.

“Yes,” he said, emphatically. “Yes. You may think me crazy, but in my dreams I have seen him again and again. And always he seems to be looking for me and for his old home.”

“But there is no food in that Antarctic Continent,” insisted Monty. “It is not like the Far North, where there are Eskimo and seals and musk oxen. Explorers say that there is no life at all on the Antarctic ice-cap.”

“That is true. They all say so. Yet who knows? Not the thousandth part of that great waste has ever been explored. Smoke or vapour means heat, and with heat there might be herbage–animals–anything.”

Monsieur Javelot paused. “And even if Anton is dead,” he went on, presently, “I wish to know it definitely. I wish his body to be found.”

Dick spoke up. “We will help you if we can, monsieur,” he said, quietly.

Monsieur Javelot’s bright eyes shone. “I thank you, my boy. That is all I ask.”

Again there was silence for a time in the big warm room.

Monsieur Javelot moved and stretched his thin hands to the fire. “Messieurs,” he said, quietly, “I am a rich man. I can afford to hire a ship and crew fit to take you and your aeroplane to the edge of the eternal ice. I shall also wish to pay you fairly for your trouble. If I am able, and my doctor will allow, I shall accompany you. You agree to my plan?”

“Certainly we do,” replied Dick, “but don’t you think that you are taking us rather on trust? You know nothing about us except what we have told you. You have not even seen our machine.”

Monsieur Javelot smiled his very pleasant smile. “That troubles me not at all. I have eyes, and I know men. I can see that you are English gentlemen, and that satisfies me.

“But it grows late,” he continued, “and you are tired. I shall now take you to the room which I have had prepared for you. To- morrow you will show me your flying machine, and we shall make further arrangements, and you shall communicate with your friends in England.”

Dick shook his head. “There will be no need for that, monsieur. My brother and I are alone in the world. Our parents are dead, and we are entirely at your service.”

“Alone, just as I am,” said the old gentleman, softly, and rose from his chair. Monty hastened to hand him his crutches, and he led the way out of the room.

“But our machine,” said Dick, rather anxiously. “It is out in the field, monsieur. Can we not house it somewhere?”

“I had forgotten,” said their host. “No, I have no building large enough for it. But the wind has quite fallen, the barometer is rising, and no one will meddle with it. Is it not safe where it is?”

Dick nodded. “In that case it will be all right, monsieur. We will leave it where it is.”