CHAPTER V.
OVER THE CATARACT’S BRINK.
TWICE the Seal turned turtle in the course of that terrible dive, dashing her crew with stunning force against the turret walls. In vain they strove to regain their balance. Helpless as logs they were hurled to and fro, until, battered beyond all human endurance, they one and all sank into insensibility.
And still the submarine plunged downward, still she lurched and wallowed in the rioting waters.
Suddenly she was brought up with a fearful shock that snapped off both propellers like rotten sticks. A veritable avalanche of water thundered down upon her, battering her hull so that the steel plates groaned beneath the enormous strain.
Each instant it seemed as though the stout glass of the turret must be beaten in; yet it held bravely, and at length the downpour ceased, and the Seal shot forward like an arrow.
Two hours went by, and then Haverly recovered his senses. Staggering to his feet, he steadied himself against the wheel, and gazed outside.
The rays of the great searchlight gleamed white and dazzling on the walls and roof of a rocky tunnel, through which the Seal was racing at headlong speed, urged on by the fearful force of the torrent, on whose foaming bosom she was borne.
With an effort—so enfeebled was he by his terrible experience—Silas moved to the door. To his great joy it opened easily, and he flung it wide, admitting a flood of life-giving air.
“Thank Heaven!” he murmured fervently, damping his parched and blackened lips, while he drew in deep draughts of pure, cool air; “another hour and we’d all have passed in our checks.”
Turning, he found his friends already stirring, their recovery hastened by the beneficent influence of the refreshing atmosphere.
Crowding to the door, they stood for some moments filling their exhausted lungs.
“Whatever have we struck?” Seymour asked at length, gazing in amazement at the dripping, glistening walls of the passage.
“A subterranean river, I reckon,” responded Silas, “an’ one with a fairish slope, judgin’ by the speed we’re travellin’ at.”
“I have no doubt,” Mervyn began, “that this strange tunnel is of volcanic origin; at one time probably a lava passage, through which the molten metal was forced from the bowels of the earth to the crater of the volcano we have left far behind us.”
“If that is true,” interrupted Seymour, “we are plunging each instant deeper and deeper into the bowels of the globe, and at the present moment must be far down below the bed of the Polar Sea!”
“Exactly!” returned Mervyn. “We started upon this trip as a North Polar expedition, but it seems we are to end up with a journey to the centre of the earth. Whether we ever return therefrom depends wholly upon Providence.”
“Then where shall we end up?” the inventor asked, his face a picture of incredulous amazement. “I mean, what is there below?”
“Heaven alone knows,” the scientist returned gravely; “yet, as we have been delivered in so marvellous a manner from the grip of the magnetic mountain, we will hope for the best.”
“I guess we’ve just got to sit tight and see it through,” cried the Yankee. “Without her screws the old boat’s as helpless as a log, though I doubt if they’d ha’ been any use against this darned current. I calculate that feed you was preparin’ would be acceptable at the present period, Garth.”
Taking the hint conveyed in the last sentence, the inventor withdrew, and soon from below came the rattle of crockery and the clatter of knives and forks. The walls of the tunnel still flashed by in an eternal monotony, and long, pendant mosses, trailing their slimy lengths from the rocky roof, seemed to writhe and twist like dark green snakes as the vessel swept past beneath them.
And with every yard of her advance—and this was the thought that haunted her crew—the Seal plunged deeper into the unknown depths of the earth!
Her pace became terrific as the time went by, and the eyes of the watchers in her turret were strained ahead, expecting—yet dreading—each moment that some fearful abyss would yawn before them, in the black depths of which their faithful vessel would be swallowed up.
Steering was utterly out of the question, even had the vessel not been damaged; for so great was the speed, that no sooner had they sighted a dangerous curve in the tunnel, of an out-jutting rock, than the Seal was upon it. The swiftness of the current alone prevented the submarine from shattering herself to fragments against the numerous obstacles.
Glad were the party when Garth’s voice summoned them below, and, leaving the vessel to take care of herself, they retired, to forget for a while the danger of their novel position in the pleasures of the table.
Then, when their hunger was satisfied, they resumed their places in the turret, wondering what would be the end of their marvellous and terrible journey. Now the roof of the passage would sink, until a few inches only separated the rock from the top of the turret; anon it would rise and become lost to sight as the Seal swept into some vast subterranean chamber, whose midnight darkness the light of the great arc-light seemed but to render more intense, as it trembled through it for a brief moment, then vanished as the vessel swept on.
Where would it end?
The fateful question hammered at the watchers’ brains as they stood through the long hours, silently awaiting the end.
“For Heaven’s sake, speak, some of you!” Seymour cried at last, after a long interval, during which no word had been spoken, “this silence is enough to drive one mad!”
“Of what should we speak, my friend?” the scientist asked gravely. “The while our fate is trembling in the balance, our lives hanging, as it were, upon a thread, there seems but little attraction in conversation, however interesting in the ordinary course of events the subject may be.”
“I hold there’s no call to despair yet awhile,” Silas interrupted sharply; “the old Seal’s a stayer, an’ so long as she keeps her end up, we’ll pull through.”
“Good old Silas!” Seymour cried, clapping his friend on the back.
“Wal, it’s this way,” Haverly went on, “I’ve come out of so many tight corners with a whole skin, that one more or less makes no difference. You Britishers pride yourselves on your ‘never say die’ motto. I guess this is a suitable time to apply the same. Say, William, you recollect that little bit of a scrap on the Amazon, six years back?”
“Rather,” Seymour returned.
“Wal, I reckon as that was considerable tighter than the present situation. You see, professor, it——”
He broke off abruptly, as from somewhere far ahead came a murmuring drone, like the first low note of some giant organ.
“What is it?” Mervyn asked.
The millionaire flung open the door.
A cool, damp wind, laden with spray, whistled up the tunnel, and the drone grew in volume as the submarine swept on.
A puzzled expression passed over Haverly’s features as he stood listening for some moments.
Then his brow cleared and he slammed to the door.
“I guess we’re nearing the end,” he said; “it’s the sound of a waterfall.”
His comrades gazed despairingly into each other’s faces. What they had feared for so long was about to happen.
Somewhere, not far ahead, the river thundered into space over the brink of some subterranean precipice, and towards this spot the Seal was racing.
The water hissed and foamed about her stern, and long lines of bubbles, gleaming like pearls beneath the searchlight’s glare, danced far ahead, to lose themselves in the darkness of the tunnel.
And ever the drone grew louder, moment by moment, until the Seal, flashing round a curve, swept out into a huge, arched cavern, and the droning note changed to a thunderous roar—the voice of a mighty cataract!
Every plate, every rib which went to form the vessel’s frame, sang with the vibration of the falling waters.
Ahead, the watchers could see the waters leaping, tumbling, foaming in mad confusion, and, beyond, a mighty cloud of mist hovered, veiling, like a white curtain, the terrors of the fearful abyss into which the river plunged.
“Hold tight!” roared Haverly, his voice ringing clear and true above the din of the falling waters.
The others gazed, half fascinated, in spite of the peril at the scene before them. Swiftly the vessel sped on to her doom, the dancing waves lapping her hull playfully as they hurried her forward.
Helpless as a log, the splendid craft was turned and twisted in the grip of the cataract. She paused for an instant as she reached the verge, like some terrified animal shying from a leap; then a tremor passed through her plates, and she plunged swiftly over into the depths.
Pale as death were her crew, yet never a cry escaped them as their stout vessel pitched downward, stern in air.
Through each man’s mind ran the same question: was there deep water beneath the fall, or a row of jagged rocks, on whose giant teeth the unfortunate Seal would shatter herself into a thousand fragments!
The time seemed interminable! Would she never stop falling?
In reality a few seconds only were occupied by the descent, but to the explorers ages seemed to pass, ere, with a terrible crash, the submarine struck the foaming whirlpool below the cataract.
High above the boom of the waters sounded the shock of that fall, and a huge column of spray was flung upward by the impact of the vessel’s hull.
Her crew, shaken from their hold, were hurled like puppets against the walls of the turret, and a merciful oblivion once more swept over them.
Quickly the vessel was beaten downwards by the enormous weight of the plunging water. Lower and still lower she went, whirling madly, until it seemed as though she would never rise again.
Thrice she was swept round in the grip of the whirlpool, only to be drawn back once more to the foot of the fall, as the needle is drawn to the magnet. By some miraculous chance she escaped collision with the rocky walls which formed the basin of the boiling cauldron, although many times within an ace of destruction.
Then she was once more swept forward, and this time, escaping the power of the eddy, sped out into the river beyond.
A mile lower down she came to the surface and drifted on, her searchlight gleaming through the darkness like the eye of some huge aquatic monster. Hour after hour passed, and still she was borne gently forward on the bosom of the subterranean river. The roar of the fall died to a murmur as she floated on, and at length ceased altogether.
Past iron-toothed rocks she drifted, which reared their jagged crests threateningly amid the swirling waters; past huge caverns and grottoes, the stalactites of which flashed crystal like as the electric light penetrated for an instant into their dark obscurity; past seething mud-banks, in the midst of which foul, loathsome forms sprawled and wallowed.
And still her crew lay unconscious in the wheelhouse, knowing naught of the perils through which their craft was passing.
Slowly the force of the current expended itself, and at length the Seal, drifting into shoal water, grounded gently on a shelving bank of mud.
Then, out from the filth and mire of the mud-flats on either hand, hideous heads were thrust, and monstrous goggle eyes glared upon the motionless vessel.
Moving with a strange, shuffling motion, full a score of these horrible river-creatures—loathsome beyond all imagination—shambled towards the Seal.
Their great claws—hideous in their likeness to men’s hands—were outstretched eagerly, ravenously, and their green eyes were aglow with fiendish desire. Soon they reached the rail, and, gripping it, dragged their misshapen bodies aboard.
Gibbering and snarling, the monsters crept along the deck until they reached the turret, the glass of which appeared to puzzle them for some little time. Then one shambled to the rail and plunged over, returning shortly with a fragment of rock, with which he presently began to batter the glass.
Bang! bang! Even the stout, specially-toughened glass of the turret could not long withstand those blows. Bang! The creature’s arms rose and fell with tireless, machine-like monotony. His fellows, squatting upon their haunches, awaited his efforts impatiently.
Ere long the sound of the blows penetrated to Haverly’s brain, and he stirred uneasily. As it noted the movement, the river-creature paused in its attack, and, pressing its hideous face against the glass, glared ferociously at the American.
Slowly Silas rose, steadying himself against the wheel; then, as his eyes swept round the turret, he encountered the malignant gaze of the horror without, and, with a startled exclamation, he leapt back, drawing his revolver.
At that the river-creature once more raised its clumsy weapon, and dashed it with terrible force against the glass of the door.
With a splintering crash the door burst open, and, as one, the whole band of waiting monsters rose, and, with teeth gnashing savagely, plunged towards the doorway.