CHAPTER XXXII.
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.