Chapter 6

I Was The Flail Of The Lord

When I entered his flat I had a general impression of extraordinary comfort and elegance combined with an atmosphere of masculinity. Everywhere there were mingled the luxury of the wealthy man of taste and the careless untidiness of the bachelor. Rich furs, antique things, pictures and prints, and numerous trophies, which brought me back to the fact that Lord John Roxton was one of the great sportsmen and athletes of his day.

Having indicated an arm-chair to me and placed my refreshment near it, he seated himself opposite to me and looked at me long and fixedly with his strange, reckless eyes, eyes of a cold light blue, the colour of a lake.

I examined him too: the strongly-curved nose, the dark red hair, masculine moustaches, the aggressive chin. In figure he was spare, very strongly built.

“Well,” said he, at last, “we’ve done it, my friend. I suppose, when you went into that room there was no such thought in your head?”

“No thought of it.”

“The same. And here we are. Why, I’ve only been back three weeks from Uganda, and taken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all. Pretty busy… How does it hit you?”

“Well, it is all in the main line of my business. I am a journalist on the Gazette.”

“Mr Malone, don’t you mind taking a risk, do you?”

“What is the risk?”

“Well, it’s Ballinger… he’s the risk. Have you heard of him?”

“No.”

“Why, Sir John Ballinger is the best sportsman in the north country. Well, it’s not a secret that when he’s out of training, he drinks hard and gets violent… His room is above this. The doctors say that he is done unless some food is got into him, but as he lies in bed with a revolver, and swears he will put six of the best through anyone that comes near him, it is really a problem.”

“What do you mean to do, then?” I asked.

“Well, my idea was that you and I could rush him. He may be sleeping, and at the worst he can only hit one of us, and the other should have him. And we’ll give the old dear the supper of his life.”

It was a rather desperate business. I don’t think that I am a particularly brave man. I have an Irish imagination which makes the unknown and the untried more terrible than they are. On the other hand, I was brought up with a horror of cowardice. I dare say that I could throw myself over a precipice if my courage were questioned, and yet it would surely be pride and fear, rather than courage. I answered as careless as I could that I was ready to go. Some further remark of Lord Roxton’s about the danger only made me irritable.

“Talking won’t make it any better,” said I. “Come on.”

I rose from my chair and he from his. Then with a little chuckle of laughter, he patted me two or three times on the chest, finally pushing me back into my chair.

“All right, sonny,” said he. I looked up in surprise.

“I saw Jack Ballinger myself this morning. He blew a hole in the skirt of my kimono, but we got a jacket on him, and he’s to be all right in a week. I hope you don’t mind… You see I look on this South American business as a very serious thing, and if I have a companion with me I want a man I can rely on. So you came well out of it. Tell me, can you shoot?”

“About average Territorial standard.”

“Good Lord! As bad as that? But you’ll need to hold your gun straight in South America, for we may see some queer things before we get back.”

He crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I saw a rich collection of guns.

“I see…” said he. “Now, here’s something that would do for you.”

He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle.

“Sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip. You can trust your life to that.” He handed it to me and closed the door of his oak cabinet.

“By the way,” he continued, coming back to his chair, “what do you know of this Professor Challenger?”

“I never saw him till today.”

“Well, neither did I. It’s funny we should both sail under the orders from a man we don’t know. His brothers of science don’t seem to like him.”

I told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listened intently. Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it on the table.

“I believe every single word he said was the truth,” said he, earnestly, “America is the richest, most wonderful bit of earth upon this planet. But people don’t know it yet. Well, when I was up there I heard some stories of the same kind… traditions of Indians with something behind them. The more you knew of that country, the more you would understand that anything was possible… ANYTHING. There are just some narrow water-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is all darkness. There are fifty-thousand miles of water-way running through a forest that is very near the size of Europe. Why shouldn’t something new and wonderful lie in such a country? And why shouldn’t we be the men to find it out? Besides, there’s a risk in every mile of it. Give me the great waste lands and a gun and something to look for that’s worth finding. I’ve tried war and aeroplanes, but this hunting of prehistoric beasts is a brand-new sensation!” Lord Roxton said, laughing with delight.

We had a long talk that evening. I left him seated, oiling the lock of his favorite rifle, while he still laughed at the thought of the adventures which awaited us. It was clear to me that I could not in all England have found a cooler head or a braver spirit.

That night, tired after the wonderful happenings of the day, I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole situation. It was agreed that I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of successive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited for the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later, according to the wishes of Professor Challenger.

And now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. From now onwards it can only be through the paper which I represent. In the hands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have led up to one of the most remarkable expeditions of all time, so that if I never return to England there shall be some record as to how the affair came about.

Let me draw one last picture before I close the notebook… It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a thin, cold rain is falling. Three figures are walking to the ship. In front of them a porter pushes a trolley with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. Professor Summerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with drooping head, as one who is already sorry for himself. Lord John Roxton steps briskly, and his face beaming. As for myself, I am glad to have these days of preparation behind me. Suddenly there is a shout behind us. It is Professor Challenger, who had promised to see us off. He runs after us.

“No thank you,” says he; “I don’t want to go aboard. I have only a few words to say to you. I beg you not to imagine that I am in any way indebted to you for making this journey. I would have you to understand that it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, and I refuse to entertain the most remote sense of personal obligation. My directions for your instruction and guidance are in this sealed envelope. You will open it when you reach a town which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hour which is marked upon the outside. Have I made myself clear? Mr. Malone, I demand that you give no particulars as to your exact destination, and that nothing be actually published until your return. Good-bye, sir. You have done something to change my feelings for the profession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord John. You may congratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you. And good-bye to you also, Professor Summerlee. If you are still capable of self-improvement, you will surely return to London a wiser man.”

So he turned upon his heel, and a minute later I could see his short figure as he made his way back to his train. Well, we are well down Channel now. God bless all we leave behind us, and send us safely back.

Chapter 7

Tomorrow We Disappear into the Unknown

I will not tell in every detail our voyage, nor will I tell of our week’s stay at Para. I will also mention very briefly our river journey, up a wide, slow-moving stream, in a steamer which was little smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic. Finally we reached the town of Manaos. Here we spent our time until the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions given to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprising events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my companions. I speak freely and leave the use of my material to you, Mr. McArdle, since this report must pass through your hands before it reaches the world.

Professor Summerlee turned out to be better equipped for the expedition than one would imagine at first sight. His tall, gaunt figure is insensible to fatigue. Though in his sixty-sixth year, I have never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the hardships which we had. In temper he is naturally acid and sceptical. From the beginning he has never doubted that Professor Challenger is an absolute fraud, that we are likely to get nothing but disappointment and danger in South America and ridicule in England. However, since landing from the boat he has found consolation in the beauty and variety of the insect and bird life around him, for he is absolutely whole-hearted in his devotion to science. He spends his days in the woods with his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in examining the many specimens he has caught. He has been on several scientific expeditions in his youth, and the life of the camp and the canoe is nothing new to him.

Lord John Roxton is twenty years younger, but has something of the same spare physique as Professor Summerlee. Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech, and sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick to answer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a half-humorous fashion. His knowledge of the world, and very especially of South America, is surprising, and he has a whole-hearted belief in the possibilities of our journey. He has a gentle voice and a quiet manner, but behind it hides a capacity for furiousity and pitiless resolution. He spoke little of his own visits in Brazil and Peru, but I was very much amazed to find the excitement among the natives, who looked at him as their champion and protector. The deeds of the Red Chief, as they called him, had become legends among them.

These were that Lord John had found himself some years before in that no-man’s-land somewhere between Peru, Brazil, and Columbia. In this great a handful of villainous half-breeds dominated the country, turned the natives into slaves, terrorizing them with the most inhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india-rubber, which was then floated down the river to Para. Lord John Roxton made the stand for the victims, and received nothing but threats and insults. He then formally declared war against the leader of the slave-drivers, armed the natives, and conducted a campaign, which ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breed and breaking down the system which he represented.

One useful result of his former experiences was that he could talk fluently in the Lingoa Geral, which is the peculiar talk, one-third Portuguese and two-thirds Indian, which is current all over Brazil.

I have said before that Lord John Roxton was obsessed with South America. He could not speak of that great country without admiration. Even the Professor’s cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from his thin face as he listened. He would tell the history of the mighty river so rapidly explored, and yet so unknown in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks.

“What is there?” he would cry, pointing to the north. “Wood and jungle. Who knows what it may shelter? And there to the south? A wilderness of dark forest, where no white man has ever been. The unknown is up against us on every side. Who will say what is possible in such a country? Why should old man Challenger not be right?” And the stubborn sneer would reappear on Professor Summerlee’s face, and he would sit, shaking his head in unsympathetic silence, smoking his pipe.

So much, for the moment, for my two white companions. But already we have enrolled certain retainers who may play no small part in what is to come. The first is a gigantic negro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse, and about as intelligent. We enlisted him at Para as he spoke English a little bit. There we also took Gomez and Manuel, two half-breeds, as active and wiry as panthers. Both of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazon which we were about to explore, that was the reason Lord John decided to engage them. One of them, Gomez, had the further advantage that he could speak excellent English. These men were willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or to make themselves useful in any way at a payment of fifteen dollars a month. Besides these, we had hired three Mojo Indians from Bolivia, who are the most skilful at fishing and boat work of all the river tribes. The chief of these we called Mojo, after his tribe, and the others are known as Jose and Fernando. So three white men, two half-breeds, one negro, and three Indians made up the personnel of the little expedition which lay waiting for its instructions at Manaos before starting on its quest.

At last the day had come and the hour. We were seated round the cane table, on which lay a sealed envelope. Written on it, in the handwriting of Professor Challenger, were the words:

“Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party. To be opened at Manaos upon July 15th, at 12 o’clock precisely.”

Lord John had placed his watch upon the table beside him.

“We have seven more minutes,” he said.

Professor Summerlee gave an acid smile as he picked up the envelope in his gaunt hand.

“What can it possibly matter whether we open it now or in seven minutes?” said he. “It is all part of the same system of quackery, for which I regret to say that the writer is notorious.”

“Oh, come, we must play the game according to rules,” said Lord John. “We are here by his good will, so it would be a bad form if we didn’t follow his instructions to the letter.”

“God knows what!” cried the Professor, bitterly. “I don’t know what is inside this envelope, but, unless it is something definite, I shall be much tempted to take the next down-river boat and catch the Bolivia at Para. After all, I have some more responsible work in the world than to follow instructions of a lunatic. Now, Roxton, surely it is time.”

“Time it is,” said Lord John. He opened it and drew a folded sheet of paper. This he carefully opened out and flattened on the table. It was a blank sheet. He turned it over. Again it was blank. We looked at each other in a bewildered silence, which was broken by a burst of sarcastic laughter from Professor Summerlee.

“What more do you want?” he cried. “The fellow is a self-confessed fraud. We have only to return home and report him as the shameless fraud that he is.”

“Invisible ink!” I suggested.

“I don’t think!” said Lord Roxton, holding the paper to the light. “No, there is no use deceiving yourself. Nothing has ever been written upon this paper.”

“May I come in?” boomed a voice from the veranda.

That voice! We sprang to our feet with a gasp of astonishment as Challenger, in a straw-hat with a coloured ribbon… Challenger, with his hands in his jacket-pockets and his canvas shoes daintily pointing as he walked… appeared in the open space before us. There he stood in the golden glow with all his old Assyrian luxuriance of beard, all his native insolence of drooping eyelids and intolerant eyes.

“I fear,” said he, taking out his watch, “that I am a few minutes too late. When I gave you this envelope I must confess that I had never intended that you should open it. It had been my fixed intention to be with you before the hour. I fear that it has given my colleague, Professor Summerlee, occasion to blaspheme.”

“I should say, sir,” said Lord John, with some sternness of voice, “that your turning up is a considerable relief to us, for our mission seemed to have come to a premature end. Even now I can’t understand why you should have worked it in so an extraordinary manner.”

Instead of answering, Professor Challenger shook hands with myself and Lord John, bowed with ponderous insolence to Professor Summerlee, and sank back into a basket-chair, which creaked beneath his weight.

“Is all ready for your journey?” he asked.

“We can start tomorrow.”

“Then so you shall. You need no maps now, since you will have the advantage of my own guidance. From the very beginning I had determined that I would myself preside over your investigation. As to the small trick which I played on you, it is clear that, had I told you all my intentions, you should have travelled out with me.”

“Not, sir!” exclaimed Professor Summerlee, heartily. “So long as there was another ship upon the Atlantic.”

Challenger waved him away with his great hairy hand.

“It was better that I should direct my own movements and appear only at the exact moment when my presence was needed. That moment has now arrived. You are in safe hands. You will not now fail to reach your destination. From now I take command of this expedition, and I must ask you to complete your preparations tonight, so that we may be able to make an early start in the morning.”

Lord John Roxton has hired a large ship, the Esmeralda, which was to carry us up the river. Our expedition was at the time of the dry season, when the great river and its tributaries were more or less in a normal condition. The current of the river was a slight one. No stream could be more convenient for navigation. For three days we went up a stream which was so enormous that from its centre the two banks were shadows upon the distant skyline. On the fourth day after leaving Manaos we turned into a tributary which was little smaller than the main stream. It narrowed rapidly, however, and soon we reached an Indian village, where the Professor insisted that we should land, and that the Esmeralda should be sent back to Manaos.

He added that we were now approaching the door of the unknown country. To this end also he made each of us give our word of honour that we would publish or say nothing which would give any exact clue as to the whereabouts of our travels. It is for this reason that I have to be vague in my narrative, and I would warn my readers that it in no way can be taken as an actual guide to the country. Professor Challenger’s reasons for secrecy may be valid or not, but we had no choice but to adopt them, for he was prepared to abandon the whole expedition rather than modify the conditions on which he would guide us.

It was August 2nd when we cut our last link with the outer world by saying goodbye to the Esmeralda. Since then four days have passed, during which we have hired two large canoes from the Indians, which we have loaded with all our belongings, and have enlisted two additional Indians to help us in the navigation. They are the very two, Ataca and Ipetu by name, who accompanied Professor Challenger on his previous journey. They seemed to be terrified at the prospect of repeating it, but as it was the chief’s will so that they had little choice in the matter.

So tomorrow we disappear into the unknown. This account I am transmitting down the river by canoe, and it may be our last word to those who are interested in our fate. I have, according to our arrangement, addressed it to you, my dear Mr. McArdle. In spite of the continued scepticism of Professor Summerlee I have no doubt that our leader will make good his statement, and that we are really on the eve of some most remarkable experiences.