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Title: The Land That Time Forgot

Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs

Release Date: June, 1996 [Etext #551] [Yes, we are about one year ahead of
schedule] [The actual date this file first posted = 11/1/01]
Edition: 11

Language: English

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Created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska

The Land that Time Forgot

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Chapter 1
It must have been a little after three o’clock in the afternoon that it happened
—the afternoon of June 3rd, 1916. It seems incredible that all that I have
passed through—all those weird and terrifying experiences—should have
been encompassed within so short a span as three brief months. Rather might
I have experienced a cosmic cycle, with all its changes and evolutions for
that which I have seen with my own eyes in this brief interval of time—things
that no other mortal eye had seen before, glimpses of a world past, a world
dead, a world so long dead that even in the lowest Cambrian stratum no trace
of it remains. Fused with the melting inner crust, it has passed forever
beyond the ken of man other than in that lost pocket of the earth whither fate
has borne me and where my doom is sealed. I am here and here must remain.

After reading this far, my interest, which already had been stimulated by the
finding of the manuscript, was approaching the boiling-point. I had come to
Greenland for the summer, on the advice of my physician, and was slowly
being bored to extinction, as I had thoughtlessly neglected to bring sufficient
reading-matter. Being an indifferent fisherman, my enthusiasm for this form of
sport soon waned; yet in the absence of other forms of recreation I was now
risking my life in an entirely inadequate boat off Cape Farewell at the
southernmost extremity of Greenland.

Greenland! As a descriptive appellation, it is a sorry joke—but my story has

nothing to do with Greenland, nothing to do with me; so I shall get through
with the one and the other as rapidly as possible.

The inadequate boat finally arrived at a precarious landing, the natives,

waist-deep in the surf, assisting. I was carried ashore, and while the evening
meal was being prepared, I wandered to and fro along the rocky, shattered
shore. Bits of surf-harried beach clove the worn granite, or whatever the
rocks of Cape Farewell may be composed of, and as I followed the ebbing
tide down one of these soft stretches, I saw the thing. Were one to bump into
a Bengal tiger in the ravine behind the Bimini Baths, one could be no more
surprised than was I to see a perfectly good quart thermos bottle turning and
twisting in the surf of Cape Farewell at the southern extremity of Greenland. I
rescued it, but I was soaked above the knees doing it; and then I sat down in
the sand and opened it, and in the long twilight read the manuscript, neatly
written and tightly folded, which was its contents.

You have read the opening paragraph, and if you are an imaginative idiot like
myself, you will want to read the rest of it; so I shall give it to you here,
omitting quotation marks—which are difficult of remembrance. In two
minutes you will forget me.

My home is in Santa Monica. I am, or was, junior member of my father’s

firm. We are ship-builders. Of recent years we have specialized on
submarines, which we have built for Germany, England, France and the
United States. I know a sub as a mother knows her baby’s face, and have
commanded a score of them on their trial runs. Yet my inclinations were all
toward aviation. I graduated under Curtiss, and after a long siege with my
father obtained his permission to try for the Lafayette Escadrille. As a
stepping-stone I obtained an appointment in the American ambulance service
and was on my way to France when three shrill whistles altered, in as many
seconds, my entire scheme of life.

I was sitting on deck with some of the fellows who were going into the
American ambulance service with me, my Airedale, Crown Prince Nobbler,
asleep at my feet, when the first blast of the whistle shattered the peace and
security of the ship. Ever since entering the U-boat zone we had been on the
lookout for periscopes, and children that we were, bemoaning the unkind fate
that was to see us safely into France on the morrow without a glimpse of the
dread marauders. We were young; we craved thrills, and God knows we got
them that day; yet by comparison with that through which I have since passed
they were as tame as a Punch-and-Judy show.

I shall never forget the ashy faces of the passengers as they stampeded for
their lifebelts, though there was no panic. Nobs rose with a low growl. I
rose, also, and over the ship’s side, I saw not two hundred yards distant the
periscope of a submarine, while racing toward the liner the wake of a
torpedo was distinctly visible. We were aboard an American ship—which,
of course, was not armed. We were entirely defenseless; yet without warning,
we were being torpedoed.

I stood rigid, spellbound, watching the white wake of the torpedo. It struck us
on the starboard side almost amidships. The vessel rocked as though the sea
beneath it had been uptorn by a mighty volcano. We were thrown to the
decks, bruised and stunned, and then above the ship, carrying with it
fragments of steel and wood and dismembered human bodies, rose a column
of water hundreds of feet into the air.

The silence which followed the detonation of the exploding torpedo was
almost equally horrifying. It lasted for perhaps two seconds, to be followed
by the screams and moans of the wounded, the cursing of the men and the
hoarse commands of the ship’s officers. They were splendid—they and their
crew. Never before had I been so proud of my nationality as I was that
moment. In all the chaos which followed the torpedoing of the liner no
officer or member of the crew lost his head or showed in the slightest any
degree of panic or fear.

While we were attempting to lower boats, the submarine emerged and

trained guns on us. The officer in command ordered us to lower our flag, but
this the captain of the liner refused to do. The ship was listing frightfully to
starboard, rendering the port boats useless, while half the starboard boats
had been demolished by the explosion. Even while the passengers were
crowding the starboard rail and scrambling into the few boats left to us, the
submarine commenced shelling the ship. I saw one shell burst in a group of
women and children, and then I turned my head and covered my eyes.

When I looked again to horror was added chagrin, for with the emerging of
the U-boat I had recognized her as a product of our own shipyard. I knew her
to a rivet. I had superintended her construction. I had sat in that very conning-
tower and directed the efforts of the sweating crew below when first her
prow clove the sunny summer waters of the Pacific; and now this creature of
my brain and hand had turned Frankenstein, bent upon pursuing me to my
death.
A second shell exploded upon the deck. One of the lifeboats, frightfully
overcrowded, swung at a dangerous angle from its davits. A fragment of the
shell shattered the bow tackle, and I saw the women and children and the
men vomited into the sea beneath, while the boat dangled stern up for a
moment from its single davit, and at last with increasing momentum dived
into the midst of the struggling victims screaming upon the face of the waters.

Now I saw men spring to the rail and leap into the ocean. The deck was
tilting to an impossible angle. Nobs braced himself with all four feet to keep
from slipping into the scuppers and looked up into my face with a questioning
whine. I stooped and stroked his head.

“Come on, boy!” I cried, and running to the side of the ship, dived
headforemost over the rail. When I came up, the first thing I saw was Nobs
swimming about in a bewildered sort of way a few yards from me. At sight
of me his ears went flat, and his lips parted in a characteristic grin.

The submarine was withdrawing toward the north, but all the time it was
shelling the open boats, three of them, loaded to the gunwales with survivors.
Fortunately the small boats presented a rather poor target, which, combined
with the bad marksmanship of the Germans preserved their occupants from
harm; and after a few minutes a blotch of smoke appeared upon the eastern
horizon and the U-boat submerged and disappeared.

All the time the lifeboats has been pulling away from the danger of the
sinking liner, and now, though I yelled at the top of my lungs, they either did
not hear my appeals for help or else did not dare return to succor me. Nobs
and I had gained some little distance from the ship when it rolled completely
over and sank. We were caught in the suction only enough to be drawn
backward a few yards, neither of us being carried beneath the surface. I
glanced hurriedly about for something to which to cling. My eyes were
directed toward the point at which the liner had disappeared when there
came from the depths of the ocean the muffled reverberation of an explosion,
and almost simultaneously a geyser of water in which were shattered
lifeboats, human bodies, steam, coal, oil, and the flotsam of a liner’s deck
leaped high above the surface of the sea—a watery column momentarily
marking the grave of another ship in this greatest cemetery of the seas.
When the turbulent waters had somewhat subsided and the sea had ceased to
spew up wreckage, I ventured to swim back in search of something
substantial enough to support my weight and that of Nobs as well. I had
gotten well over the area of the wreck when not a half-dozen yards ahead of
me a lifeboat shot bow foremost out of the ocean almost its entire length to
flop down upon its keel with a mighty splash. It must have been carried far
below, held to its mother ship by a single rope which finally parted to the
enormous strain put upon it. In no other way can I account for its having
leaped so far out of the water—a beneficent circumstance to which I
doubtless owe my life, and that of another far dearer to me than my own. I
say beneficent circumstance even in the face of the fact that a fate far more
hideous confronts us than that which we escaped that day; for because of that
circumstance I have met her whom otherwise I never should have known; I
have met and loved her. At least I have had that great happiness in life; nor
can Caspak, with all her horrors, expunge that which has been.

So for the thousandth time I thank the strange fate which sent that lifeboat
hurtling upward from the green pit of destruction to which it had been
dragged—sent it far up above the surface, emptying its water as it rose above
the waves, and dropping it upon the surface of the sea, buoyant and safe.

It did not take me long to clamber over its side and drag Nobs in to
comparative safety, and then I glanced around upon the scene of death and
desolation which surrounded us. The sea was littered with wreckage among
which floated the pitiful forms of women and children, buoyed up by their
useless lifebelts. Some were torn and mangled; others lay rolling quietly to
the motion of the sea, their countenances composed and peaceful; others were
set in hideous lines of agony or horror. Close to the boat’s side floated the
figure of a girl. Her face was turned upward, held above the surface by her
lifebelt, and was framed in a floating mass of dark and waving hair. She was
very beautiful. I had never looked upon such perfect features, such a divine
molding which was at the same time human— intensely human. It was a face
filled with character and strength and femininity—the face of one who was
created to love and to be loved. The cheeks were flushed to the hue of life
and health and vitality, and yet she lay there upon the bosom of the sea, dead.
I felt something rise in my throat as I looked down upon that radiant vision,
and I swore that I should live to avenge her murder.
And then I let my eyes drop once more to the face upon the water, and what I
saw nearly tumbled me backward into the sea, for the eyes in the dead face
had opened; the lips had parted; and one hand was raised toward me in a
mute appeal for succor. She lived! She was not dead! I leaned over the boat’s
side and drew her quickly in to the comparative safety which God had given
me. I removed her lifebelt and my soggy coat and made a pillow for her
head. I chafed her hands and arms and feet. I worked over her for an hour,
and at last I was rewarded by a deep sigh, and again those great eyes opened
and looked into mine.

At that I was all embarrassment. I have never been a ladies’ man; at Leland-
Stanford I was the butt of the class because of my hopeless imbecility in the
presence of a pretty girl; but the men liked me, nevertheless. I was rubbing
one of her hands when she opened her eyes, and I dropped it as though it
were a red-hot rivet. Those eyes took me in slowly from head to foot; then
they wandered slowly around the horizon marked by the rising and falling
gunwales of the lifeboat. They looked at Nobs and softened, and then came
back to me filled with questioning.

“I—I—” I stammered, moving away and stumbling over the next thwart. The
vision smiled wanly.

“Aye-aye, sir!” she replied faintly, and again her lips drooped, and her long
lashes swept the firm, fair texture of her skin.

“I hope that you are feeling better,” I finally managed to say.

“Do you know,” she said after a moment of silence, “I have been awake for a
long time! But I did not dare open my eyes. I thought I must be dead, and I
was afraid to look, for fear that I should see nothing but blackness about me. I
am afraid to die! Tell me what happened after the ship went down. I
remember all that happened before—oh, but I wish that I might forget it!” A
sob broke her voice. “The beasts!” she went on after a moment. “And to think
that I was to have married one of them—a lieutenant in the German navy.”

Presently she resumed as though she had not ceased speaking. “I went down
and down and down. I thought I should never cease to sink. I felt no
particular distress until I suddenly started upward at ever-increasing
velocity; then my lungs seemed about to burst, and I must have lost
consciousness, for I remember nothing more until I opened my eyes after
listening to a torrent of invective against Germany and Germans. Tell me,
please, all that happened after the ship sank.”

I told her, then, as well as I could, all that I had seen—the submarine shelling
the open boats and all the rest of it. She thought it marvelous that we should
have been spared in so providential a manner, and I had a pretty speech upon
my tongue’s end, but lacked the nerve to deliver it. Nobs had come over and
nosed his muzzle into her lap, and she stroked his ugly face, and at last she
leaned over and put her cheek against his forehead. I have always admired
Nobs; but this was the first time that it had ever occurred to me that I might
wish to be Nobs. I wondered how he would take it, for he is as unused to
women as I. But he took to it as a duck takes to water. What I lack of being a
ladies’ man, Nobs certainly makes up for as a ladies’ dog. The old scalawag
just closed his eyes and put on one of the softest “sugar-wouldn’t-melt-in-
my-mouth” expressions you ever saw and stood there taking it and asking for
more. It made me jealous.

“You seem fond of dogs,” I said.

“I am fond of this dog,” she replied.

Whether she meant anything personal in that reply I did not know; but I took it
as personal and it made me feel mighty good.

As we drifted about upon that vast expanse of loneliness it is not strange that
we should quickly become well acquainted. Constantly we scanned the
horizon for signs of smoke, venturing guesses as to our chances of rescue; but
darkness settled, and the black night enveloped us without ever the sight of a
speck upon the waters.

We were thirsty, hungry, uncomfortable, and cold. Our wet garments had
dried but little and I knew that the girl must be in grave danger from the
exposure to a night of cold and wet upon the water in an open boat, without
sufficient clothing and no food. I had managed to bail all the water out of the
boat with cupped hands, ending by mopping the balance up with my
handkerchief—a slow and back-breaking procedure; thus I had made a
comparatively dry place for the girl to lie down low in the bottom of the
boat, where the sides would protect her from the night wind, and when at last
she did so, almost overcome as she was by weakness and fatigue, I threw my
wet coat over her further to thwart the chill. But it was of no avail; as I sat
watching her, the moonlight marking out the graceful curves of her slender
young body, I saw her shiver.

“Isn’t there something I can do?” I asked. “You can’t lie there chilled through
all night. Can’t you suggest something?”

She shook her head. “We must grin and bear it,” she replied after a moment.

Nobbler came and lay down on the thwart beside me, his back against my
leg, and I sat staring in dumb misery at the girl, knowing in my heart of hearts
that she might die before morning came, for what with the shock and
exposure, she had already gone through enough to kill almost any woman.
And as I gazed down at her, so small and delicate and helpless, there was
born slowly within my breast a new emotion. It had never been there before;
now it will never cease to be there. It made me almost frantic in my desire to
find some way to keep warm and cooling lifeblood in her veins. I was cold
myself, though I had almost forgotten it until Nobbler moved and I felt a new
sensation of cold along my leg against which he had lain, and suddenly
realized that in that one spot I had been warm. Like a great light came the
understanding of a means to warm the girl. Immediately I knelt beside her to
put my scheme into practice when suddenly I was overwhelmed with
embarrassment. Would she permit it, even if I could muster the courage to
suggest it? Then I saw her frame convulse, shudderingly, her muscles reacting
to her rapidly lowering temperature, and casting prudery to the winds, I
threw myself down beside her and took her in my arms, pressing her body
close to mine.

She drew away suddenly, voicing a little cry of fright, and tried to push me
from her.

“Forgive me,” I managed to stammer. “It is the only way. You will die of
exposure if you are not warmed, and Nobs and I are the only means we can
command for furnishing warmth.” And I held her tightly while I called Nobs
and bade him lie down at her back. The girl didn’t struggle any more when
she learned my purpose; but she gave two or three little gasps, and then
began to cry softly, burying her face on my arm, and thus she fell asleep.
Chapter 2
Toward morning, I must have dozed, though it seemed to me at the time that I
had lain awake for days, instead of hours. When I finally opened my eyes, it
was daylight, and the girl’s hair was in my face, and she was breathing
normally. I thanked God for that. She had turned her head during the night so
that as I opened my eyes I saw her face not an inch from mine, my lips almost
touching hers.

It was Nobs who finally awoke her. He got up, stretched, turned around a few
times and lay down again, and the girl opened her eyes and looked into mine.
Hers went very wide at first, and then slowly comprehension came to her,
and she smiled.

“You have been very good to me,” she said, as I helped her to rise, though if
the truth were known I was more in need of assistance than she; the
circulation all along my left side seeming to be paralyzed entirely. “You have
been very good to me.” And that was the only mention she ever made of it;
yet I know that she was thankful and that only reserve prevented her from
referring to what, to say the least, was an embarrassing situation, however
unavoidable.

Shortly after daylight we saw smoke apparently coming straight toward us,
and after a time we made out the squat lines of a tug—one of those fearless
exponents of England’s supremacy of the sea that tows sailing ships into
French and English ports. I stood up on a thwart and waved my soggy coat
above my head. Nobs stood upon another and barked. The girl sat at my feet
straining her eyes toward the deck of the oncoming boat. “They see us,” she
said at last. “There is a man answering your signal.” She was right. A lump
came into my throat—for her sake rather than for mine. She was saved, and
none too soon. She could not have lived through another night upon the
Channel; she might not have lived through the coming day.

The tug came close beside us, and a man on deck threw us a rope. Willing
hands dragged us to the deck, Nobs scrambling nimbly aboard without
assistance. The rough men were gentle as mothers with the girl. Plying us
both with questions they hustled her to the captain’s cabin and me to the
boiler-room. They told the girl to take off her wet clothes and throw them
outside the door that they might be dried, and then to slip into the captain’s
bunk and get warm. They didn’t have to tell me to strip after I once got into
the warmth of the boiler-room. In a jiffy, my clothes hung about where they
might dry most quickly, and I myself was absorbing, through every pore, the
welcome heat of the stifling compartment. They brought us hot soup and
coffee, and then those who were not on duty sat around and helped me damn
the Kaiser and his brood.

As soon as our clothes were dry, they bade us don them, as the chances were
always more than fair in those waters that we should run into trouble with the
enemy, as I was only too well aware. What with the warmth and the feeling
of safety for the girl, and the knowledge that a little rest and food would
quickly overcome the effects of her experiences of the past dismal hours, I
was feeling more content than I had experienced since those three whistle-
blasts had shattered the peace of my world the previous afternoon.

But peace upon the Channel has been but a transitory thing since August,
1914. It proved itself such that morning, for I had scarce gotten into my dry
clothes and taken the girl’s apparel to the captain’s cabin when an order was
shouted down into the engine-room for full speed ahead, and an instant later I
heard the dull boom of a gun. In a moment I was up on deck to see an enemy
submarine about two hundred yards off our port bow. She had signaled us to
stop, and our skipper had ignored the order; but now she had her gun trained
on us, and the second shot grazed the cabin, warning the belligerent tug-
captain that it was time to obey. Once again an order went down to the
engine-room, and the tug reduced speed. The U-boat ceased firing and
ordered the tug to come about and approach. Our momentum had carried us a
little beyond the enemy craft, but we were turning now on the arc of a circle
that would bring us alongside her. As I stood watching the maneuver and
wondering what was to become of us, I felt something touch my elbow and
turned to see the girl standing at my side. She looked up into my face with a
rueful expression. “They seem bent on our destruction,” she said, “and it
looks like the same boat that sunk us yesterday.”
“It is,” I replied. “I know her well. I helped design her and took her out on
her first run.”

The girl drew back from me with a little exclamation of surprise and
disappointment. “I thought you were an American,” she said. “I had no idea
you were a—a—”

“Nor am I,” I replied. “Americans have been building submarines for all
nations for many years. I wish, though, that we had gone bankrupt, my father
and I, before ever we turned out that Frankenstein of a thing.”

We were approaching the U-boat at half speed now, and I could almost
distinguish the features of the men upon her deck. A sailor stepped to my side
and slipped something hard and cold into my hand. I did not have to look at it
to know that it was a heavy pistol. “Tyke ‘er an’ use ‘er,” was all he said.

Our bow was pointed straight toward the U-boat now as I heard word passed
to the engine for full speed ahead. I instantly grasped the brazen effrontery of
the plucky English skipper—he was going to ram five hundreds tons of U-
boat in the face of her trained gun. I could scarce repress a cheer. At first the
boches didn’t seem to grasp his intention. Evidently they thought they were
witnessing an exhibition of poor seamanship, and they yelled their warnings
to the tug to reduce speed and throw the helm hard to port.

We were within fifty feet of them when they awakened to the intentional
menace of our maneuver. Their gun crew was off its guard; but they sprang to
their piece now and sent a futile shell above our heads. Nobs leaped about
and barked furiously. “Let ‘em have it!” commanded the tug-captain, and
instantly revolvers and rifles poured bullets upon the deck of the
submersible. Two of the gun-crew went down; the other trained their piece at
the water-line of the oncoming tug. The balance of those on deck replied to
our small-arms fire, directing their efforts toward the man at our wheel.

I hastily pushed the girl down the companionway leading to the engine-room,
and then I raised my pistol and fired my first shot at a boche. What happened
in the next few seconds happened so quickly that details are rather blurred in
my memory. I saw the helmsman lunge forward upon the wheel, pulling the
helm around so that the tug sheered off quickly from her course, and I recall
realizing that all our efforts were to be in vain, because of all the men
aboard, Fate had decreed that this one should fall first to an enemy bullet. I
saw the depleted gun-crew on the submarine fire their piece and I felt the
shock of impact and heard the loud explosion as the shell struck and
exploded in our bows.

I saw and realized these things even as I was leaping into the pilot-house and
grasping the wheel, standing astride the dead body of the helmsman. With all
my strength I threw the helm to starboard; but it was too late to effect the
purpose of our skipper. The best I did was to scrape alongside the sub. I
heard someone shriek an order into the engine-room; the boat shuddered and
trembled to the sudden reversing of the engines, and our speed quickly
lessened. Then I saw what that madman of a skipper planned since his first
scheme had gone wrong.

With a loud-yelled command, he leaped to the slippery deck of the

submersible, and at his heels came his hardy crew. I sprang from the pilot-
house and followed, not to be left out in the cold when it came to strafing the
boches. From the engine room companionway came the engineer and
stockers, and together we leaped after the balance of the crew and into the
hand-to-hand fight that was covering the wet deck with red blood. Beside me
came Nobs, silent now, and grim. Germans were emerging from the open
hatch to take part in the battle on deck. At first the pistols cracked amidst the
cursing of the men and the loud commands of the commander and his junior;
but presently we were too indiscriminately mixed to make it safe to use our
firearms, and the battle resolved itself into a hand-to-hand struggle for
possession of the deck.

The sole aim of each of us was to hurl one of the opposing force into the sea.
I shall never forget the hideous expression upon the face of the great Prussian
with whom chance confronted me. He lowered his head and rushed at me,
bellowing like a bull. With a quick side-step and ducking low beneath his
outstretched arms, I eluded him; and as he turned to come back at me, I
landed a blow upon his chin which sent him spinning toward the edge of the
deck. I saw his wild endeavors to regain his equilibrium; I saw him reel
drunkenly for an instant upon the brink of eternity and then, with a loud
scream, slip into the sea. At the same instant a pair of giant arms encircled
me from behind and lifted me entirely off my feet. Kick and squirm as I
would, I could neither turn toward my antagonist nor free myself from his
maniacal grasp. Relentlessly he was rushing me toward the side of the vessel
and death. There was none to stay him, for each of my companions was more
than occupied by from one to three of the enemy. For an instant I was fearful
for myself, and then I saw that which filled me with a far greater terror for
another.

My boche was bearing me toward the side of the submarine against which the
tug was still pounding. That I should be ground to death between the two was
lost upon me as I saw the girl standing alone upon the tug’s deck, as I saw the
stern high in air and the bow rapidly settling for the final dive, as I saw death
from which I could not save her clutching at the skirts of the woman I now
knew all too well that I loved.

I had perhaps the fraction of a second longer to live when I heard an angry
growl behind us mingle with a cry of pain and rage from the giant who
carried me. Instantly he went backward to the deck, and as he did so he threw
his arms outwards to save himself, freeing me. I fell heavily upon him, but
was upon my feet in the instant. As I arose, I cast a single glance at my
opponent. Never again would he menace me or another, for Nob’s great jaws
had closed upon his throat. Then I sprang toward the edge of the deck closest
to the girl upon the sinking tug.

“Jump!” I cried. “Jump!” And I held out my arms to her. Instantly as though
with implicit confidence in my ability to save her, she leaped over the side of
the tug onto the sloping, slippery side of the U-boat. I reached far over to
seize her hand. At the same instant the tug pointed its stern straight toward the
sky and plunged out of sight. My hand missed the girl’s by a fraction of an
inch, and I saw her slip into the sea; but scarce had she touched the water
when I was in after her.

The sinking tug drew us far below the surface; but I had seized her the
moment I struck the water, and so we went down together, and together we
came up—a few yards from the U-boat. The first thing I heard was Nobs
barking furiously; evidently he had missed me and was searching. A single
glance at the vessel’s deck assured me that the battle was over and that we
had been victorious, for I saw our survivors holding a handful of the enemy
at pistol points while one by one the rest of the crew was coming out of the
craft’s interior and lining up on deck with the other prisoners.

As I swam toward the submarine with the girl, Nobs’ persistent barking
attracted the attention of some of the tug’s crew, so that as soon as we
reached the side there were hands to help us aboard. I asked the girl if she
was hurt, but she assured me that she was none the worse for this second
wetting; nor did she seem to suffer any from shock. I was to learn for myself
that this slender and seemingly delicate creature possessed the heart and
courage of a warrior.

As we joined our own party, I found the tug’s mate checking up our
survivors. There were ten of us left, not including the girl. Our brave skipper
was missing, as were eight others. There had been nineteen of us in the
attacking party and we had accounted in one way and another during the
battle for sixteen Germans and had taken nine prisoners, including the
commander. His lieutenant had been killed.

“Not a bad day’s work,” said Bradley, the mate, when he had completed his
roll. “Only losing the skipper,” he added, “was the worst. He was a fine man,
a fine man.”

Olson—who in spite of his name was Irish, and in spite of his not being
Scotch had been the tug’s engineer—was standing with Bradley and me.
“Yis,” he agreed, “it’s a day’s wor-rk we’re after doin’, but what are we
goin’ to be doin’ wid it now we got it?”

“We’ll run her into the nearest English port,” said Bradley, “and then we’ll
all go ashore and get our V. C.‘s,” he concluded, laughing.

“How you goin’ to run her?” queried Olson. “You can’t trust these
Dutchmen.”

Bradley scratched his head. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “And I don’t
know the first thing about a sub.”

“I do,” I assured him. “I know more about this particular sub than the officer
who commanded her.”
Both men looked at me in astonishment, and then I had to explain all over
again as I had explained to the girl. Bradley and Olson were delighted.
Immediately I was put in command, and the first thing I did was to go below
with Olson and inspect the craft thoroughly for hidden boches and damaged
machinery. There were no Germans below, and everything was intact and in
ship-shape working order. I then ordered all hands below except one man
who was to act as lookout. Questioning the Germans, I found that all except
the commander were willing to resume their posts and aid in bringing the
vessel into an English port. I believe that they were relieved at the prospect
of being detained at a comfortable English prison-camp for the duration of
the war after the perils and privations through which they had passed. The
officer, however, assured me that he would never be a party to the capture of
his vessel.

There was, therefore, nothing to do but put the man in irons. As we were
preparing to put this decision into force, the girl descended from the deck. It
was the first time that she or the German officer had seen each other’s faces
since we had boarded the U-boat. I was assisting the girl down the ladder
and still retained a hold upon her arm—possibly after such support was no
longer necessary—when she turned and looked squarely into the face of the
German. Each voiced a sudden exclamation of surprise and dismay.

“Lys!” he cried, and took a step toward her.

The girl’s eyes went wide, and slowly filled with a great horror, as she
shrank back. Then her slender figure stiffened to the erectness of a soldier,
and with chin in air and without a word she turned her back upon the officer.

“Take him away,” I directed the two men who guarded him, “and put him in
irons.”

When he had gone, the girl raised her eyes to mine. “He is the German of
whom I spoke,” she said. “He is Baron von Schoenvorts.”

I merely inclined my head. She had loved him! I wondered if in her heart of
hearts she did not love him yet. Immediately I became insanely jealous. I
hated Baron Friedrich von Schoenvorts with such utter intensity that the
emotion thrilled me with a species of exaltation.
But I didn’t have much chance to enjoy my hatred then, for almost
immediately the lookout poked his face over the hatchway and bawled down
that there was smoke on the horizon, dead ahead. Immediately I went on deck
to investigate, and Bradley came with me.

“If she’s friendly,” he said, “we’ll speak her. If she’s not, we’ll sink her—eh,
captain?”

“Yes, lieutenant,” I replied, and it was his turn to smile.

We hoisted the Union Jack and remained on deck, asking Bradley to go

below and assign to each member of the crew his duty, placing one
Englishman with a pistol beside each German.

“Half speed ahead,” I commanded.

More rapidly now we closed the distance between ourselves and the
stranger, until I could plainly see the red ensign of the British merchant
marine. My heart swelled with pride at the thought that presently admiring
British tars would be congratulating us upon our notable capture; and just
about then the merchant steamer must have sighted us, for she veered
suddenly toward the north, and a moment later dense volumes of smoke
issued from her funnels. Then, steering a zigzag course, she fled from us as
though we had been the bubonic plague. I altered the course of the submarine
and set off in chase; but the steamer was faster than we, and soon left us
hopelessly astern.

With a rueful smile, I directed that our original course be resumed, and once
again we set off toward merry England. That was three months ago, and we
haven’t arrived yet; nor is there any likelihood that we ever shall. The
steamer we had just sighted must have wirelessed a warning, for it wasn’t
half an hour before we saw more smoke on the horizon, and this time the
vessel flew the white ensign of the Royal Navy and carried guns. She didn’t
veer to the north or anywhere else, but bore down on us rapidly. I was just
preparing to signal her, when a flame flashed from her bows, and an instant
later the water in front of us was thrown high by the explosion of a shell.
Bradley had come on deck and was standing beside me. “About one more of
those, and she’ll have our range,” he said. “She doesn’t seem to take much
stock in our Union Jack.”

A second shell passed over us, and then I gave the command to change our
direction, at the same time directing Bradley to go below and give the order
to submerge. I passed Nobs down to him, and following, saw to the closing
and fastening of the hatch.

It seemed to me that the diving-tanks never had filled so slowly. We heard a

loud explosion apparently directly above us; the craft trembled to the shock
which threw us all to the deck. I expected momentarily to feel the deluge of
inrushing water, but none came. Instead we continued to submerge until the
manometer registered forty feet and then I knew that we were safe. Safe! I
almost smiled. I had relieved Olson, who had remained in the tower at my
direction, having been a member of one of the early British submarine crews,
and therefore having some knowledge of the business. Bradley was at my
side. He looked at me quizzically.

“What the devil are we to do?” he asked. “The merchantman will flee us; the
war-vessel will destroy us; neither will believe our colors or give us a
chance to explain. We will meet even a worse reception if we go nosing
around a British port—mines, nets and all of it. We can’t do it.”

“Let’s try it again when this fellow has lost the scent,” I urged. “There must
come a ship that will believe us.”

And try it again we did, only to be almost rammed by a huge freighter. Later
we were fired upon by a destroyer, and two merchantmen turned and fled at
our approach. For two days we cruised up and down the Channel trying to
tell some one, who would listen, that we were friends; but no one would
listen. After our encounter with the first warship I had given instructions that
a wireless message be sent out explaining our predicament; but to my chagrin
I discovered that both sending and receiving instruments had disappeared.

“There is only one place you can go,” von Schoenvorts sent word to me,
“and that is Kiel. You can’t land anywhere else in these waters. If you wish, I
will take you there, and I can promise that you will be treated well.”
“There is another place we can go,” I sent back my reply, “and we will
before we’ll go to Germany. That place is hell.”
Chapter 3
Those were anxious days, during which I had but little opportunity to
associate with Lys. I had given her the commander’s room, Bradley and I
taking that of the deck-officer, while Olson and two of our best men occupied
the room ordinarily allotted to petty officers. I made Nobs’ bed down in Lys’
room, for I knew she would feel less alone.

Nothing of much moment occurred for a while after we left British waters
behind us. We ran steadily along upon the surface, making good time. The
first two boats we sighted made off as fast as they could go; and the third, a
huge freighter, fired on us, forcing us to submerge. It was after this that our
troubles commenced. One of the Diesel engines broke down in the morning,
and while we were working on it, the forward port diving-tank commenced
to fill. I was on deck at the time and noted the gradual list. Guessing at once
what was happening, I leaped for the hatch and slamming it closed above my
head, dropped to the centrale. By this time the craft was going down by the
head with a most unpleasant list to port, and I didn’t wait to transmit orders
to some one else but ran as fast as I could for the valve that let the sea into
the forward port diving-tank. It was wide open. To close it and to have the
pump started that would empty it were the work of but a minute; but we had
had a close call.

I knew that the valve had never opened itself. Some one had opened it—
some one who was willing to die himself if he might at the same time
encompass the death of all of us.

After that I kept a guard pacing the length of the narrow craft. We worked
upon the engine all that day and night and half the following day. Most of the
time we drifted idly upon the surface, but toward noon we sighted smoke due
west, and having found that only enemies inhabited the world for us, I
ordered that the other engine be started so that we could move out of the path
of the oncoming steamer. The moment the engine started to turn, however,
there was a grinding sound of tortured steel, and when it had been stopped,
we found that some one had placed a cold-chisel in one of the gears.
It was another two days before we were ready to limp along, half repaired.
The night before the repairs were completed, the sentry came to my room and
awoke me. He was rather an intelligent fellow of the English middle class, in
whom I had much confidence.

“Well, Wilson,” I asked. “What’s the matter now?”

He raised his finger to his lips and came closer to me. “I think I’ve found out
who’s doin’ the mischief,” he whispered, and nodded his head toward the
girl’s room. “I seen her sneakin’ from the crew’s room just now,” he went on.
“She’d been in gassin’ wit’ the boche commander. Benson seen her in there
las’ night, too, but he never said nothin’ till I goes on watch tonight. Benson’s
sorter slow in the head, an’ he never puts two an’ two together till some one
else has made four out of it.”

If the man had come in and struck me suddenly in the face, I could have been
no more surprised.

“Say nothing of this to anyone,” I ordered. “Keep your eyes and ears open
and report every suspicious thing you see or hear.”

The man saluted and left me; but for an hour or more I tossed, restless, upon
my hard bunk in an agony of jealousy and fear. Finally I fell into a troubled
sleep. It was daylight when I awoke. We were steaming along slowly upon
the surface, my orders having been to proceed at half speed until we could
take an observation and determine our position. The sky had been overcast
all the previous day and all night; but as I stepped into the centrale that
morning I was delighted to see that the sun was again shining. The spirits of
the men seemed improved; everything seemed propitious. I forgot at once the
cruel misgivings of the past night as I set to work to take my observations.

What a blow awaited me! The sextant and chronometer had both been broken
beyond repair, and they had been broken just this very night. They had been
broken upon the night that Lys had been seen talking with von Schoenvorts. I
think that it was this last thought which hurt me the worst. I could look the
other disaster in the face with equanimity; but the bald fact that Lys might be
a traitor appalled me.
I called Bradley and Olson on deck and told them what had happened, but for
the life of me I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what Wilson had reported to
me the previous night. In fact, as I had given the matter thought, it seemed
incredible that the girl could have passed through my room, in which Bradley
and I slept, and then carried on a conversation in the crew’s room, in which
Von Schoenvorts was kept, without having been seen by more than a single
man.

Bradley shook his head. “I can’t make it out,” he said. “One of those boches
must be pretty clever to come it over us all like this; but they haven’t harmed
us as much as they think; there are still the extra instruments.”

It was my turn now to shake a doleful head. “There are no extra instruments,”
I told them. “They too have disappeared as did the wireless apparatus.”

Both men looked at me in amazement. “We still have the compass and the
sun,” said Olson. “They may be after getting the compass some night; but
they’s too many of us around in the daytime fer ‘em to get the sun.”

It was then that one of the men stuck his head up through the hatchway and
seeing me, asked permission to come on deck and get a breath of fresh air. I
recognized him as Benson, the man who, Wilson had said, reported having
seen Lys with von Schoenvorts two nights before. I motioned him on deck
and then called him to one side, asking if he had seen anything out of the way
or unusual during his trick on watch the night before. The fellow scratched
his head a moment and said, “No,” and then as though it was an afterthought,
he told me that he had seen the girl in the crew’s room about midnight talking
with the German commander, but as there hadn’t seemed to him to be any
harm in that, he hadn’t said anything about it. Telling him never to fail to
report to me anything in the slightest out of the ordinary routine of the ship, I
dismissed him.

Several of the other men now asked permission to come on deck, and soon
all but those actually engaged in some necessary duty were standing around
smoking and talking, all in the best of spirits. I took advantage of the absence
of the men upon the deck to go below for my breakfast, which the cook was
already preparing upon the electric stove. Lys, followed by Nobs, appeared
as I entered the centrale. She met me with a pleasant “Good morning!” which
I am afraid I replied to in a tone that was rather constrained and surly.

“Will you breakfast with me?” I suddenly asked the girl, determined to
commence a probe of my own along the lines which duty demanded.

She nodded a sweet acceptance of my invitation, and together we sat down at

the little table of the officers’ mess. “You slept well last night?” I asked.

“All night,” she replied. “I am a splendid sleeper.”

Her manner was so straightforward and honest that I could not bring myself
to believe in her duplicity; yet—Thinking to surprise her into a betrayal of
her guilt, I blurted out: “The chronometer and sextant were both destroyed
last night; there is a traitor among us.” But she never turned a hair by way of
evidencing guilty knowledge of the catastrophe.

“Who could it have been?” she cried. “The Germans would be crazy to do it,
for their lives are as much at stake as ours.”

“Men are often glad to die for an ideal—an ideal of patriotism, perhaps,” I
replied; “and a willingness to martyr themselves includes a willingness to
sacrifice others, even those who love them. Women are much the same,
except that they will go even further than most men—they will sacrifice
everything, even honor, for love.”

I watched her face carefully as I spoke, and I thought that I detected a very
faint flush mounting her cheek. Seeing an opening and an advantage, I sought
to follow it up.

“Take von Schoenvorts, for instance,” I continued: “he would doubtless be

glad to die and take us all with him, could he prevent in no other way the
falling of his vessel into enemy hands. He would sacrifice anyone, even you;
and if you still love him, you might be his ready tool. Do you understand
me?”

She looked at me in wide-eyed consternation for a moment, and then she

went very white and rose from her seat. “I do,” she replied, and turning her
back upon me, she walked quickly toward her room. I started to follow, for
even believing what I did, I was sorry that I had hurt her. I reached the door
to the crew’s room just behind her and in time to see von Schoenvorts lean
forward and whisper something to her as she passed; but she must have
guessed that she might be watched, for she passed on.

That afternoon it clouded over; the wind mounted to a gale, and the sea rose
until the craft was wallowing and rolling frightfully. Nearly everyone aboard
was sick; the air became foul and oppressive. For twenty-four hours I did not
leave my post in the conning tower, as both Olson and Bradley were sick.
Finally I found that I must get a little rest, and so I looked about for some one
to relieve me. Benson volunteered. He had not been sick, and assured me that
he was a former R.N. man and had been detailed for submarine duty for over
two years. I was glad that it was he, for I had considerable confidence in his
loyalty, and so it was with a feeling of security that I went below and lay
down.

I slept twelve hours straight, and when I awoke and discovered what I had
done, I lost no time in getting to the conning tower. There sat Benson as wide
awake as could be, and the compass showed that we were heading straight
into the west. The storm was still raging; nor did it abate its fury until the
fourth day. We were all pretty well done up and looked forward to the time
when we could go on deck and fill our lungs with fresh air. During the whole
four days I had not seen the girl, as she evidently kept closely to her room;
and during this time no untoward incident had occurred aboard the boat—a
fact which seemed to strengthen the web of circumstantial evidence about
her.

For six more days after the storm lessened we still had fairly rough weather;
nor did the sun once show himself during all that time. For the season—it
was now the middle of June—the storm was unusual; but being from southern
California, I was accustomed to unusual weather. In fact, I have discovered
that the world over, unusual weather prevails at all times of the year.

We kept steadily to our westward course, and as the U-33 was one of the
fastest submersibles we had ever turned out, I knew that we must be pretty
close to the North American coast. What puzzled me most was the fact that
for six days we had not sighted a single ship. It seemed remarkable that we
could cross the Atlantic almost to the coast of the American continent without
glimpsing smoke or sail, and at last I came to the conclusion that we were
way off our course, but whether to the north or to the south of it I could not
determine.

On the seventh day the sea lay comparatively calm at early dawn. There was
a slight haze upon the ocean which had cut off our view of the stars; but
conditions all pointed toward a clear morrow, and I was on deck anxiously
awaiting the rising of the sun. My eyes were glued upon the impenetrable
mist astern, for there in the east I should see the first glow of the rising sun
that would assure me we were still upon the right course. Gradually the
heavens lightened; but astern I could see no intenser glow that would indicate
the rising sun behind the mist. Bradley was standing at my side. Presently he
touched my arm.

“Look, captain,” he said, and pointed south.

I looked and gasped, for there directly to port I saw outlined through the haze
the red top of the rising sun. Hurrying to the tower, I looked at the compass. It
showed that we were holding steadily upon our westward course. Either the
sun was rising in the south, or the compass had been tampered with. The
conclusion was obvious.

I went back to Bradley and told him what I had discovered. “And,” I
concluded, “we can’t make another five hundred knots without oil; our
provisions are running low and so is our water. God only knows how far
south we have run.”

“There is nothing to do,” he replied, “other than to alter our course once
more toward the west; we must raise land soon or we shall all be lost.”

I told him to do so; and then I set to work improvising a crude sextant with
which we finally took our bearings in a rough and most unsatisfactory
manner; for when the work was done, we did not know how far from the truth
the result might be. It showed us to be about 20’ north and 30’ west—nearly
twenty-five hundred miles off our course. In short, if our reading was
anywhere near correct, we must have been traveling due south for six days.
Bradley now relieved Benson, for we had arranged our shifts so that the
latter and Olson now divided the nights, while Bradley and I alternated with
one another during the days.

I questioned both Olson and Benson closely in the matter of the compass; but
each stoutly maintained that no one had tampered with it during his tour of
duty. Benson gave me a knowing smile, as much as to say: “Well, you and I
know who did this.” Yet I could not believe that it was the girl.

We kept to our westerly course for several hours when the lookout’s cry
announced a sail. I ordered the U-33’s course altered, and we bore down
upon the stranger, for I had come to a decision which was the result of
necessity. We could not lie there in the middle of the Atlantic and starve to
death if there was any way out of it. The sailing ship saw us while we were
still a long way off, as was evidenced by her efforts to escape. There was
scarcely any wind, however, and her case was hopeless; so when we drew
near and signaled her to stop, she came into the wind and lay there with her
sails flapping idly. We moved in quite close to her. She was the Balmen of
Halmstad, Sweden, with a general cargo from Brazil for Spain.

I explained our circumstances to her skipper and asked for food, water and
oil; but when he found that we were not German, he became very angry and
abusive and started to draw away from us; but I was in no mood for any such
business. Turning toward Bradley, who was in the conning-tower, I snapped
out: “Gun-service on deck! To the diving stations!” We had no opportunity
for drill; but every man had been posted as to his duties, and the German
members of the crew understood that it was obedience or death for them, as
each was accompanied by a man with a pistol. Most of them, though, were
only too glad to obey me.

Bradley passed the order down into the ship and a moment later the gun-crew
clambered up the narrow ladder and at my direction trained their piece upon
the slow-moving Swede. “Fire a shot across her bow,” I instructed the gun-
captain.

Accept it from me, it didn’t take that Swede long to see the error of his way
and get the red and white pennant signifying “I understand” to the masthead.
Once again the sails flapped idly, and then I ordered him to lower a boat and
come after me. With Olson and a couple of the Englishmen I boarded the
ship, and from her cargo selected what we needed—oil, provisions and
water. I gave the master of the Balmen a receipt for what we took, together
with an affidavit signed by Bradley, Olson, and myself, stating briefly how
we had come into possession of the U-33 and the urgency of our need for
what we took. We addressed both to any British agent with the request that
the owners of the Balmen be reimbursed; but whether or not they were, I do
not know. [1]

[1] Late in July, 1916, an item in the shipping news mentioned a Swedish
sailing vessel, Balmen, Rio de Janiero to Barcelona, sunk by a German
raider sometime in June. A single survivor in an open boat was picked up off
the Cape Verde Islands, in a dying condition. He expired without giving any
details.

With water, food, and oil aboard, we felt that we had obtained a new lease of
life. Now, too, we knew definitely where we were, and I determined to make
for Georgetown, British Guiana—but I was destined to again suffer bitter
disappointment.

Six of us of the loyal crew had come on deck either to serve the gun or board
the Swede during our set-to with her; and now, one by one, we descended the
ladder into the centrale. I was the last to come, and when I reached the
bottom, I found myself looking into the muzzle of a pistol in the hands of
Baron Friedrich von Schoenvorts—I saw all my men lined up at one side
with the remaining eight Germans standing guard over them.

I couldn’t imagine how it had happened; but it had. Later I learned that they
had first overpowered Benson, who was asleep in his bunk, and taken his
pistol from him, and then had found it an easy matter to disarm the cook and
the remaining two Englishmen below. After that it had been comparatively
simple to stand at the foot of the ladder and arrest each individual as he
descended.
The first thing von Schoenvorts did was to send for me and announce that as
a pirate I was to be shot early the next morning. Then he explained that the U-
33 would cruise in these waters for a time, sinking neutral and enemy
shipping indiscriminately, and looking for one of the German raiders that was
supposed to be in these parts.

He didn’t shoot me the next morning as he had promised, and it has never
been clear to me why he postponed the execution of my sentence. Instead he
kept me ironed just as he had been; then he kicked Bradley out of my room
and took it all to himself.

We cruised for a long time, sinking many vessels, all but one by gunfire, but
we did not come across a German raider. I was surprised to note that von
Schoenvorts often permitted Benson to take command; but I reconciled this
by the fact that Benson appeared to know more of the duties of a submarine
commander than did any of the Stupid Germans.

Once or twice Lys passed me; but for the most part she kept to her room. The
first time she hesitated as though she wished to speak to me; but I did not
raise my head, and finally she passed on. Then one day came the word that
we were about to round the Horn and that von Schoenvorts had taken it into
his fool head to cruise up along the Pacific coast of North America and prey
upon all sorts and conditions of merchantmen.

“I’ll put the fear of God and the Kaiser into them,” he said.

The very first day we entered the South Pacific we had an adventure. It
turned out to be quite the most exciting adventure I had ever encountered. It
fell about this way. About eight bells of the forenoon watch I heard a hail
from the deck, and presently the footsteps of the entire ship’s company, from
the amount of noise I heard at the ladder. Some one yelled back to those who
had not yet reached the level of the deck: “It’s the raider, the German raider
Geier!”

I saw that we had reached the end of our rope. Below all was quiet—not a
man remained. A door opened at the end of the narrow hull, and presently
Nobs came trotting up to me. He licked my face and rolled over on his back,
reaching for me with his big, awkward paws. Then other footsteps sounded,
approaching me. I knew whose they were, and I looked straight down at the
flooring. The girl was coming almost at a run—she was at my side
immediately. “Here!” she cried. “Quick!” And she slipped something into my
hand. It was a key—the key to my irons. At my side she also laid a pistol,
and then she went on into the centrale. As she passed me, I saw that she
carried another pistol for herself. It did not take me long to liberate myself,
and then I was at her side. “How can I thank you?” I started; but she shut me
up with a word.

“Do not thank me,” she said coldly. “I do not care to hear your thanks or any
other expression from you. Do not stand there looking at me. I have given you
a chance to do something—now do it!” The last was a peremptory command
that made me jump.

Glancing up, I saw that the tower was empty, and I lost no time in clambering
up, looking about me. About a hundred yards off lay a small, swift cruiser-
raider, and above her floated the German man-of-war’s flag. A boat had just
been lowered, and I could see it moving toward us filled with officers and
men. The cruiser lay dead ahead. “My,” I thought, “what a wonderful targ—”
I stopped even thinking, so surprised and shocked was I by the boldness of
my imagery. The girl was just below me. I looked down on her wistfully.
Could I trust her? Why had she released me at this moment? I must! I must!
There was no other way. I dropped back below. “Ask Olson to step down
here, please,” I requested; “and don’t let anyone see you ask him.”

She looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face for the barest
fraction of a second, and then she turned and went up the ladder. A moment
later Olson returned, and the girl followed him. “Quick!” I whispered to the
big Irishman, and made for the bow compartment where the torpedo-tubes
are built into the boat; here, too, were the torpedoes. The girl accompanied
us, and when she saw the thing I had in mind, she stepped forward and lent a
hand to the swinging of the great cylinder of death and destruction into the
mouth of its tube. With oil and main strength we shoved the torpedo home and
shut the tube; then I ran back to the conning-tower, praying in my heart of
hearts that the U-33 had not swung her bow away from the prey. No, thank
God!
Never could aim have been truer. I signaled back to Olson: “Let ‘er go!” The
U-33 trembled from stem to stern as the torpedo shot from its tube. I saw the
white wake leap from her bow straight toward the enemy cruiser. A chorus of
hoarse yells arose from the deck of our own craft: I saw the officers stand
suddenly erect in the boat that was approaching us, and I heard loud cries and
curses from the raider. Then I turned my attention to my own business. Most
of the men on the submarine’s deck were standing in paralyzed fascination,
staring at the torpedo. Bradley happened to be looking toward the conning-
tower and saw me. I sprang on deck and ran toward him. “Quick!” I
whispered. “While they are stunned, we must overcome them.”

A German was standing near Bradley—just in front of him. The Englishman

struck the fellow a frantic blow upon the neck and at the same time snatched
his pistol from its holster. Von Schoenvorts had recovered from his first
surprise quickly and had turned toward the main hatch to investigate. I
covered him with my revolver, and at the same instant the torpedo struck the
raider, the terrific explosion drowning the German’s command to his men.

Bradley was now running from one to another of our men, and though some of
the Germans saw and heard him, they seemed too stunned for action.

Olson was below, so that there were only nine of us against eight Germans,
for the man Bradley had struck still lay upon the deck. Only two of us were
armed; but the heart seemed to have gone out of the boches, and they put up
but half-hearted resistance. Von Schoenvorts was the worst—he was fairly
frenzied with rage and chagrin, and he came charging for me like a mad bull,
and as he came he discharged his pistol. If he’d stopped long enough to take
aim, he might have gotten me; but his pace made him wild, so that not a shot
touched me, and then we clinched and went to the deck. This left two pistols,
which two of my own men were quick to appropriate. The Baron was no
match for me in a hand-to-hand encounter, and I soon had him pinned to the
deck and the life almost choked out of him.

A half-hour later things had quieted down, and all was much the same as
before the prisoners had revolted—only we kept a much closer watch on von
Schoenvorts. The Geier had sunk while we were still battling upon our deck,
and afterward we had drawn away toward the north, leaving the survivors to
the attention of the single boat which had been making its way toward us
when Olson launched the torpedo. I suppose the poor devils never reached
land, and if they did, they most probably perished on that cold and
unhospitable shore; but I couldn’t permit them aboard the U-33. We had all
the Germans we could take care of.

That evening the girl asked permission to go on deck. She said that she felt
the effects of long confinement below, and I readily granted her request. I
could not understand her, and I craved an opportunity to talk with her again in
an effort to fathom her and her intentions, and so I made it a point to follow
her up the ladder. It was a clear, cold, beautiful night. The sea was calm
except for the white water at our bows and the two long radiating swells
running far off into the distance upon either hand astern, forming a great V
which our propellers filled with choppy waves. Benson was in the tower, we
were bound for San Diego and all looked well.

Lys stood with a heavy blanket wrapped around her slender figure, and as I
approached her, she half turned toward me to see who it was. When she
recognized me, she immediately turned away.

“I want to thank you,” I said, “for your bravery and loyalty—you were
magnificent. I am sorry that you had reason before to think that I doubted
you.”

“You did doubt me,” she replied in a level voice. “You practically accused
me of aiding Baron von Schoenvorts. I can never forgive you.”

There was a great deal of finality in both her words and tone.

“I could not believe it,” I said; “and yet two of my men reported having seen
you in conversation with von Schoenvorts late at night upon two separate
occasions—after each of which some great damage was found done us in the
morning. I didn’t want to doubt you; but I carried all the responsibility of the
lives of these men, of the safety of the ship, of your life and mine. I had to
watch you, and I had to put you on your guard against a repetition of your
madness.”

She was looking at me now with those great eyes of hers, very wide and
round.
“Who told you that I spoke with Baron von Schoenvorts at night, or any other
time?” she asked.

“I cannot tell you, Lys,” I replied, “but it came to me from two different
sources.”

“Then two men have lied,” she asserted without heat. “I have not spoken to
Baron von Schoenvorts other than in your presence when first we came
aboard the U-33. And please, when you address me, remember that to others
than my intimates I am Miss La Rue.”

Did you ever get slapped in the face when you least expected it? No? Well,
then you do not know how I felt at that moment. I could feel the hot, red flush
surging up my neck, across my cheeks, over my ears, clear to my scalp. And
it made me love her all the more; it made me swear inwardly a thousand
solemn oaths that I would win her.
Chapter 4
For several days things went along in about the same course. I took our
position every morning with my crude sextant; but the results were always
most unsatisfactory. They always showed a considerable westing when I
knew that we had been sailing due north. I blamed my crude instrument, and
kept on. Then one afternoon the girl came to me.

“Pardon me,” she said, “but were I you, I should watch this man Benson—
especially when he is in charge.” I asked her what she meant, thinking I could
see the influence of von Schoenvorts raising a suspicion against one of my
most trusted men.

“If you will note the boat’s course a half-hour after Benson goes on duty,” she
said, “you will know what I mean, and you will understand why he prefers a
night watch. Possibly, too, you will understand some other things that have
taken place aboard.”

Then she went back to her room, thus ending the conversation. I waited until
half an hour after Benson had gone on duty, and then I went on deck, passing
through the conning-tower where Benson sat, and looking at the compass. It
showed that our course was north by west—that is, one point west of north,
which was, for our assumed position, about right. I was greatly relieved to
find that nothing was wrong, for the girl’s words had caused me considerable
apprehension. I was about to return to my room when a thought occurred to
me that again caused me to change my mind—and, incidentally, came near
proving my death-warrant.

When I had left the conning-tower little more than a half-hour since, the sea
had been breaking over the port bow, and it seemed to me quite improbable
that in so short a time an equally heavy sea could be deluging us from the
opposite side of the ship—winds may change quickly, but not a long, heavy
sea. There was only one other solution—since I left the tower, our course
had been altered some eight points. Turning quickly, I climbed out upon the
conning-tower. A single glance at the heavens confirmed my suspicions; the
constellations which should have been dead ahead were directly starboard.
We were sailing due west.

Just for an instant longer I stood there to check up my calculations—I wanted

to be quite sure before I accused Benson of perfidy, and about the only thing I
came near making quite sure of was death. I cannot see even now how I
escaped it. I was standing on the edge of the conning-tower, when a heavy
palm suddenly struck me between the shoulders and hurled me forward into
space. The drop to the triangular deck forward of the conning-tower might
easily have broken a leg for me, or I might have slipped off onto the deck and
rolled overboard; but fate was upon my side, as I was only slightly bruised.
As I came to my feet, I heard the conning-tower cover slam. There is a ladder
which leads from the deck to the top of the tower. Up this I scrambled, as fast
as I could go; but Benson had the cover tight before I reached it.

I stood there a moment in dumb consternation. What did the fellow intend?
What was going on below? If Benson was a traitor, how could I know that
there were not other traitors among us? I cursed myself for my folly in going
out upon the deck, and then this thought suggested another—a hideous one:
who was it that had really been responsible for my being here?

Thinking to attract attention from inside the craft, I again ran down the ladder
and onto the small deck only to find that the steel covers of the conning-tower
windows were shut, and then I leaned with my back against the tower and
cursed myself for a gullible idiot.

I glanced at the bow. The sea seemed to be getting heavier, for every wave
now washed completely over the lower deck. I watched them for a moment,
and then a sudden chill pervaded my entire being. It was not the chill of wet
clothing, or the dashing spray which drenched my face; no, it was the chill of
the hand of death upon my heart. In an instant I had turned the last corner of
life’s highway and was looking God Almighty in the face—the U-33 was
being slowly submerged!

It would be difficult, even impossible, to set down in writing my sensations

at that moment. All I can particularly recall is that I laughed, though neither
from a spirit of bravado nor from hysteria. And I wanted to smoke. Lord!
how I did want to smoke; but that was out of the question.
I watched the water rise until the little deck I stood on was awash, and then I
clambered once more to the top of the conning-tower. From the very slow
submergence of the boat I knew that Benson was doing the entire trick alone
—that he was merely permitting the diving-tanks to fill and that the diving-
rudders were not in use. The throbbing of the engines ceased, and in its stead
came the steady vibration of the electric motors. The water was halfway up
the conning-tower! I had perhaps five minutes longer on the deck. I tried to
decide what I should do after I was washed away. Should I swim until
exhaustion claimed me, or should I give up and end the agony at the first
plunge?

From below came two muffled reports. They sounded not unlike shots. Was
Benson meeting with resistance? Personally it could mean little to me, for
even though my men might overcome the enemy, none would know of my
predicament until long after it was too late to succor me. The top of the
conning-tower was now awash. I clung to the wireless mast, while the great
waves surged sometimes completely over me.

I knew the end was near and, almost involuntarily, I did that which I had not
done since childhood—I prayed. After that I felt better.

I clung and waited, but the water rose no higher.

Instead it receded. Now the top of the conning-tower received only the crests
of the higher waves; now the little triangular deck below became visible!
What had occurred within? Did Benson believe me already gone, and was he
emerging because of that belief, or had he and his forces been vanquished?
The suspense was more wearing than that which I had endured while waiting
for dissolution. Presently the main deck came into view, and then the
conning-tower opened behind me, and I turned to look into the anxious face
of Bradley. An expression of relief overspread his features.

“Thank God, man!” was all he said as he reached forth and dragged me into
the tower. I was cold and numb and rather all in. Another few minutes would
have done for me, I am sure, but the warmth of the interior helped to revive
me, aided and abetted by some brandy which Bradley poured down my
throat, from which it nearly removed the membrane. That brandy would have
revived a corpse.
When I got down into the centrale, I saw the Germans lined up on one side
with a couple of my men with pistols standing over them. Von Schoenvorts
was among them. On the floor lay Benson, moaning, and beyond him stood
the girl, a revolver in one hand. I looked about, bewildered.

“What has happened down here?” I asked. “Tell me!”

Bradley replied. “You see the result, sir,” he said. “It might have been a very
different result but for Miss La Rue. We were all asleep. Benson had
relieved the guard early in the evening; there was no one to watch him—no
one but Miss La Rue. She felt the submergence of the boat and came out of
her room to investigate. She was just in time to see Benson at the diving
rudders. When he saw her, he raised his pistol and fired point-blank at her,
but he missed and she fired—and didn’t miss. The two shots awakened
everyone, and as our men were armed, the result was inevitable as you see it;
but it would have been very different had it not been for Miss La Rue. It was
she who closed the diving-tank sea-cocks and roused Olson and me, and had
the pumps started to empty them.”

And there I had been thinking that through her machinations I had been lured
to the deck and to my death! I could have gone on my knees to her and begged
her forgiveness—or at least I could have, had I not been Anglo-Saxon. As it
was, I could only remove my soggy cap and bow and mumble my
appreciation. She made no reply—only turned and walked very rapidly
toward her room. Could I have heard aright? Was it really a sob that came
floating back to me through the narrow aisle of the U-33?

Benson died that night. He remained defiant almost to the last; but just before
he went out, he motioned to me, and I leaned over to catch the faintly
whispered words.

“I did it alone,” he said. “I did it because I hate you—I hate all your kind. I
was kicked out of your shipyard at Santa Monica. I was locked out of
California. I am an I. W. W. I became a German agent—not because I love
them, for I hate them too—but because I wanted to injure Americans, whom I
hated more. I threw the wireless apparatus overboard. I destroyed the
chronometer and the sextant. I devised a scheme for varying the compass to
suit my wishes. I told Wilson that I had seen the girl talking with von
Schoenvorts, and I made the poor egg think he had seen her doing the same
thing. I am sorry—sorry that my plans failed. I hate you.”

He didn’t die for a half-hour after that; nor did he speak again—aloud; but
just a few seconds before he went to meet his Maker, his lips moved in a
faint whisper; and as I leaned closer to catch his words, what do you suppose
I heard? “Now—I—lay me—down—to—sleep” That was all; Benson was
dead. We threw his body overboard.

The wind of that night brought on some pretty rough weather with a lot of
black clouds which persisted for several days. We didn’t know what course
we had been holding, and there was no way of finding out, as we could no
longer trust the compass, not knowing what Benson had done to it. The long
and the short of it was that we cruised about aimlessly until the sun came out
again. I’ll never forget that day or its surprises. We reckoned, or rather
guessed, that we were somewhere off the coast of Peru. The wind, which had
been blowing fitfully from the east, suddenly veered around into the south,
and presently we felt a sudden chill.

“Peru!” snorted Olson. “When were yez after smellin’ iceber-rgs off Peru?”

Icebergs! “Icebergs, nothin’!” exclaimed one of the Englishmen. “Why, man,

they don’t come north of fourteen here in these waters.”

“Then,” replied Olson, “ye’re sout’ of fourteen, me b’y.”

We thought he was crazy; but he wasn’t, for that afternoon we sighted a great
berg south of us, and we’d been running north, we thought, for days. I can tell
you we were a discouraged lot; but we got a faint thrill of hope early the next
morning when the lookout bawled down the open hatch: “Land! Land
northwest by west!”

I think we were all sick for the sight of land. I know that I was; but my
interest was quickly dissipated by the sudden illness of three of the Germans.
Almost simultaneously they commenced vomiting. They couldn’t suggest any
explanation for it. I asked them what they had eaten, and found they had eaten
nothing other than the food cooked for all of us. “Have you drunk anything?” I
asked, for I knew that there was liquor aboard, and medicines in the same
locker.

“Only water,” moaned one of them. “We all drank water together this
morning. We opened a new tank. Maybe it was the water.”

I started an investigation which revealed a terrifying condition— some one,

probably Benson, had poisoned all the running water on the ship. It would
have been worse, though, had land not been in sight. The sight of land filled
us with renewed hope.

Our course had been altered, and we were rapidly approaching what
appeared to be a precipitous headland. Cliffs, seemingly rising
perpendicularly out of the sea, faded away into the mist upon either hand as
we approached. The land before us might have been a continent, so mighty
appeared the shoreline; yet we knew that we must be thousands of miles from
the nearest western land-mass—New Zealand or Australia.

We took our bearings with our crude and inaccurate instruments; we searched
the chart; we cudgeled our brains; and at last it was Bradley who suggested a
solution. He was in the tower and watching the compass, to which he called
my attention. The needle was pointing straight toward the land. Bradley
swung the helm hard to starboard. I could feel the U-33 respond, and yet the
arrow still clung straight and sure toward the distant cliffs.

“What do you make of it?” I asked him.

“Did you ever hear of Caproni?” he asked.

“An early Italian navigator?” I returned.

“Yes; he followed Cook about 1721. He is scarcely mentioned even by

contemporaneous historians—probably because he got into political
difficulties on his return to Italy. It was the fashion to scoff at his claims, but I
recall reading one of his works—his only one, I believe—in which he
described a new continent in the south seas, a continent made up of `some
strange metal’ which attracted the compass; a rockbound, inhospitable coast,
without beach or harbor, which extended for hundreds of miles. He could
make no landing; nor in the several days he cruised about it did he see sign of
life. He called it Caprona and sailed away. I believe, sir, that we are looking
upon the coast of Caprona, uncharted and forgotten for two hundred years.”

“If you are right, it might account for much of the deviation of the compass
during the past two days,” I suggested. “Caprona has been luring us upon her
deadly rocks. Well, we’ll accept her challenge. We’ll land upon Caprona.
Along that long front there must be a vulnerable spot. We will find it,
Bradley, for we must find it. We must find water on Caprona, or we must
die.”

And so we approached the coast upon which no living eyes had ever rested.
Straight from the ocean’s depths rose towering cliffs, shot with brown and
blues and greens—withered moss and lichen and the verdigris of copper, and
everywhere the rusty ocher of iron pyrites. The cliff-tops, though ragged,
were of such uniform height as to suggest the boundaries of a great plateau,
and now and again we caught glimpses of verdure topping the rocky
escarpment, as though bush or jungle-land had pushed outward from a lush
vegetation farther inland to signal to an unseeing world that Caprona lived
and joyed in life beyond her austere and repellent coast.

But metaphor, however poetic, never slaked a dry throat. To enjoy Caprona’s
romantic suggestions we must have water, and so we came in close, always
sounding, and skirted the shore. As close in as we dared cruise, we found
fathomless depths, and always the same undented coastline of bald cliffs. As
darkness threatened, we drew away and lay well off the coast all night. We
had not as yet really commenced to suffer for lack of water; but I knew that it
would not be long before we did, and so at the first streak of dawn I moved
in again and once more took up the hopeless survey of the forbidding coast.

Toward noon we discovered a beach, the first we had seen. It was a narrow
strip of sand at the base of a part of the cliff that seemed lower than any we
had before scanned. At its foot, half buried in the sand, lay great boulders,
mute evidence that in a bygone age some mighty natural force had crumpled
Caprona’s barrier at this point. It was Bradley who first called our attention
to a strange object lying among the boulders above the surf.

“Looks like a man,” he said, and passed his glasses to me.

I looked long and carefully and could have sworn that the thing I saw was the
sprawled figure of a human being. Miss La Rue was on deck with us. I turned
and asked her to go below. Without a word she did as I bade. Then I
stripped, and as I did so, Nobs looked questioningly at me. He had been wont
at home to enter the surf with me, and evidently he had not forgotten it.

“What are you going to do, sir?” asked Olson.

“I’m going to see what that thing is on shore,” I replied. “If it’s a man, it may
mean that Caprona is inhabited, or it may merely mean that some poor devils
were shipwrecked here. I ought to be able to tell from the clothing which is
more near the truth.

“How about sharks?” queried Olson. “Sure, you ought to carry a knoife.”

“Here you are, sir,” cried one of the men.

It was a long slim blade he offered—one that I could carry between my teeth
—and so I accepted it gladly.

“Keep close in,” I directed Bradley, and then I dived over the side and struck
out for the narrow beach. There was another splash directly behind me, and
turning my head, I saw faithful old Nobs swimming valiantly in my wake.

The surf was not heavy, and there was no undertow, so we made shore easily,
effecting an equally easy landing. The beach was composed largely of small
stones worn smooth by the action of water. There was little sand, though from
the deck of the U-33 the beach had appeared to be all sand, and I saw no
evidences of mollusca or crustacea such as are common to all beaches I have
previously seen. I attribute this to the fact of the smallness of the beach, the
enormous depth of surrounding water and the great distance at which
Caprona lies from her nearest neighbor.

As Nobs and I approached the recumbent figure farther up the beach, I was
appraised by my nose that whether or not, the thing had once been organic
and alive, but that for some time it had been dead. Nobs halted, sniffed and
growled. A little later he sat down upon his haunches, raised his muzzle to
the heavens and bayed forth a most dismal howl. I shied a small stone at him
and bade him shut up—his uncanny noise made me nervous. When I had
come quite close to the thing, I still could not say whether it had been man or
beast. The carcass was badly swollen and partly decomposed. There was no
sign of clothing upon or about it. A fine, brownish hair covered the chest and
abdomen, and the face, the palms of the hands, the feet, the shoulders and
back were practically hairless. The creature must have been about the height
of a fair sized man; its features were similar to those of a man; yet had it been
a man?

I could not say, for it resembled an ape no more than it did a man. Its large
toes protruded laterally as do those of the semiarboreal peoples of Borneo,
the Philippines and other remote regions where low types still persist. The
countenance might have been that of a cross between Pithecanthropus, the
Java ape-man, and a daughter of the Piltdown race of prehistoric Sussex. A
wooden cudgel lay beside the corpse.

Now this fact set me thinking. There was no wood of any description in sight.
There was nothing about the beach to suggest a wrecked mariner. There was
absolutely nothing about the body to suggest that it might possibly in life have
known a maritime experience. It was the body of a low type of man or a high
type of beast. In neither instance would it have been of a seafaring race.
Therefore I deduced that it was native to Caprona—that it lived inland, and
that it had fallen or been hurled from the cliffs above. Such being the case,
Caprona was inhabitable, if not inhabited, by man; but how to reach the
inhabitable interior! That was the question. A closer view of the cliffs than
had been afforded me from the deck of the U-33 only confirmed my
conviction that no mortal man could scale those perpendicular heights; there
was not a finger-hold, not a toe-hold, upon them. I turned away baffled.

Nobs and I met with no sharks upon our return journey to the submarine. My
report filled everyone with theories and speculations, and with renewed
hope and determination. They all reasoned along the same lines that I had
reasoned—the conclusions were obvious, but not the water. We were now
thirstier than ever.

The balance of that day we spent in continuing a minute and fruitless

exploration of the monotonous coast. There was not another break in the
frowning cliffs—not even another minute patch of pebbly beach. As the sun
fell, so did our spirits. I had tried to make advances to the girl again; but she
would have none of me, and so I was not only thirsty but otherwise sad and
downhearted. I was glad when the new day broke the hideous spell of a
sleepless night.

The morning’s search brought us no shred of hope. Caprona was impregnable

—that was the decision of all; yet we kept on. It must have been about two
bells of the afternoon watch that Bradley called my attention to the branch of
a tree, with leaves upon it, floating on the sea. “It may have been carried
down to the ocean by a river,” he suggested. “Yes, ” I replied, “it may have;
it may have tumbled or been thrown off the top of one of these cliffs.”

Bradley’s face fell. “I thought of that, too,” he replied, “but I wanted to

believe the other.”

“Right you are!” I cried. “We must believe the other until we prove it false.
We can’t afford to give up heart now, when we need heart most. The branch
was carried down by a river, and we are going to find that river.” I smote my
open palm with a clenched fist, to emphasize a determination unsupported by
hope. “There!” I cried suddenly. “See that, Bradley?” And I pointed at a spot
closer to shore. “See that, man!” Some flowers and grasses and another leafy
branch floated toward us. We both scanned the water and the coastline.
Bradley evidently discovered something, or at least thought that he had. He
called down for a bucket and a rope, and when they were passed up to him,
he lowered the former into the sea and drew it in filled with water. Of this he
took a taste, and straightening up, looked into my eyes with an expression of
elation—as much as to say “I told you so!”

“This water is warm,” he announced, “and fresh!”

I grabbed the bucket and tasted its contents. The water was very warm, and it
was fresh, but there was a most unpleasant taste to it.

“Did you ever taste water from a stagnant pool full of tadpoles?” Bradley
asked.

“That’s it,” I exclaimed, “—that’s just the taste exactly, though I haven’t
experienced it since boyhood; but how can water from a flowing stream,
taste thus, and what the dickens makes it so warm? It must be at least 70 or
80 Fahrenheit, possibly higher.”

“Yes,” agreed Bradley, “I should say higher; but where does it come from?”

“That is easily discovered now that we have found it,” I answered. “It can’t
come from the ocean; so it must come from the land. All that we have to do is
follow it, and sooner or later we shall come upon its source.”

We were already rather close in; but I ordered the U-33’s prow turned
inshore and we crept slowly along, constantly dipping up the water and
tasting it to assure ourselves that we didn’t get outside the freshwater current.
There was a very light off-shore wind and scarcely any breakers, so that the
approach to the shore was continued without finding bottom; yet though we
were already quite close, we saw no indication of any indention in the coast
from which even a tiny brooklet might issue, and certainly no mouth of a
large river such as this must necessarily be to freshen the ocean even two
hundred yards from shore. The tide was running out, and this, together with
the strong flow of the freshwater current, would have prevented our going
against the cliffs even had we not been under power; as it was we had to
buck the combined forces in order to hold our position at all. We came up to
within twenty-five feet of the sheer wall, which loomed high above us. There
was no break in its forbidding face. As we watched the face of the waters
and searched the cliff’s high face, Olson suggested that the fresh water might
come from a submarine geyser. This, he said, would account for its heat; but
even as he spoke a bush, covered thickly with leaves and flowers, bubbled to
the surface and floated off astern.

“Flowering shrubs don’t thrive in the subterranean caverns from which

geysers spring,” suggested Bradley.

Olson shook his head. “It beats me,” he said.

“I’ve got it!” I exclaimed suddenly. “Look there!” And I pointed at the base
of the cliff ahead of us, which the receding tide was gradually exposing to
our view. They all looked, and all saw what I had seen—the top of a dark
opening in the rock, through which water was pouring out into the sea. “It’s
the subterranean channel of an inland river,” I cried. “It flows through a land
covered with vegetation—and therefore a land upon which the sun shines. No
subterranean caverns produce any order of plant life even remotely
resembling what we have seen disgorged by this river. Beyond those cliffs
lie fertile lands and fresh water—perhaps, game!”

“Yis, sir,” said Olson, “behoind the cliffs! Ye spoke a true word, sir—
behoind!”

Bradley laughed—a rather sorry laugh, though. “You might as well call our
attention to the fact, sir,” he said, “that science has indicated that there is
fresh water and vegetation on Mars.”

“Not at all,” I rejoined. “A U-boat isn’t constructed to navigate space, but it

is designed to travel below the surface of the water.”

“You’d be after sailin’ into that blank pocket?” asked Olson.

“I would, Olson,” I replied. “We haven’t one chance for life in a hundred
thousand if we don’t find food and water upon Caprona. This water coming
out of the cliff is not salt; but neither is it fit to drink, though each of us has
drunk. It is fair to assume that inland the river is fed by pure streams, that
there are fruits and herbs and game. Shall we lie out here and die of thirst
and starvation with a land of plenty possibly only a few hundred yards away?
We have the means for navigating a subterranean river. Are we too cowardly
to utilize this means?”

“Be afther goin’ to it,” said Olson.

“I’m willing to see it through,” agreed Bradley.

“Then under the bottom, wi’ the best o’ luck an’ give ‘em hell!” cried a
young fellow who had been in the trenches.

“To the diving-stations!” I commanded, and in less than a minute the deck
was deserted, the conning-tower covers had slammed to and the U-33 was
submerging—possibly for the last time. I know that I had this feeling, and I
think that most of the others did.
As we went down, I sat in the tower with the searchlight projecting its
seemingly feeble rays ahead. We submerged very slowly and without
headway more than sufficient to keep her nose in the right direction, and as
we went down, I saw outlined ahead of us the black opening in the great cliff.
It was an opening that would have admitted a half-dozen U-boats at one and
the same time, roughly cylindrical in contour—and dark as the pit of
perdition.

As I gave the command which sent the U-33 slowly ahead, I could not but
feel a certain uncanny presentiment of evil. Where were we going? What lay
at the end of this great sewer? Had we bidden farewell forever to the sunlight
and life, or were there before us dangers even greater than those which we
now faced? I tried to keep my mind from vain imagining by calling
everything which I observed to the eager ears below. I was the eyes of the
whole company, and I did my best not to fail them. We had advanced a
hundred yards, perhaps, when our first danger confronted us. Just ahead was
a sharp right-angle turn in the tunnel. I could see the river’s flotsam hurtling
against the rocky wall upon the left as it was driven on by the mighty current,
and I feared for the safety of the U-33 in making so sharp a turn under such
adverse conditions; but there was nothing for it but to try. I didn’t warn my
fellows of the danger—it could have but caused them useless apprehension,
for if we were to be smashed against the rocky wall, no power on earth could
avert the quick end that would come to us. I gave the command full speed
ahead and went charging toward the menace. I was forced to approach the
dangerous left-hand wall in order to make the turn, and I depended upon the
power of the motors to carry us through the surging waters in safety. Well, we
made it; but it was a narrow squeak. As we swung around, the full force of
the current caught us and drove the stern against the rocks; there was a thud
which sent a tremor through the whole craft, and then a moment of nasty
grinding as the steel hull scraped the rock wall. I expected momentarily the
inrush of waters that would seal our doom; but presently from below came
the welcome word that all was well.

In another fifty yards there was a second turn, this time toward the left! but it
was more of a gentle curve, and we took it without trouble. After that it was
plain sailing, though as far as I could know, there might be most anything
ahead of us, and my nerves strained to the snapping-point every instant. After
the second turn the channel ran comparatively straight for between one
hundred and fifty and two hundred yards. The waters grew suddenly lighter,
and my spirits rose accordingly. I shouted down to those below that I saw
daylight ahead, and a great shout of thanksgiving reverberated through the
ship. A moment later we emerged into sunlit water, and immediately I raised
the periscope and looked about me upon the strangest landscape I had ever
seen.

We were in the middle of a broad and now sluggish river the banks of which
were lined by giant, arboraceous ferns, raising their mighty fronds fifty, one
hundred, two hundred feet into the quiet air. Close by us something rose to
the surface of the river and dashed at the periscope. I had a vision of wide,
distended jaws, and then all was blotted out. A shiver ran down into the
tower as the thing closed upon the periscope. A moment later it was gone,
and I could see again. Above the trees there soared into my vision a huge
thing on batlike wings—a creature large as a large whale, but fashioned more
after the order of a lizard. Then again something charged the periscope and
blotted out the mirror. I will confess that I was almost gasping for breath as I
gave the commands to emerge. Into what sort of strange land had fate guided
us?

The instant the deck was awash, I opened the conning-tower hatch and
stepped out. In another minute the deck-hatch lifted, and those who were not
on duty below streamed up the ladder, Olson bringing Nobs under one arm.
For several minutes no one spoke; I think they must each have been as
overcome by awe as was I. All about us was a flora and fauna as strange and
wonderful to us as might have been those upon a distant planet had we
suddenly been miraculously transported through ether to an unknown world.
Even the grass upon the nearer bank was unearthly—lush and high it grew,
and each blade bore upon its tip a brilliant flower— violet or yellow or
carmine or blue—making as gorgeous a sward as human imagination might
conceive. But the life! It teemed. The tall, fernlike trees were alive with
monkeys, snakes, and lizards. Huge insects hummed and buzzed hither and
thither. Mighty forms could be seen moving upon the ground in the thick
forest, while the bosom of the river wriggled with living things, and above
flapped the wings of gigantic creatures such as we are taught have been
extinct throughout countless ages.
“Look!” cried Olson. “Would you look at the giraffe comin’ up out o’ the
bottom of the say?” We looked in the direction he pointed and saw a long,
glossy neck surmounted by a small head rising above the surface of the river.
Presently the back of the creature was exposed, brown and glossy as the
water dripped from it. It turned its eyes upon us, opened its lizard-like mouth,
emitted a shrill hiss and came for us. The thing must have been sixteen or
eighteen feet in length and closely resembled pictures I had seen of restored
plesiosaurs of the lower Jurassic. It charged us as savagely as a mad bull,
and one would have thought it intended to destroy and devour the mighty U-
boat, as I verily believe it did intend.

We were moving slowly up the river as the creature bore down upon us with
distended jaws. The long neck was far outstretched, and the four flippers
with which it swam were working with powerful strokes, carrying it forward
at a rapid pace. When it reached the craft’s side, the jaws closed upon one of
the stanchions of the deck rail and tore it from its socket as though it had been
a toothpick stuck in putty. At this exhibition of titanic strength I think we all
simultaneously stepped backward, and Bradley drew his revolver and fired.
The bullet struck the thing in the neck, just above its body; but instead of
disabling it, merely increased its rage. Its hissing rose to a shrill scream as it
raised half its body out of water onto the sloping sides of the hull of the U-33
and endeavored to scramble upon the deck to devour us. A dozen shots rang
out as we who were armed drew our pistols and fired at the thing; but though
struck several times, it showed no signs of succumbing and only floundered
farther aboard the submarine.

I had noticed that the girl had come on deck and was standing not far behind
me, and when I saw the danger to which we were all exposed, I turned and
forced her toward the hatch. We had not spoken for some days, and we did
not speak now; but she gave me a disdainful look, which was quite as
eloquent as words, and broke loose from my grasp. I saw I could do nothing
with her unless I exerted force, and so I turned with my back toward her that I
might be in a position to shield her from the strange reptile should it really
succeed in reaching the deck; and as I did so I saw the thing raise one flipper
over the rail, dart its head forward and with the quickness of lightning seize
upon one of the boches. I ran forward, discharging my pistol into the
creature’s body in an effort to force it to relinquish its prey; but I might as
profitably have shot at the sun.

Shrieking and screaming, the German was dragged from the deck, and the
moment the reptile was clear of the boat, it dived beneath the surface of the
water with its terrified prey. I think we were all more or less shaken by the
frightfulness of the tragedy—until Olson remarked that the balance of power
now rested where it belonged. Following the death of Benson we had been
nine and nine—nine Germans and nine “Allies,” as we called ourselves, now
there were but eight Germans. We never counted the girl on either side, I
suppose because she was a girl, though we knew well enough now that she
was ours.

And so Olson’s remark helped to clear the atmosphere for the Allies at least,
and then our attention was once more directed toward the river, for around us
there had sprung up a perfect bedlam of screams and hisses and a seething
caldron of hideous reptiles, devoid of fear and filled only with hunger and
with rage. They clambered, squirmed and wriggled to the deck, forcing us
steadily backward, though we emptied our pistols into them. There were all
sorts and conditions of horrible things—huge, hideous, grotesque, monstrous
—a veritable Mesozoic nightmare. I saw that the girl was gotten below as
quickly as possible, and she took Nobs with her—poor Nobs had nearly
barked his head off; and I think, too, that for the first time since his littlest
puppyhood he had known fear; nor can I blame him. After the girl I sent
Bradley and most of the Allies and then the Germans who were on deck—
von Schoenvorts being still in irons below.

The creatures were approaching perilously close before I dropped through

the hatchway and slammed down the cover. Then I went into the tower and
ordered full speed ahead, hoping to distance the fearsome things; but it was
useless. Not only could any of them easily outdistance the U-33, but the
further upstream we progressed the greater the number of our besiegers, until
fearful of navigating a strange river at high speed, I gave orders to reduce
and moved slowly and majestically through the plunging, hissing mass. I was
mighty glad that our entrance into the interior of Caprona had been inside a
submarine rather than in any other form of vessel. I could readily understand
how it might have been that Caprona had been invaded in the past by
venturesome navigators without word of it ever reaching the outside world,
for I can assure you that only by submarine could man pass up that great
sluggish river, alive.

We proceeded up the river for some forty miles before darkness overtook us.
I was afraid to submerge and lie on the bottom overnight for fear that the mud
might be deep enough to hold us, and as we could not hold with the anchor, I
ran in close to shore, and in a brief interim of attack from the reptiles we
made fast to a large tree. We also dipped up some of the river water and
found it, though quite warm, a little sweeter than before. We had food enough,
and with the water we were all quite refreshed; but we missed fresh meat. It
had been weeks, now, since we had tasted it, and the sight of the reptiles
gave me an idea—that a steak or two from one of them might not be bad
eating. So I went on deck with a rifle, twenty of which were aboard the U-33.
At sight of me a huge thing charged and climbed to the deck. I retreated to the
top of the conning-tower, and when it had raised its mighty bulk to the level
of the little deck on which I stood, I let it have a bullet right between the
eyes.

The thing stopped then and looked at me a moment as much as to say: “Why
this thing has a stinger! I must be careful.” And then it reached out its long
neck and opened its mighty jaws and grabbed for me; but I wasn’t there. I had
tumbled backward into the tower, and I mighty near killed myself doing it.
When I glanced up, that little head on the end of its long neck was coming
straight down on top of me, and once more I tumbled into greater safety,
sprawling upon the floor of the centrale.

Olson was looking up, and seeing what was poking about in the tower, ran
for an ax; nor did he hesitate a moment when he returned with one, but sprang
up the ladder and commenced chopping away at that hideous face. The thing
didn’t have sufficient brainpan to entertain more than a single idea at once.
Though chopped and hacked, and with a bullethole between its eyes, it still
persisted madly in its attempt to get inside the tower and devour Olson,
though its body was many times the diameter of the hatch; nor did it cease its
efforts until after Olson had succeeded in decapitating it. Then the two men
went on deck through the main hatch, and while one kept watch, the other cut
a hind quarter off Plesiosaurus Olsoni, as Bradley dubbed the thing.
Meantime Olson cut off the long neck, saying that it would make fine soup.
By the time we had cleared away the blood and refuse in the tower, the cook
had juicy steaks and a steaming broth upon the electric stove, and the aroma
arising from P. Olsoni filled us an with a hitherto unfelt admiration for him
and all his kind.
Chapter 5
The steaks we had that night, and they were fine; and the following morning
we tasted the broth. It seemed odd to be eating a creature that should, by all
the laws of paleontology, have been extinct for several million years. It gave
one a feeling of newness that was almost embarrassing, although it didn’t
seem to embarrass our appetites. Olson ate until I thought he would burst.

The girl ate with us that night at the little officers’ mess just back of the
torpedo compartment. The narrow table was unfolded; the four stools were
set out; and for the first time in days we sat down to eat, and for the first time
in weeks we had something to eat other than the monotony of the short rations
of an impoverished U-boat. Nobs sat between the girl and me and was fed
with morsels of the Plesiosaurus steak, at the risk of forever contaminating
his manners. He looked at me sheepishly all the time, for he knew that no
well-bred dog should eat at table; but the poor fellow was so wasted from
improper food that I couldn’t enjoy my own meal had he been denied an
immediate share in it; and anyway Lys wanted to feed him. So there you are.

Lys was coldly polite to me and sweetly gracious to Bradley and Olson. She
wasn’t of the gushing type, I knew; so I didn’t expect much from her and was
duly grateful for the few morsels of attention she threw upon the floor to me.
We had a pleasant meal, with only one unfortunate occurrence—when Olson
suggested that possibly the creature we were eating was the same one that ate
the German. It was some time before we could persuade the girl to continue
her meal, but at last Bradley prevailed upon her, pointing out that we had
come upstream nearly forty miles since the boche had been seized, and that
during that time we had seen literally thousands of these denizens of the river,
indicating that the chances were very remote that this was the same
Plesiosaur. “And anyway,” he concluded, “it was only a scheme of Mr.
Olson’s to get all the steaks for himself.”

We discussed the future and ventured opinions as to what lay before us; but
we could only theorize at best, for none of us knew. If the whole land was
infested by these and similar horrid monsters, life would be impossible upon
it, and we decided that we would only search long enough to find and take
aboard fresh water and such meat and fruits as might be safely procurable
and then retrace our way beneath the cliffs to the open sea.

And so at last we turned into our narrow bunks, hopeful, happy and at peace
with ourselves, our lives and our God, to awaken the following morning
refreshed and still optimistic. We had an easy time getting away—as we
learned later, because the saurians do not commence to feed until late in the
morning. From noon to midnight their curve of activity is at its height, while
from dawn to about nine o’clock it is lowest. As a matter of fact, we didn’t
see one of them all the time we were getting under way, though I had the
cannon raised to the deck and manned against an assault. I hoped, but I was
none too sure, that shells might discourage them. The trees were full of
monkeys of all sizes and shades, and once we thought we saw a manlike
creature watching us from the depth of the forest.

Shortly after we resumed our course upstream, we saw the mouth of another
and smaller river emptying into the main channel from the south—that is,
upon our right; and almost immediately after we came upon a large island
five or six miles in length; and at fifty miles there was a still larger river than
the last coming in from the northwest, the course of the main stream having
now changed to northeast by southwest. The water was quite free from
reptiles, and the vegetation upon the banks of the river had altered to more
open and parklike forest, with eucalyptus and acacia mingled with a
scattering of tree ferns, as though two distinct periods of geologic time had
overlapped and merged. The grass, too, was less flowering, though there
were still gorgeous patches mottling the greensward; and lastly, the fauna
was less multitudinous.

Six or seven miles farther, and the river widened considerably; before us
opened an expanse of water to the farther horizon, and then we sailed out
upon an inland sea so large that only a shoreline upon our side was visible to
us. The waters all about us were alive with life. There were still a few
reptiles; but there were fish by the thousands, by the millions.

The water of the inland sea was very warm, almost hot, and the atmosphere
was hot and heavy above it. It seemed strange that beyond the buttressed
walls of Caprona icebergs floated and the south wind was biting, for only a
gentle breeze moved across the face of these living waters, and that was
damp and warm. Gradually, we commenced to divest ourselves of our
clothing, retaining only sufficient for modesty; but the sun was not hot. It was
more the heat of a steam-room than of an oven.

We coasted up the shore of the lake in a north-westerly direction, sounding

all the time. We found the lake deep and the bottom rocky and steeply
shelving toward the center, and once when I moved straight out from shore to
take other soundings we could find no bottom whatsoever. In open spaces
along the shore we caught occasional glimpses of the distant cliffs, and here
they appeared only a trifle less precipitous than those which bound Caprona
on the seaward side. My theory is that in a far distant era Caprona was a
mighty mountain—perhaps the world’s mightiest volcanic action blew off the
entire crest, blew thousands of feet of the mountain upward and outward and
onto the surrounding continent, leaving a great crater; and then, possibly, the
continent sank as ancient continents have been known to do, leaving only the
summit of Caprona above the sea. The encircling walls, the central lake, the
hot springs which feed the lake, all point to a conclusion, and the fauna and
the flora bear indisputable evidence that Caprona was once part of some
great land-mass.

As we cruised up along the coast, the landscape continued a more or less

open forest, with here and there a small plain where we saw animals grazing.
With my glass I could make out a species of large red deer, some antelope
and what appeared to be a species of horse; and once I saw the shaggy form
of what might have been a monstrous bison. Here was game a plenty! There
seemed little danger of starving upon Caprona. The game, however, seemed
wary; for the instant the animals discovered us, they threw up their heads and
tails and went cavorting off, those farther inland following the example of the
others until all were lost in the mazes of the distant forest. Only the great,
shaggy ox stood his ground. With lowered head he watched us until we had
passed, and then continued feeding.

About twenty miles up the coast from the mouth of the river we encountered
low cliffs of sandstone, broken and tortured evidence of the great upheaval
which had torn Caprona asunder in the past, intermingling upon a common
level the rock formations of widely separated eras, fusing some and leaving
others untouched.
We ran along beside them for a matter of ten miles, arriving off a broad cleft
which led into what appeared to be another lake. As we were in search of
pure water, we did not wish to overlook any portion of the coast, and so after
sounding and finding that we had ample depth, I ran the U-33 between
headlands into as pretty a landlocked harbor as sailormen could care to see,
with good water right up to within a few yards of the shore. As we cruised
slowly along, two of the boches again saw what they believed to be a man,
or manlike creature, watching us from a fringe of trees a hundred yards
inland, and shortly after we discovered the mouth of a small stream emptying
into the bay: It was the first stream we had found since leaving the river, and
I at once made preparations to test its water. To land, it would be necessary
to run the U-33 close in to the shore, at least as close as we could, for even
these waters were infested, though, not so thickly, by savage reptiles. I
ordered sufficient water let into the diving-tanks to lower us about a foot, and
then I ran the bow slowly toward the shore, confident that should we run
aground, we still had sufficient lifting force to free us when the water should
be pumped out of the tanks; but the bow nosed its way gently into the reeds
and touched the shore with the keel still clear.

My men were all armed now with both rifles and pistols, each having plenty
of ammunition. I ordered one of the Germans ashore with a line, and sent two
of my own men to guard him, for from what little we had seen of Caprona, or
Caspak as we learned later to call the interior, we realized that any instant
some new and terrible danger might confront us. The line was made fast to a
small tree, and at the same time I had the stern anchor dropped.

As soon as the boche and his guard were aboard again, I called all hands on
deck, including von Schoenvorts, and there I explained to them that the time
had come for us to enter into some sort of an agreement among ourselves that
would relieve us of the annoyance and embarrassment of being divided into
two antagonistic parts—prisoners and captors. I told them that it was
obvious our very existence depended upon our unity of action, that we were
to all intent and purpose entering a new world as far from the seat and causes
of our own world-war as if millions of miles of space and eons of time
separated us from our past lives and habitations.
“There is no reason why we should carry our racial and political hatreds into
Caprona,” I insisted. “The Germans among us might kill all the English, or
the English might kill the last German, without affecting in the slightest
degree either the outcome of even the smallest skirmish upon the western
front or the opinion of a single individual in any belligerent or neutral
country. I therefore put the issue squarely to you all; shall we bury our
animosities and work together with and for one another while we remain
upon Caprona, or must we continue thus divided and but half armed, possibly
until death has claimed the last of us? And let me tell you, if you have not
already realized it, the chances are a thousand to one that not one of us ever
will see the outside world again. We are safe now in the matter of food and
water; we could provision the U-33 for a long cruise; but we are practically
out of fuel, and without fuel we cannot hope to reach the ocean, as only a
submarine can pass through the barrier cliffs. What is your answer?” I turned
toward von Schoenvorts.

He eyed me in that disagreeable way of his and demanded to know, in case

they accepted my suggestion, what their status would be in event of our
finding a way to escape with the U-33. I replied that I felt that if we had all
worked loyally together we should leave Caprona upon a common footing,
and to that end I suggested that should the remote possibility of our escape in
the submarine develop into reality, we should then immediately make for the
nearest neutral port and give ourselves into the hands of the authorities, when
we should all probably be interned for the duration of the war. To my
surprise he agreed that this was fair and told me that they would accept my
conditions and that I could depend upon their loyalty to the common cause.

I thanked him and then addressed each one of his men individually, and each
gave me his word that he would abide by all that I had outlined. It was
further understood that we were to act as a military organization under
military rules and discipline—I as commander, with Bradley as my first
lieutenant and Olson as my second, in command of the Englishmen; while von
Schoenvorts was to act as an additional second lieutenant and have charge of
his own men. The four of us were to constitute a military court under which
men might be tried and sentenced to punishment for infraction of military
rules and discipline, even to the passing of the death-sentence.
I then had arms and ammunition issued to the Germans, and leaving Bradley
and five men to guard the U-33, the balance of us went ashore. The first thing
we did was to taste the water of the little stream— which, to our delight, we
found sweet, pure and cold. This stream was entirely free from dangerous
reptiles, because, as I later discovered, they became immediately dormant
when subjected to a much lower temperature than 70 degrees Fahrenheit.
They dislike cold water and keep as far away from it as possible. There
were countless brook-trout here, and deep holes that invited us to bathe, and
along the bank of the stream were trees bearing a close resemblance to ash
and beech and oak, their characteristics evidently induced by the lower
temperature of the air above the cold water and by the fact that their roots
were watered by the water from the stream rather than from the warm springs
which we afterward found in such abundance elsewhere.

Our first concern was to fill the water tanks of the U-33 with fresh water, and
that having been accomplished, we set out to hunt for game and explore
inland for a short distance. Olson, von Schoenvorts, two Englishmen and two
Germans accompanied me, leaving ten to guard the ship and the girl. I had
intended leaving Nobs behind, but he got away and joined me and was so
happy over it that I hadn’t the heart to send him back. We followed the stream
upward through a beautiful country for about five miles, and then came upon
its source in a little boulder-strewn clearing. From among the rocks bubbled
fully twenty ice-cold springs. North of the clearing rose sandstone cliffs to a
height of some fifty to seventy-five feet, with tall trees growing at their base
and almost concealing them from our view. To the west the country was flat
and sparsely wooded, and here it was that we saw our first game—a large
red deer. It was grazing away from us and had not seen us when one of my
men called my attention to it. Motioning for silence and having the rest of the
party lie down, I crept toward the quarry, accompanied only by Whitely. We
got within a hundred yards of the deer when he suddenly raised his antlered
head and pricked up his great ears. We both fired at once and had the
satisfaction of seeing the buck drop; then we ran forward to finish him with
our knives. The deer lay in a small open space close to a clump of acacias,
and we had advanced to within several yards of our kill when we both halted
suddenly and simultaneously. Whitely looked at me, and I looked at Whitely,
and then we both looked back in the direction of the deer. “Blime!’ he said.
“Wot is hit, sir?”
“It looks to me, Whitely, like an error,” I said; “some assistant god who had
been creating elephants must have been temporarily transferred to the lizard-
department.”

“Hi wouldn’t s’y that, sir,” said Whitely; “it sounds blasphemous.”

“It is more blasphemous than that thing which is swiping our meat,” I replied,
for whatever the thing was, it had leaped upon our deer and was devouring it
in great mouthfuls which it swallowed without mastication. The creature
appeared to be a great lizard at least ten feet high, with a huge, powerful tail
as long as its torso, mighty hind legs and short forelegs. When it had
advanced from the wood, it hopped much after the fashion of a kangaroo,
using its hind feet and tail to propel it, and when it stood erect, it sat upon its
tail. Its head was long and thick, with a blunt muzzle, and the opening of the
jaws ran back to a point behind the eyes, and the jaws were armed with long
sharp teeth. The scaly body was covered with black and yellow spots about a
foot in diameter and irregular in contour. These spots were outlined in red
with edgings about an inch wide. The underside of the chest, body and tail
were a greenish white.

“Wot s’y we pot the bloomin’ bird, sir?” suggested Whitely.

I told him to wait until I gave the word; then we would fire simultaneously,
he at the heart and I at the spine.

“Hat the ‘eart, sir—yes, sir,” he replied, and raised his piece to his shoulder.

Our shots rang out together. The thing raised its head and looked about until
its eyes rested upon us; then it gave vent to a most appalling hiss that rose to
the crescendo of a terrific shriek and came for us.

“Beat it, Whitely!” I cried as I turned to run.

We were about a quarter of a mile from the rest of our party, and in full sight
of them as they lay in the tall grass watching us. That they saw all that had
happened was evidenced by the fact that they now rose and ran toward us,
and at their head leaped Nobs. The creature in our rear was gaining on us
rapidly when Nobs flew past me like a meteor and rushed straight for the
frightful reptile. I tried to recall him, but he would pay no attention to me, and
as I couldn’t see him sacrificed, I, too, stopped and faced the monster. The
creature appeared to be more impressed with Nobs than by us and our
firearms, for it stopped as the Airedale dashed at it growling, and struck at
him viciously with its powerful jaws.

Nobs, though, was lightning by comparison with the slow thinking beast and
dodged his opponent’s thrust with ease. Then he raced to the rear of the
tremendous thing and seized it by the tail. There Nobs made the error of his
life. Within that mottled organ were the muscles of a Titan, the force of a
dozen mighty catapults, and the owner of the tail was fully aware of the
possibilities which it contained. With a single flip of the tip it sent poor Nobs
sailing through the air a hundred feet above the ground, straight back into the
clump of acacias from which the beast had leaped upon our kill—and then
the grotesque thing sank lifeless to the ground.

Olson and von Schoenvorts came up a minute later with their men; then we
all cautiously approached the still form upon the ground. The creature was
quite dead, and an examination resulted in disclosing the fact that Whitely’s
bullet had pierced its heart, and mine had severed the spinal cord.

“But why didn’t it die instantly?” I exclaimed.

“Because,” said von Schoenvorts in his disagreeable way, “the beast is so

large, and its nervous organization of so low a caliber, that it took all this
time for the intelligence of death to reach and be impressed upon the minute
brain. The thing was dead when your bullets struck it; but it did not know it
for several seconds—possibly a minute. If I am not mistaken, it is an
Allosaurus of the Upper Jurassic, remains of which have been found in
Central Wyoming, in the suburbs of New York.”

An Irishman by the name of Brady grinned. I afterward learned that he had

served three years on the traffic-squad of the Chicago police force.

I had been calling Nobs in the meantime and was about to set out in search of
him, fearing, to tell the truth, to do so lest I find him mangled and dead among
the trees of the acacia grove, when he suddenly emerged from among the
boles, his ears flattened, his tail between his legs and his body screwed into
a suppliant S. He was unharmed except for minor bruises; but he was the
most chastened dog I have ever seen.

We gathered up what was left of the red deer after skinning and cleaning it,
and set out upon our return journey toward the U-boat. On the way Olson,
von Schoenvorts and I discussed the needs of our immediate future, and we
were unanimous in placing foremost the necessity of a permanent camp on
shore. The interior of a U-boat is about as impossible and uncomfortable an
abiding-place as one can well imagine, and in this warm climate, and in
warm water, it was almost unendurable. So we decided to construct a
palisaded camp.
Chapter 6
As we strolled slowly back toward the boat, planning and discussing this, we
were suddenly startled by a loud and unmistakable detonation.

“A shell from the U-33!” exclaimed von Schoenvorts.

“What can be after signifyin’?” queried Olson.

“They are in trouble,” I answered for all, “and it’s up to us to get back to
them. Drop that carcass,” I directed the men carrying the meat, “and follow
me!” I set off at a rapid run in the direction of the harbor.

We ran for the better part of a mile without hearing anything more from the
direction of the harbor, and then I reduced the speed to a walk, for the
exercise was telling on us who had been cooped up for so long in the
confined interior of the U-33. Puffing and panting, we plodded on until within
about a mile of the harbor we came upon a sight that brought us all up
standing. We had been passing through a little heavier timber than was usual
to this part of the country, when we suddenly emerged into an open space in
the center of which was such a band as might have caused the most
courageous to pause. It consisted of upward of five hundred individuals
representing several species closely allied to man. There were anthropoid
apes and gorillas—these I had no difficulty in recognizing; but there were
other forms which I had never before seen, and I was hard put to it to say
whether they were ape or man. Some of them resembled the corpse we had
found upon the narrow beach against Caprona’s sea-wall, while others were
of a still lower type, more nearly resembling the apes, and yet others were
uncannily manlike, standing there erect, being less hairy and possessing
better shaped heads.

There was one among the lot, evidently the leader of them, who bore a close
resemblance to the so-called Neanderthal man of La Chapelle-aux-Saints.
There was the same short, stocky trunk upon which rested an enormous head
habitually bent forward into the same curvature as the back, the arms shorter
than the legs, and the lower leg considerably shorter than that of modern man,
the knees bent forward and never straightened. This creature and one or two
others who appeared to be of a lower order than he, yet higher than that of the
apes, carried heavy clubs; the others were armed only with giant muscles and
fighting fangs—nature’s weapons. All were males, and all were entirely
naked; nor was there upon even the highest among them a sign of
ornamentation.

At sight of us they turned with bared fangs and low growls to confront us. I
did not wish to fire among them unless it became absolutely necessary, and
so I started to lead my party around them; but the instant that the Neanderthal
man guessed my intention, he evidently attributed it to cowardice upon our
part, and with a wild cry he leaped toward us, waving his cudgel above his
head. The others followed him, and in a minute we should have been
overwhelmed. I gave the order to fire, and at the first volley six of them went
down, including the Neanderthal man. The others hesitated a moment and
then broke for the trees, some running nimbly among the branches, while
others lost themselves to us between the boles. Both von Schoenvorts and I
noticed that at least two of the higher, manlike types took to the trees quite as
nimbly as the apes, while others that more nearly approached man in carriage
and appearance sought safety upon the ground with the gorillas.

An examination disclosed that five of our erstwhile opponents were dead and
the sixth, the Neanderthal man, was but slightly wounded, a bullet having
glanced from his thick skull, stunning him. We decided to take him with us to
camp, and by means of belts we managed to secure his hands behind his back
and place a leash around his neck before he regained consciousness. We then
retraced our steps for our meat being convinced by our own experience that
those aboard the U-33 had been able to frighten off this party with a single
shell—but when we came to where we had left the deer it had disappeared.

On the return journey Whitely and I preceded the rest of the party by about a
hundred yards in the hope of getting another shot at something edible, for we
were all greatly disgusted and disappointed by the loss of our venison.
Whitely and I advanced very cautiously, and not having the whole party with
us, we fared better than on the journey out, bagging two large antelope not a
half-mile from the harbor; so with our game and our prisoner we made a
cheerful return to the boat, where we found that all were safe. On the shore a
little north of where we lay there were the corpses of twenty of the wild
creatures who had attacked Bradley and his party in our absence, and the rest
of whom we had met and scattered a few minutes later.

We felt that we had taught these wild ape-men a lesson and that because of it
we would be safer in the future—at least safer from them; but we decided not
to abate our carefulness one whit; feeling that this new world was filled with
terrors still unknown to us; nor were we wrong.

The following morning we commenced work upon our camp, Bradley, Olson,
von Schoenvorts, Miss La Rue, and I having sat up half the night discussing
the matter and drawing plans. We set the men at work felling trees, selecting
for the purpose jarrah, a hard, weather-resisting timber which grew in
profusion near by. Half the men labored while the other half stood guard,
alternating each hour with an hour off at noon. Olson directed this work.
Bradley, von Schoenvorts and I, with Miss La Rue’s help, staked out the
various buildings and the outer wall. When the day was done, we had quite
an array of logs nicely notched and ready for our building operations on the
morrow, and we were all tired, for after the buildings had been staked out we
all fell in and helped with the logging—all but von Schoenvorts. He, being a
Prussian and a gentleman, couldn’t stoop to such menial labor in the presence
of his men, and I didn’t see fit to ask it of him, as the work was purely
voluntary upon our part. He spent the afternoon shaping a swagger-stick from
the branch of jarrah and talking with Miss La Rue, who had sufficiently
unbent toward him to notice his existence.

We saw nothing of the wild men of the previous day, and only once were we
menaced by any of the strange denizens of Caprona, when some frightful
nightmare of the sky swooped down upon us, only to be driven off by a
fusillade of bullets. The thing appeared to be some variety of pterodactyl,
and what with its enormous size and ferocious aspect was most awe-
inspiring. There was another incident, too, which to me at least was far more
unpleasant than the sudden onslaught of the prehistoric reptile. Two of the
men, both Germans, were stripping a felled tree of its branches. Von
Schoenvorts had completed his swagger-stick, and he and I were passing
close to where the two worked.
One of them threw to his rear a small branch that he had just chopped off, and
as misfortune would have it, it struck von Schoenvorts across the face. It
couldn’t have hurt him, for it didn’t leave a mark; but he flew into a terrific
rage, shouting: “Attention!” in a loud voice. The sailor immediately
straightened up, faced his officer, clicked his heels together and saluted.
“Pig!” roared the Baron, and struck the fellow across the face, breaking his
nose. I grabbed von Schoenvorts’ arm and jerked him away before he could
strike again, if such had been his intention, and then he raised his little stick
to strike me; but before it descended the muzzle of my pistol was against his
belly and he must have seen in my eyes that nothing would suit me better than
an excuse to pull the trigger. Like all his kind and all other bullies, von
Schoenvorts was a coward at heart, and so he dropped his hand to his side
and started to turn away; but I pulled him back, and there before his men I
told him that such a thing must never again occur—that no man was to be
struck or otherwise punished other than in due process of the laws that we
had made and the court that we had established. All the time the sailor stood
rigidly at attention, nor could I tell from his expression whether he most
resented the blow his officer had struck him or my interference in the gospel
of the Kaiser-breed. Nor did he move until I said to him: “Plesser, you may
return to your quarters and dress your wound.” Then he saluted and marched
stiffly off toward the U-33.

Just before dusk we moved out into the bay a hundred yards from shore and
dropped anchor, for I felt that we should be safer there than elsewhere. I also
detailed men to stand watch during the night and appointed Olson officer of
the watch for the entire night, telling him to bring his blankets on deck and get
what rest he could. At dinner we tasted our first roast Caprona antelope, and
we had a mess of greens that the cook had found growing along the stream.
All during the meal von Schoenvorts was silent and surly.

After dinner we all went on deck and watched the unfamiliar scenes of a
Capronian night—that is, all but von Schoenvorts. There was less to see than
to hear. From the great inland lake behind us came the hissing and the
screaming of countless saurians. Above us we heard the flap of giant wings,
while from the shore rose the multitudinous voices of a tropical jungle—of a
warm, damp atmosphere such as must have enveloped the entire earth during
the Palezoic and Mesozoic eras. But here were intermingled the voices of
later eras—the scream of the panther, the roar of the lion, the baying of
wolves and a thunderous growling which we could attribute to nothing
earthly but which one day we were to connect with the most fearsome of
ancient creatures.

One by one the others went to their rooms, until the girl and I were left alone
together, for I had permitted the watch to go below for a few minutes,
knowing that I would be on deck. Miss La Rue was very quiet, though she
replied graciously enough to whatever I had to say that required reply. I
asked her if she did not feel well.

“Yes,” she said, “but I am depressed by the awfulness of it all. I feel of so

little consequence—so small and helpless in the face of all these myriad
manifestations of life stripped to the bone of its savagery and brutality. I
realize as never before how cheap and valueless a thing is life. Life seems a
joke, a cruel, grim joke. You are a laughable incident or a terrifying one as
you happen to be less powerful or more powerful than some other form of
life which crosses your path; but as a rule you are of no moment whatsoever
to anything but yourself. You are a comic little figure, hopping from the
cradle to the grave. Yes, that is our trouble—we take ourselves too seriously;
but Caprona should be a sure cure for that.” She paused and laughed.

“You have evolved a beautiful philosophy,” I said. “It fills such a longing in
the human breast. It is full, it is satisfying, it is ennobling. What wonderous
strides toward perfection the human race might have made if the first man had
evolved it and it had persisted until now as the creed of humanity.”

“I don’t like irony,” she said; “it indicates a small soul.”

“What other sort of soul, then, would you expect from `a comic little figure
hopping from the cradle to the grave’?” I inquired. “And what difference
does it make, anyway, what you like and what you don’t like? You are here
for but an instant, and you mustn’t take yourself too seriously.”

She looked up at me with a smile. “I imagine that I am frightened and blue,”

she said, “and I know that I am very, very homesick and lonely.” There was
almost a sob in her voice as she concluded. It was the first time that she had
spoken thus to me. Involuntarily, I laid my hand upon hers where it rested on
the rail.

“I know how difficult your position is,” I said; “but don’t feel that you are
alone. There is—is one here who—who would do anything in the world for
you,” I ended lamely. She did not withdraw her hand, and she looked up into
my face with tears on her cheeks and I read in her eyes the thanks her lips
could not voice. Then she looked away across the weird moonlit landscape
and sighed. Evidently her new-found philosophy had tumbled about her ears,
for she was seemingly taking herself seriously. I wanted to take her in my
arms and tell her how I loved her, and had taken her hand from the rail and
started to draw her toward me when Olson came blundering up on deck with
his bedding.

The following morning we started building operations in earnest, and things

progressed finely. The Neanderthal man was something of a care, for we had
to keep him in irons all the time, and he was mighty savage when
approached; but after a time he became more docile, and then we tried to
discover if he had a language. Lys spent a great deal of time talking to him
and trying to draw him out; but for a long while she was unsuccessful. It took
us three weeks to build all the houses, which we constructed close by a cold
spring some two miles from the harbor.

We changed our plans a trifle when it came to building the palisade, for we
found a rotted cliff near by where we could get all the flat building-stone we
needed, and so we constructed a stone wall entirely around the buildings. It
was in the form of a square, with bastions and towers at each corner which
would permit an enfilading fire along any side of the fort, and was about one
hundred and thirty-five feet square on the outside, with walls three feet thick
at the bottom and about a foot and a half wide at the top, and fifteen feet high.
It took a long time to build that wall, and we all turned in and helped except
von Schoenvorts, who, by the way, had not spoken to me except in the line of
official business since our encounter—a condition of armed neutrality which
suited me to a T. We have just finished it, the last touches being put on today.
I quit about a week ago and commenced working on this chronicle for our
strange adventures, which will account for any minor errors in chronology
which may have crept in; there was so much material that I may have made
some mistakes, but I think they are but minor and few.

I see in reading over the last few pages that I neglected to state that Lys
finally discovered that the Neanderthal man possessed a language. She had
learned to speak it, and so have I, to some extent. It was he—his name he
says is Am, or Ahm— who told us that this country is called Caspak. When
we asked him how far it extended, he waved both arms about his head in an
all-including gesture which took in, apparently, the entire universe. He is
more tractable now, and we are going to release him, for he has assured us
that he will not permit his fellows to harm us. He calls us Galus and says that
in a short time he will be a Galu. It is not quite clear to us what he means. He
says that there are many Galus north of us, and that as soon as he becomes
one he will go and live with them.

Ahm went out to hunt with us yesterday and was much impressed by the ease
with which our rifles brought down antelopes and deer. We have been living
upon the fat of the land, Ahm, having shown us the edible fruits, tubers and
herbs, and twice a week we go out after fresh meat. A certain proportion of
this we dry and store away, for we do not know what may come. Our drying
process is really smoking. We have also dried a large quantity of two
varieties of cereal which grow wild a few miles south of us. One of these is
a giant Indian maize—a lofty perennial often fifty and sixty feet in height,
with ears the size off a man’s body and kernels as large as your fist. We have
had to construct a second store house for the great quantity of this that we
have gathered.

September 3, 1916: Three months ago today the torpedo from the U-33
started me from the peaceful deck of the American liner upon the strange
voyage which has ended here in Caspak. We have settled down to an
acceptance of our fate, for all are convinced that none of us will ever see the
outer world again. Ahm’s repeated assertions that there are human beings
like ourselves in Caspak have roused the men to a keen desire for
exploration. I sent out one party last week under Bradley. Ahm, who is now
free to go and come as he wishes, accompanied them. They marched about
twenty-five miles due west, encountering many terrible beasts and reptiles
and not a few manlike creatures whom Ahm sent away. Here is Bradley’s
report of the expedition:

Marched fifteen miles the first day, camping on the bank of a large stream
which runs southward. Game was plentiful and we saw several varieties
which we had not before encountered in Caspak. Just before making camp
we were charged by an enormous woolly rhinoceros, which Plesser dropped
with a perfect shot. We had rhinoceros-steaks for supper. Ahm called the
thing “Atis.” It was almost a continuous battle from the time we left the fort
until we arrived at camp. The mind of man can scarce conceive the plethora
of carnivorous life in this lost world; and their prey, of course, is even more
abundant.

The second day we marched about ten miles to the foot of the cliffs. Passed
through dense forests close to the base of the cliffs. Saw manlike creatures
and a low order of ape in one band, and some of the men swore that there
was a white man among them. They were inclined to attack us at first; but a
volley from our rifles caused them to change their minds. We scaled the cliffs
as far as we could; but near the top they are absolutely perpendicular without
any sufficient cleft or protuberance to give hand or foot-hold. All were
disappointed, for we hungered for a view of the ocean and the outside world.
We even had a hope that we might see and attract the attention of a passing
ship. Our exploration has determined one thing which will probably be of
little value to us and never heard of beyond Caprona’s walls—this crater
was once entirely filled with water. Indisputable evidence of this is on the
face of the cliffs.

Our return journey occupied two days and was as filled with adventure as
usual. We are all becoming accustomed to adventure. It is beginning to pall
on us. We suffered no casualties and there was no illness.

I had to smile as I read Bradley’s report. In those four days he had doubtless
passed through more adventures than an African big-game hunter experiences
in a lifetime, and yet he covered it all in a few lines. Yes, we are becoming
accustomed to adventure. Not a day passes that one or more of us does not
face death at least once. Ahm taught us a few things that have proved
profitable and saved us much ammunition, which it is useless to expend
except for food or in the last recourse of self-preservation. Now when we
are attacked by large flying reptiles we run beneath spreading trees; when
land carnivora threaten us, we climb into trees, and we have learned not to
fire at any of the dinosaurs unless we can keep out of their reach for at least
two minutes after hitting them in the brain or spine, or five minutes after
puncturing their hearts—it takes them so long to die. To hit them elsewhere is
worse than useless, for they do not seem to notice it, and we had discovered
that such shots do not kill or even disable them.

September 7, 1916: Much has happened since I last wrote. Bradley is away
again on another exploration expedition to the cliffs. He expects to be gone
several weeks and to follow along their base in search of a point where they
may be scaled. He took Sinclair, Brady, James, and Tippet with him. Ahm
has disappeared. He has been gone about three days; but the most startling
thing I have on record is that von Schoenvorts and Olson while out hunting
the other day discovered oil about fifteen miles north of us beyond the
sandstone cliffs. Olson says there is a geyser of oil there, and von
Schoenvorts is making preparations to refine it. If he succeeds, we shall have
the means for leaving Caspak and returning to our own world. I can scarce
believe the truth of it. We are all elated to the seventh heaven of bliss. Pray
God we shall not be disappointed.

I have tried on several occasions to broach the subject of my love to Lys; but
she will not listen.
Chapter 7
October 8, 1916: This is the last entry I shall make upon my manuscript.
When this is done, I shall be through. Though I may pray that it reaches the
haunts of civilized man, my better judgment tells me that it will never be
perused by other eyes than mine, and that even though it should, it would be
too late to avail me. I am alone upon the summit of the great cliff overlooking
the broad Pacific. A chill south wind bites at my marrow, while far below
me I can see the tropic foliage of Caspak on the one hand and huge icebergs
from the near Antarctic upon the other. Presently I shall stuff my folded
manuscript into the thermos bottle I have carried with me for the purpose
since I left the fort—Fort Dinosaur we named it—and hurl it far outward
over the cliff-top into the Pacific. What current washes the shore of Caprona
I know not; whither my bottle will be borne I cannot even guess; but I have
done all that mortal man may do to notify the world of my whereabouts and
the dangers that threaten those of us who remain alive in Caspak—if there be
any other than myself.

About the 8th of September I accompanied Olson and von Schoenvorts to the
oil-geyser. Lys came with us, and we took a number of things which von
Schoenvorts wanted for the purpose of erecting a crude refinery. We went up
the coast some ten or twelve miles in the U-33, tying up to shore near the
mouth of a small stream which emptied great volumes of crude oil into the
sea—I find it difficult to call this great lake by any other name. Then we
disembarked and went inland about five miles, where we came upon a small
lake entirely filled with oil, from the center of which a geyser of oil spouted.

On the edge of the lake we helped von Schoenvorts build his primitive
refinery. We worked with him for two days until he got things fairly well
started, and then we returned to Fort Dinosaur, as I feared that Bradley might
return and be worried by our absence. The U-33 merely landed those of us
that were to return to the fort and then retraced its course toward the oil-well.
Olson, Whitely, Wilson, Miss La Rue, and myself disembarked, while von
Schoenvorts and his German crew returned to refine the oil. The next day
Plesser and two other Germans came down overland for ammunition. Plesser
said they had been attacked by wild men and had exhausted a great deal of
ammunition. He also asked permission to get some dried meat and maize,
saying that they were so busy with the work of refining that they had no time
to hunt. I let him have everything he asked for, and never once did a suspicion
of their intentions enter my mind. They returned to the oil-well the same day,
while we continued with the multitudinous duties of camp life.

For three days nothing of moment occurred. Bradley did not return; nor did
we have any word from von Schoenvorts. In the evening Lys and I went up
into one of the bastion towers and listened to the grim and terrible nightlife of
the frightful ages of the past. Once a saber-tooth screamed almost beneath us,
and the girl shrank close against me. As I felt her body against mine, all the
pent love of these three long months shattered the bonds of timidity and
conviction, and I swept her up into my arms and covered her face and lips
with kisses. She did not struggle to free herself; but instead her dear arms
crept up about my neck and drew my own face even closer to hers.

“You love me, Lys?” I cried.

I felt her head nod an affirmative against my breast. “Tell me, Lys,” I begged,
“tell me in words how much you love me.”

Low and sweet and tender came the answer: “I love you beyond all
conception.”

My heart filled with rapture then, and it fills now as it has each of the
countless times I have recalled those dear words, as it shall fill always until
death has claimed me. I may never see her again; she may not know how I
love her—she may question, she may doubt; but always true and steady, and
warm with the fires of love my heart beats for the girl who said that night: “I
love you beyond all conception.”

For a long time we sat there upon the little bench constructed for the sentry
that we had not as yet thought it necessary to post in more than one of the four
towers. We learned to know one another better in those two brief hours than
we had in all the months that had intervened since we had been thrown
together. She told me that she had loved me from the first, and that she never
had loved von Schoenvorts, their engagement having been arranged by her
aunt for social reasons.

That was the happiest evening of my life; nor ever do I expect to experience
its like; but at last, as is the way of happiness, it terminated. We descended to
the compound, and I walked with Lys to the door of her quarters. There again
she kissed me and bade me good night, and then she went in and closed the
door.

I went to my own room, and there I sat by the light of one of the crude
candles we had made from the tallow of the beasts we had killed, and lived
over the events of the evening. At last I turned in and fell asleep, dreaming
happy dreams and planning for the future, for even in savage Caspak I was
bound to make my girl safe and happy. It was daylight when I awoke. Wilson,
who was acting as cook, was up and astir at his duties in the cook-house. The
others slept; but I arose and followed by Nobs went down to the stream for a
plunge. As was our custom, I went armed with both rifle and revolver; but I
stripped and had my swim without further disturbance than the approach of a
large hyena, a number of which occupied caves in the sandstone cliffs north
of the camp. These brutes are enormous and exceedingly ferocious. I imagine
they correspond with the cave-hyena of prehistoric times. This fellow
charged Nobs, whose Capronian experiences had taught him that discretion is
the better part of valor—with the result that he dived head foremost into the
stream beside me after giving vent to a series of ferocious growls which had
no more effect upon Hyaena spelaeus than might a sweet smile upon an
enraged tusker. Afterward I shot the beast, and Nobs had a feast while I
dressed, for he had become quite a raw-meat eater during our numerous
hunting expeditions, upon which we always gave him a portion of the kill.

Whitely and Olson were up and dressed when we returned, and we all sat
down to a good breakfast. I could not but wonder at Lys’ absence from the
table, for she had always been one of the earliest risers in camp; so about
nine o’clock, becoming apprehensive lest she might be indisposed, I went to
the door of her room and knocked. I received no response, though I finally
pounded with all my strength; then I turned the knob and entered, only to find
that she was not there. Her bed had been occupied, and her clothing lay
where she had placed it the previous night upon retiring; but Lys was gone.
To say that I was distracted with terror would be to put it mildly. Though I
knew she could not be in camp, I searched every square inch of the
compound and all the buildings, yet without avail.

It was Whitely who discovered the first clue—a huge human-like footprint in
the soft earth beside the spring, and indications of a struggle in the mud.

Then I found a tiny handkerchief close to the outer wall. Lys had been stolen!
It was all too plain. Some hideous member of the ape-man tribe had entered
the fort and carried her off. While I stood stunned and horrified at the
frightful evidence before me, there came from the direction of the great lake
an increasing sound that rose to the volume of a shriek. We all looked up as
the noise approached apparently just above us, and a moment later there
followed a terrific explosion which hurled us to the ground. When we
clambered to our feet, we saw a large section of the west wall torn and
shattered. It was Olson who first recovered from his daze sufficiently to
guess the explanation of the phenomenon.

“A shell!” he cried. “And there ain’t no shells in Caspak besides what’s on

the U-33. The dirty boches are shellin’ the fort. Come on!” And he grasped
his rifle and started on a run toward the lake. It was over two miles, but we
did not pause until the harbor was in view, and still we could not see the lake
because of the sandstone cliffs which intervened. We ran as fast as we could
around the lower end of the harbor, scrambled up the cliffs and at last stood
upon their summit in full view of the lake. Far away down the coast, toward
the river through which we had come to reach the lake, we saw upon the
surface the outline of the U-33, black smoke vomiting from her funnel.

Von Schoenvorts had succeeded in refining the oil! The cur had broken his
every pledge and was leaving us there to our fates. He had even shelled the
fort as a parting compliment; nor could anything have been more truly
Prussian than this leave-taking of the Baron Friedrich von Schoenvorts.

Olson, Whitely, Wilson, and I stood for a moment looking at one another. It
seemed incredible that man could be so perfidious—that we had really seen
with our own eyes the thing that we had seen; but when we returned to the
fort, the shattered wall gave us ample evidence that there was no mistake.
Then we began to speculate as to whether it had been an ape-man or a
Prussian that had abducted Lys. From what we knew of von Schoenvorts, we
would not have been surprised at anything from him; but the footprints by the
spring seemed indisputable evidence that one of Caprona’s undeveloped men
had borne off the girl I loved.

As soon as I had assured myself that such was the case, I made my
preparations to follow and rescue her. Olson, Whitely, and Wilson each
wished to accompany me; but I told them that they were needed here, since
with Bradley’s party still absent and the Germans gone it was necessary that
we conserve our force as far as might be possible.
Chapter 8
It was a sad leave-taking as in silence I shook hands with each of the three
remaining men. Even poor Nobs appeared dejected as we quit the compound
and set out upon the well-marked spoor of the abductor. Not once did I turn
my eyes backward toward Fort Dinosaur. I have not looked upon it since—
nor in all likelihood shall I ever look upon it again. The trail led northwest
until it reached the western end of the sandstone cliffs to the north of the fort;
there it ran into a well-defined path which wound northward into a country
we had not as yet explored. It was a beautiful, gently rolling country, broken
by occasional outcroppings of sandstone and by patches of dense forest
relieved by open, parklike stretches and broad meadows whereon grazed
countless herbivorous animals—red deer, aurochs, and infinite variety of
antelope and at least three distinct species of horse, the latter ranging in size
from a creature about as large as Nobs to a magnificent animal fourteen to
sixteen hands high. These creatures fed together in perfect amity; nor did they
show any great indications of terror when Nobs and I approached. They
moved out of our way and kept their eyes upon us until we had passed; then
they resumed their feeding.

The path led straight across the clearing into another forest, lying upon the
verge of which I saw a bit of white. It appeared to stand out in marked
contrast and incongruity to all its surroundings, and when I stopped to
examine it, I found that it was a small strip of muslin—part of the hem of a
garment. At once I was all excitement, for I knew that it was a sign left by
Lys that she had been carried this way; it was a tiny bit torn from the hem of
the undergarment that she wore in lieu of the night-robes she had lost with the
sinking of the liner. Crushing the bit of fabric to my lips, I pressed on even
more rapidly than before, because I now knew that I was upon the right trail
and that up to this, point at least, Lys still had lived.

I made over twenty miles that day, for I was now hardened to fatigue and
accustomed to long hikes, having spent considerable time hunting and
exploring in the immediate vicinity of camp. A dozen times that day was my
life threatened by fearsome creatures of the earth or sky, though I could not
but note that the farther north I traveled, the fewer were the great dinosaurs,
though they still persisted in lesser numbers. On the other hand the quantity of
ruminants and the variety and frequency of carnivorous animals increased.
Each square mile of Caspak harbored its terrors.

At intervals along the way I found bits of muslin, and often they reassured me
when otherwise I should have been doubtful of the trail to take where two
crossed or where there were forks, as occurred at several points. And so, as
night was drawing on, I came to the southern end of a line of cliffs loftier
than any I had seen before, and as I approached them, there was wafted to my
nostrils the pungent aroma of woodsmoke. What could it mean? There could,
to my mind, be but a single solution: man abided close by, a higher order of
man than we had as yet seen, other than Ahm, the Neanderthal man. I
wondered again as I had so many times that day if it had not been Ahm who
stole Lys.

Cautiously I approached the flank of the cliffs, where they terminated in an

abrupt escarpment as though some all powerful hand had broken off a great
section of rock and set it upon the surface of the earth. It was now quite dark,
and as I crept around the edge of the cliff, I saw at a little distance a great
fire around which were many figures—apparently human figures. Cautioning
Nobs to silence, and he had learned many lessons in the value of obedience
since we had entered Caspak, I slunk forward, taking advantage of whatever
cover I could find, until from behind a bush I could distinctly see the
creatures assembled by the fire. They were human and yet not human. I
should say that they were a little higher in the scale of evolution than Ahm,
possibly occupying a place of evolution between that of the Neanderthal man
and what is known as the Grimaldi race. Their features were distinctly
negroid, though their skins were white. A considerable portion of both torso
and limbs were covered with short hair, and their physical proportions were
in many aspects apelike, though not so much so as were Ahm’s. They carried
themselves in a more erect position, although their arms were considerably
longer than those of the Neanderthal man. As I watched them, I saw that they
possessed a language, that they had knowledge of fire and that they carried
besides the wooden club of Ahm, a thing which resembled a crude stone
hatchet. Evidently they were very low in the scale of humanity, but they were
a step upward from those I had previously seen in Caspak.
But what interested me most was the slender figure of a dainty girl, clad only
in a thin bit of muslin which scarce covered her knees—a bit of muslin torn
and ragged about the lower hem. It was Lys, and she was alive and so far as I
could see, unharmed. A huge brute with thick lips and prognathous jaw stood
at her shoulder. He was talking loudly and gesticulating wildly. I was close
enough to hear his words, which were similar to the language of Ahm, though
much fuller, for there were many words I could not understand. However I
caught the gist of what he was saying—which in effect was that he had found
and captured this Galu, that she was his and that he defied anyone to question
his right of possession. It appeared to me, as I afterward learned was the
fact, that I was witnessing the most primitive of marriage ceremonies. The
assembled members of the tribe looked on and listened in a sort of dull and
perfunctory apathy, for the speaker was by far the mightiest of the clan.

There seemed no one to dispute his claims when he said, or rather shouted, in
stentorian tones: “I am Tsa. This is my she. Who wishes her more than Tsa?”

“I do,” I said in the language of Ahm, and I stepped out into the firelight
before them. Lys gave a little cry of joy and started toward me, but Tsa
grasped her arm and dragged her back.

“Who are you?” shrieked Tsa. “I kill! I kill! I kill!”

“The she is mine,” I replied, “and I have come to claim her. I kill if you do
not let her come to me.” And I raised my pistol to a level with his heart. Of
course the creature had no conception of the purpose of the strange little
implement which I was poking toward him. With a sound that was half human
and half the growl of a wild beast, he sprang toward me. I aimed at his heart
and fired, and as he sprawled headlong to the ground, the others of his tribe,
overcome by fright at the report of the pistol, scattered toward the cliffs—
while Lys, with outstretched arms, ran toward me.

As I crushed her to me, there rose from the black night behind us and then to
our right and to our left a series of frightful screams and shrieks, bellowings,
roars and growls. It was the nightlife of this jungle world coming into its own
—the huge, carnivorous nocturnal beasts which make the nights of Caspak
hideous. A shuddering sob ran through Lys’ figure. “O God,” she cried, “give
me the strength to endure, for his sake!” I saw that she was upon the verge of
a breakdown, after all that she must have passed through of fear and horror
that day, and I tried to quiet and reassure her as best I might; but even to me
the future looked most unpromising, for what chance of life had we against
the frightful hunters of the night who even now were prowling closer to us?

Now I turned to see what had become of the tribe, and in the fitful glare of
the fire I perceived that the face of the cliff was pitted with large holes into
which the man-things were clambering. “Come,” I said to Lys, “we must
follow them. We cannot last a half-hour out here. We must find a cave.”
Already we could see the blazing green eyes of the hungry carnivora. I seized
a brand from the fire and hurled it out into the night, and there came back an
answering chorus of savage and rageful protest; but the eyes vanished for a
short time. Selecting a burning branch for each of us, we advanced toward
the cliffs, where we were met by angry threats.

“They will kill us,” said Lys. “We may as well keep on in search of another
refuge.”

“They will not kill us so surely as will those others out there,” I replied. “I
am going to seek shelter in one of these caves; nor will the man-things
prevent.” And I kept on in the direction of the cliff’s base. A huge creature
stood upon a ledge and brandished his stone hatchet. “Come and I will kill
you and take the she,” he boasted.

“You saw how Tsa fared when he would have kept my she,” I replied in his
own tongue. “Thus will you fare and all your fellows if you do not permit us
to come in peace among you out of the dangers of the night.”

“Go north,” he screamed. “Go north among the Galus, and we will not harm
you. Some day will we be Galus; but now we are not. You do not belong
among us. Go away or we will kill you. The she may remain if she is afraid,
and we will keep her; but the he must depart.”

“The he won’t depart,” I replied, and approached still nearer. Rough and
narrow ledges formed by nature gave access to the upper caves. A man might
scale them if unhampered and unhindered, but to clamber upward in the face
of a belligerent tribe of half-men and with a girl to assist was beyond my
capability.
“I do not fear you,” screamed the creature. “You were close to Tsa; but I am
far above you. You cannot harm me as you harmed Tsa. Go away!”

I placed a foot upon the lowest ledge and clambered upward, reaching down
and pulling Lys to my side. Already I felt safer. Soon we would be out of
danger of the beasts again closing in upon us. The man above us raised his
stone hatchet above his head and leaped lightly down to meet us. His position
above me gave him a great advantage, or at least so he probably thought, for
he came with every show of confidence. I hated to do it, but there seemed no
other way, and so I shot him down as I had shot down Tsa.

“You see,” I cried to his fellows, “that I can kill you wherever you may be. A
long way off I can kill you as well as I can kill you near by. Let us come
among you in peace. I will not harm you if you do not harm us. We will take a
cave high up. Speak!”

“Come, then,” said one. “If you will not harm us, you may come. Take Tsa’s
hole, which lies above you.”

The creature showed us the mouth of a black cave, but he kept at a distance
while he did it, and Lys followed me as I crawled in to explore. I had
matches with me, and in the light of one I found a small cavern with a flat
roof and floor which followed the cleavage of the strata. Pieces of the roof
had fallen at some long-distant date, as was evidenced by the depth of the
filth and rubble in which they were embedded. Even a superficial
examination revealed the fact that nothing had ever been attempted that might
have improved the livability of the cavern; nor, should I judge, had it ever
been cleaned out. With considerable difficulty I loosened some of the larger
pieces of broken rock which littered the floor and placed them as a barrier
before the doorway. It was too dark to do more than this. I then gave Lys a
piece of dried meat, and sitting inside the entrance, we dined as must have
some of our ancient forbears at the dawning of the age of man, while far
below the open diapason of the savage night rose weird and horrifying to our
ears. In the light of the great fire still burning we could see huge, skulking
forms, and in the blacker background countless flaming eyes.

Lys shuddered, and I put my arm around her and drew her to me; and thus we
sat throughout the hot night. She told me of her abduction and of the fright she
had undergone, and together we thanked God that she had come through
unharmed, because the great brute had dared not pause along the danger-
infested way. She said that they had but just reached the cliffs when I arrived,
for on several occasions her captor had been forced to take to the trees with
her to escape the clutches of some hungry cave-lion or saber-toothed tiger,
and that twice they had been obliged to remain for considerable periods
before the beasts had retired.

Nobs, by dint of much scrambling and one or two narrow escapes from
death, had managed to follow us up the cliff and was now curled between me
and the doorway, having devoured a piece of the dried meat, which he
seemed to relish immensely. He was the first to fall asleep; but I imagine we
must have followed suit soon, for we were both tired. I had laid aside my
ammunition-belt and rifle, though both were close beside me; but my pistol I
kept in my lap beneath my hand. However, we were not disturbed during the
night, and when I awoke, the sun was shining on the tree-tops in the distance.
Lys’ head had drooped to my breast, and my arm was still about her.

Shortly afterward Lys awoke, and for a moment she could not seem to
comprehend her situation. She looked at me and then turned and glanced at
my arm about her, and then she seemed quite suddenly to realize the
scantiness of her apparel and drew away, covering her face with her palms
and blushing furiously. I drew her back toward me and kissed her, and then
she threw her arms about my neck and wept softly in mute surrender to the
inevitable.

It was an hour later before the tribe began to stir about. We watched them
from our “apartment,” as Lys called it. Neither men nor women wore any sort
of clothing or ornaments, and they all seemed to be about of an age; nor were
there any babies or children among them. This was, to us, the strangest and
most inexplicable of facts, but it recalled to us that though we had seen many
of the lesser developed wild people of Caspak, we had never yet seen a
child or an old man or woman.

After a while they became less suspicious of us and then quite friendly in
their brutish way. They picked at the fabric of our clothing, which seemed to
interest them, and examined my rifle and pistol and the ammunition in the belt
around my waist. I showed them the thermos-bottle, and when I poured a
little water from it, they were delighted, thinking that it was a spring which I
carried about with me—a never-failing source of water supply.

One thing we both noticed among their other characteristics: they never
laughed nor smiled; and then we remembered that Ahm had never done so,
either. I asked them if they knew Ahm; but they said they did not.

One of them said: “Back there we may have known him.” And he jerked his
head to the south.

“You came from back there?” I asked. He looked at me in surprise.

“We all come from there,” he said. “After a while we go there.” And this
time he jerked his head toward the north. “Be Galus,” he concluded.

Many times now had we heard this reference to becoming Galus. Ahm had
spoken of it many times. Lys and I decided that it was a sort of original
religious conviction, as much a part of them as their instinct for self-
preservation—a primal acceptance of a hereafter and a holier state. It was a
brilliant theory, but it was all wrong. I know it now, and how far we were
from guessing the wonderful, the miraculous, the gigantic truth which even
yet I may only guess at—the thing that sets Caspak apart from all the rest of
the world far more definitely than her isolated geographical position or her
impregnable barrier of giant cliffs. If I could live to return to civilization, I
should have meat for the clergy and the layman to chew upon for years—and
for the evolutionists, too.

After breakfast the men set out to hunt, while the women went to a large pool
of warm water covered with a green scum and filled with billions of
tadpoles. They waded in to where the water was about a foot deep and lay
down in the mud. They remained there from one to two hours and then
returned to the cliff. While we were with them, we saw this same thing
repeated every morning; but though we asked them why they did it we could
get no reply which was intelligible to us. All they vouchsafed in way of
explanation was the single word Ata. They tried to get Lys to go in with them
and could not understand why she refused. After the first day I went hunting
with the men, leaving my pistol and Nobs with Lys, but she never had to use
them, for no reptile or beast ever approached the pool while the women were
there—nor, so far as we know, at other times. There was no spoor of wild
beast in the soft mud along the banks, and the water certainly didn’t look fit
to drink.

This tribe lived largely upon the smaller animals which they bowled over
with their stone hatchets after making a wide circle about their quarry and
driving it so that it had to pass close to one of their number. The little horses
and the smaller antelope they secured in sufficient numbers to support life,
and they also ate numerous varieties of fruits and vegetables. They never
brought in more than sufficient food for their immediate needs; but why
bother? The food problem of Caspak is not one to cause worry to her
inhabitants.

The fourth day Lys told me that she thought she felt equal to attempting the
return journey on the morrow, and so I set out for the hunt in high spirits, for I
was anxious to return to the fort and learn if Bradley and his party had
returned and what had been the result of his expedition. I also wanted to
relieve their minds as to Lys and myself, as I knew that they must have
already given us up for dead. It was a cloudy day, though warm, as it always
is in Caspak. It seemed odd to realize that just a few miles away winter lay
upon the storm-tossed ocean, and that snow might be falling all about
Caprona; but no snow could ever penetrate the damp, hot atmosphere of the
great crater.

We had to go quite a bit farther than usual before we could surround a little
bunch of antelope, and as I was helping drive them, I saw a fine red deer a
couple of hundred yards behind me. He must have been asleep in the long
grass, for I saw him rise and look about him in a bewildered way, and then I
raised my gun and let him have it. He dropped, and I ran forward to finish
him with the long thin knife, which one of the men had given me; but just as I
reached him, he staggered to his feet and ran on for another two hundred
yards—when I dropped him again. Once more was this repeated before I
was able to reach him and cut his throat; then I looked around for my
companions, as I wanted them to come and carry the meat home; but I could
see nothing of them. I called a few times and waited, but there was no
response and no one came. At last I became disgusted, and cutting off all the
meat that I could conveniently carry, I set off in the direction of the cliffs. I
must have gone about a mile before the truth dawn upon me—I was lost,
hopelessly lost.

The entire sky was still completely blotted out by dense clouds; nor was
there any landmark visible by which I might have taken my bearings. I went
on in the direction I thought was south but which I now imagine must have
been about due north, without detecting a single familiar object. In a dense
wood I suddenly stumbled upon a thing which at first filled me with hope and
later with the most utter despair and dejection. It was a little mound of new-
turned earth sprinkled with flowers long since withered, and at one end was
a flat slab of sandstone stuck in the ground. It was a grave, and it meant for
me that I had at last stumbled into a country inhabited by human beings. I
would find them; they would direct me to the cliffs; perhaps they would
accompany me and take us back with them to their abodes—to the abodes of
men and women like ourselves. My hopes and my imagination ran riot in the
few yards I had to cover to reach that lonely grave and stoop that I might read
the rude characters scratched upon the simple headstone. This is what I read:

HERE LIES JOHN TIPPET ENGLISHMAN KILLED BY

TYRANNOSAURUS 10 SEPT., A.D. 1916 R. I. P.

Tippet! It seemed incredible. Tippet lying here in this gloomy wood! Tippet
dead! He had been a good man, but the personal loss was not what affected
me. It was the fact that this silent grave gave evidence that Bradley had come
this far upon his expedition and that he too probably was lost, for it was not
our intention that he should be long gone. If I had stumbled upon the grave of
one of the party, was it not within reason to believe that the bones of the
others lay scattered somewhere near?
Chapter 9
As I stood looking down upon that sad and lonely mound, wrapped in the
most dismal of reflections and premonitions, I was suddenly seized from
behind and thrown to earth. As I fell, a warm body fell on top of me, and
hands grasped my arms and legs. When I could look up, I saw a number of
giant fingers pinioning me down, while others stood about surveying me.
Here again was a new type of man—a higher type than the primitive tribe I
had just quitted. They were a taller people, too, with better-shaped skulls and
more intelligent faces. There were less of the ape characteristics about their
features, and less of the negroid, too. They carried weapons, stone-shod
spears, stone knives, and hatchets— and they wore ornaments and breech-
cloths—the former of feathers worn in their hair and the latter made of a
single snake-skin cured with the head on, the head depending to their knees.

Of course I did not take in all these details upon the instant of my capture, for
I was busy with other matters. Three of the warriors were sitting upon me,
trying to hold me down by main strength and awkwardness, and they were
having their hands full in the doing, I can tell you. I don’t like to appear
conceited, but I may as well admit that I am proud of my strength and the
science that I have acquired and developed in the directing of it—that and my
horsemanship I always have been proud of. And now, that day, all the long
hours that I had put into careful study, practice and training brought me in two
or three minutes a full return upon my investment. Californians, as a rule, are
familiar with ju-jutsu, and I especially had made a study of it for several
years, both at school and in the gym of the Los Angeles Athletic Club, while
recently I had had, in my employ, a Jap who was a wonder at the art.

It took me just about thirty seconds to break the elbow of one of my

assailants, trip another and send him stumbling backward among his fellows,
and throw the third completely over my head in such a way that when he fell
his neck was broken. In the instant that the others of the party stood in mute
and inactive surprise, I unslung my rifle—which, carelessly, I had been
carrying across my back; and when they charged, as I felt they would, I put a
bullet in the forehead of one of them. This stopped them all temporarily—not
the death of their fellow, but the report of the rifle, the first they had ever
heard. Before they were ready to attack me again, one of them spoke in a
commanding tone to his fellows, and in a language similar but still more
comprehensive than that of the tribe to the south, as theirs was more complete
than Ahm’s. He commanded them to stand back and then he advanced and
addressed me.

He asked me who I was, from whence I came and what my intentions were. I
replied that I was a stranger in Caspak, that I was lost and that my only desire
was to find my way back to my companions. He asked where they were and I
told him toward the south somewhere, using the Caspakian phrase which,
literally translated, means “toward the beginning.” His surprise showed upon
his face before he voiced it in words. “There are no Galus there,” he said.

“I tell you,” I said angrily, “that I am from another country, far from Caspak,
far beyond the high cliffs. I do not know who the Galus may be; I have never
seen them. This is the farthest north I have been. Look at me—look at my
clothing and my weapons. Have you ever seen a Galu or any other creature in
Caspak who possessed such things?”

He had to admit that he had not, and also that he was much interested in me,
my rifle and the way I had handled his three warriors. Finally he became half
convinced that I was telling him the truth and offered to aid me if I would
show him how I had thrown the man over my head and also make him a
present of the “bang-spear,” as he called it. I refused to give him my rifle, but
promised to show him the trick he wished to learn if he would guide me in
the right direction. He told me that he would do so tomorrow, that it was too
late today and that I might come to their village and spend the night with
them. I was loath to lose so much time; but the fellow was obdurate, and so I
accompanied them. The two dead men they left where they had fallen, nor
gave them a second glance—thus cheap is life upon Caspak.

These people also were cave-dwellers, but their caves showed the result of
a higher intelligence that brought them a step nearer to civilized man than the
tribe next “toward the beginning.” The interiors of their caverns were
cleared of rubbish, though still far from clean, and they had pallets of dried
grasses covered with the skins of leopard, lynx, and bear, while before the
entrances were barriers of stone and small, rudely circular stone ovens. The
walls of the cavern to which I was conducted were covered with drawings
scratched upon the sandstone. There were the outlines of the giant red-deer,
of mammoths, of tigers and other beasts. Here, as in the last tribe, there were
no children or any old people. The men of this tribe had two names, or rather
names of two syllables, and their language contained words of two syllables;
whereas in the tribe of Tsa the words were all of a single syllable, with the
exception of a very few like Atis and Galus. The chief’s name was To-jo,
and his household consisted of seven females and himself. These women
were much more comely, or rather less hideous than those of Tsa’s people;
one of them, even, was almost pretty, being less hairy and having a rather
nice skin, with high coloring.

They were all much interested in me and examined my clothing and

equipment carefully, handling and feeling and smelling of each article. I
learned from them that their people were known as Bandlu, or spear-men;
Tsa’s race was called Sto-lu—hatchetmen. Below these in the scale of
evolution came the Bo-lu, or club-men, and then the Alus, who had no
weapons and no language. In that word I recognized what to me seemed the
most remarkable discovery I had made upon Caprona, for unless it were
mere coincidence, I had come upon a word that had been handed down from
the beginning of spoken language upon earth, been handed down for millions
of years, perhaps, with little change. It was the sole remaining thread of the
ancient woof of a dawning culture which had been woven when Caprona was
a fiery mount upon a great land-mass teeming with life. It linked the
unfathomable then to the eternal now. And yet it may have been pure
coincidence; my better judgment tells me that it is coincidence that in Caspak
the term for speechless man is Alus, and in the outer world of our own day it
is Alalus.

The comely woman of whom I spoke was called So-ta, and she took such a
lively interest in me that To-jo finally objected to her attentions, emphasizing
his displeasure by knocking her down and kicking her into a corner of the
cavern. I leaped between them while he was still kicking her, and obtaining a
quick hold upon him, dragged him screaming with pain from the cave. Then I
made him promise not to hurt the she again, upon pain of worse punishment.
So-ta gave me a grateful look; but To-jo and the balance of his women were
sullen and ominous.
Later in the evening So-ta confided to me that she was soon to leave the tribe.

“So-ta soon to be Kro-lu,” she confided in a low whisper. I asked her what a
Kro-lu might be, and she tried to explain, but I do not yet know if I
understood her. From her gestures I deduced that the Kro-lus were a people
who were armed with bows and arrows, had vessels in which to cook their
food and huts of some sort in which they lived, and were accompanied by
animals. It was all very fragmentary and vague, but the idea seemed to be that
the Kro-lus were a more advanced people than the Bandlus. I pondered a
long time upon all that I had heard, before sleep came to me. I tried to find
some connection between these various races that would explain the
universal hope which each of them harbored that some day they would
become Galus. So-ta had given me a suggestion; but the resulting idea was so
weird that I could scarce even entertain it; yet it coincided with Ahm’s
expressed hope, with the various steps in evolution I had noted in the several
tribes I had encountered and with the range of type represented in each tribe.
For example, among the Band-lu were such types as So-ta, who seemed to
me to be the highest in the scale of evolution, and To-jo, who was just a
shade nearer the ape, while there were others who had flatter noses, more
prognathous faces and hairier bodies. The question puzzled me. Possibly in
the outer world the answer to it is locked in the bosom of the Sphinx. Who
knows? I do not.

Thinking the thoughts of a lunatic or a dope-fiend, I fell asleep; and when I

awoke, my hands and feet were securely tied and my weapons had been taken
from me. How they did it without awakening me I cannot tell you. It was
humiliating, but it was true. To-jo stood above me. The early light of morning
was dimly filtering into the cave.

“Tell me,” he demanded, “how to throw a man over my head and break his
neck, for I am going to kill you, and I wish to know this thing before you die.”

Of all the ingenuous declarations I have ever heard, this one copped the
proverbial bun. It struck me as so funny that, even in the face of death, I
laughed. Death, I may remark here, had, however, lost much of his terror for
me. I had become a disciple of Lys’ fleeting philosophy of the valuelessness
of human life. I realized that she was quite right—that we were but comic
figures hopping from the cradle to the grave, of interest to practically no
other created thing than ourselves and our few intimates.

Behind To-jo stood So-ta. She raised one hand with the palm toward me—
the Caspakian equivalent of a negative shake of the head.

“Let me think about it,” I parried, and To-jo said that he would wait until
night. He would give me a day to think it over; then he left, and the women
left—the men for the hunt, and the women, as I later learned from So-ta, for
the warm pool where they immersed their bodies as did the shes of the Sto-
lu. “Ata,” explained So-ta, when I questioned her as to the purpose of this
matutinal rite; but that was later.

I must have lain there bound and uncomfortable for two or three hours when
at last So-ta entered the cave. She carried a sharp knife—mine, in fact, and
with it she cut my bonds.

“Come!” she said. “So-ta will go with you back to the Galus. It is time that
So-ta left the Band-lu. Together we will go to the Kro-lu, and after that the
Galus. To-jo will kill you tonight. He will kill So-ta if he knows that So-ta
aided you. We will go together.”

“I will go with you to the Kro-lu,” I replied, “but then I must return to my
own people `toward the beginning.’”

“You cannot go back,” she said. “It is forbidden. They would kill you. Thus
far have you come—there is no returning.”

“But I must return,” I insisted. “My people are there. I must return and lead
them in this direction.”

She insisted, and I insisted; but at last we compromised. I was to escort her
as far as the country of the Kro-lu and then I was to go back after my own
people and lead them north into a land where the dangers were fewer and the
people less murderous. She brought me all my belongings that had been
filched from me—rifle, ammunition, knife, and thermos bottle, and then hand
in hand we descended the cliff and set off toward the north.
For three days we continued upon our way, until we arrived outside a village
of thatched huts just at dusk. So-ta said that she would enter alone; I must not
be seen if I did not intend to remain, as it was forbidden that one should
return and live after having advanced this far. So she left me. She was a dear
girl and a stanch and true comrade—more like a man than a woman. In her
simple barbaric way she was both refined and chaste. She had been the wife
of To-jo. Among the Kro-lu she would find another mate after the manner of
the strange Caspakian world; but she told me very frankly that whenever I
returned, she would leave her mate and come to me, as she preferred me
above all others. I was becoming a ladies’ man after a lifetime of
bashfulness!

At the outskirts of the village I left her without even seeing the sort of people
who inhabited it, and set off through the growing darkness toward the south.
On the third day I made a detour westward to avoid the country of the Band-
lu, as I did not care to be detained by a meeting with To-jo. On the sixth day I
came to the cliffs of the Sto-lu, and my heart beat fast as I approached them,
for here was Lys. Soon I would hold her tight in my arms again; soon her
warm lips would merge with mine. I felt sure that she was still safe among
the hatchet people, and I was already picturing the joy and the love-light in
her eyes when she should see me once more as I emerged from the last clump
of trees and almost ran toward the cliffs.

It was late in the morning. The women must have returned from the pool; yet
as I drew near, I saw no sign of life whatever. “They have remained longer,”
I thought; but when I was quite close to the base of the cliffs, I saw that which
dashed my hopes and my happiness to earth. Strewn along the ground were a
score of mute and horrible suggestions of what had taken place during my
absence—bones picked clean of flesh, the bones of manlike creatures, the
bones of many of the tribe of Sto-lu; nor in any cave was there sign of life.

Closely I examined the ghastly remains fearful each instant that I should find
the dainty skull that would shatter my happiness for life; but though I
searched diligently, picking up every one of the twenty-odd skulls, I found
none that was the skull of a creature but slightly removed from the ape. Hope,
then, still lived. For another three days I searched north and south, east and
west for the hatchetmen of Caspak; but never a trace of them did I find. It was
raining most of the time now, and the weather was as near cold as it ever
seems to get on Caprona.

At last I gave up the search and set off toward Fort Dinosaur. For a week—a
week filled with the terrors and dangers of a primeval world—I pushed on in
the direction I thought was south. The sun never shone; the rain scarcely ever
ceased falling. The beasts I met with were fewer in number but infinitely
more terrible in temper; yet I lived on until there came to me the realization
that I was hopelessly lost, that a year of sunshine would not again give me my
bearings; and while I was cast down by this terrifying knowledge, the
knowledge that I never again could find Lys, I stumbled upon another grave—
the grave of William James, with its little crude headstone and its scrawled
characters recording that he had died upon the 13th of September—killed by
a saber-tooth tiger.

I think that I almost gave up then. Never in my life have I felt more hopeless
or helpless or alone. I was lost. I could not find my friends. I did not even
know that they still lived; in fact, I could not bring myself to believe that they
did. I was sure that Lys was dead. I wanted myself to die, and yet I clung to
life—useless and hopeless and harrowing a thing as it had become. I clung to
life because some ancient, reptilian forbear had clung to life and transmitted
to me through the ages the most powerful motive that guided his minute brain
—the motive of self-preservation.

At last I came to the great barrier-cliffs; and after three days of mad effort—
of maniacal effort—I scaled them. I built crude ladders; I wedged sticks in
narrow fissures; I chopped toe-holds and finger-holds with my long knife; but
at last I scaled them. Near the summit I came upon a huge cavern. It is the
abode of some mighty winged creature of the Triassic—or rather it was.
Now it is mine. I slew the thing and took its abode. I reached the summit and
looked out upon the broad gray terrible Pacific of the far-southern winter. It
was cold up there. It is cold here today; yet here I sit watching, watching,
watching for the thing I know will never come—for a sail.
Chapter 10
Once a day I descend to the base of the cliff and hunt, and fill my stomach
with water from a clear cold spring. I have three gourds which I fill with
water and take back to my cave against the long nights. I have fashioned a
spear and a bow and arrow, that I may conserve my ammunition, which is
running low. My clothes are worn to shreds. Tomorrow I shall discard them
for leopard-skins which I have tanned and sewn into a garment strong and
warm. It is cold up here. I have a fire burning and I sit bent over it while I
write; but I am safe here. No other living creature ventures to the chill
summit of the barrier cliffs. I am safe, and I am alone with my sorrows and
my remembered joys—but without hope. It is said that hope springs eternal in
the human breast; but there is none in mine.

I am about done. Presently I shall fold these pages and push them into my
thermos bottle. I shall cork it and screw the cap tight, and then I shall hurl it
as far out into the sea as my strength will permit. The wind is off-shore; the
tide is running out; perhaps it will be carried into one of those numerous
ocean-currents which sweep perpetually from pole to pole and from
continent to continent, to be deposited at last upon some inhabited shore. If
fate is kind and this does happen, then, for God’s sake, come and get me!

It was a week ago that I wrote the preceding paragraph, which I thought
would end the written record of my life upon Caprona. I had paused to put a
new point on my quill and stir the crude ink (which I made by crushing a
black variety of berry and mixing it with water) before attaching my
signature, when faintly from the valley far below came an unmistakable
sound which brought me to my feet, trembling with excitement, to peer
eagerly downward from my dizzy ledge. How full of meaning that sound was
to me you may guess when I tell you that it was the report of a firearm! For a
moment my gaze traversed the landscape beneath until it was caught and held
by four figures near the base of the cliff—a human figure held at bay by three
hyaenodons, those ferocious and blood-thirsty wild dogs of the Eocene. A
fourth beast lay dead or dying near by.
I couldn’t be sure, looking down from above as I was; but yet I trembled like
a leaf in the intuitive belief that it was Lys, and my judgment served to
confirm my wild desire, for whoever it was carried only a pistol, and thus
had Lys been armed. The first wave of sudden joy which surged through me
was short-lived in the face of the swift-following conviction that the one who
fought below was already doomed. Luck and only luck it must have been
which had permitted that first shot to lay low one of the savage creatures, for
even such a heavy weapon as my pistol is entirely inadequate against even
the lesser carnivora of Caspak. In a moment the three would charge! A futile
shot would but tend more greatly to enrage the one it chanced to hit; and then
the three would drag down the little human figure and tear it to pieces.

And maybe it was Lys! My heart stood still at the thought, but mind and
muscle responded to the quick decision I was forced to make. There was but
a single hope—a single chance—and I took it. I raised my rifle to my
shoulder and took careful aim. It was a long shot, a dangerous shot, for unless
one is accustomed to it, shooting from a considerable altitude is most
deceptive work. There is, though, something about marksmanship which is
quite beyond all scientific laws.

Upon no other theory can I explain my marksmanship of that moment. Three

times my rifle spoke—three quick, short syllables of death. I did not take
conscious aim; and yet at each report a beast crumpled in its tracks!

From my ledge to the base of the cliff is a matter of several thousand feet of
dangerous climbing; yet I venture to say that the first ape from whose loins
my line has descended never could have equaled the speed with which I
literally dropped down the face of that rugged escarpment. The last two
hundred feet is over a steep incline of loose rubble to the valley bottom, and
I had just reached the top of this when there arose to my ears an agonized cry
—“Bowen! Bowen! Quick, my love, quick!”

I had been too much occupied with the dangers of the descent to glance down
toward the valley; but that cry which told me that it was indeed Lys, and that
she was again in danger, brought my eyes quickly upon her in time to see a
hairy, burly brute seize her and start off at a run toward the near-by wood.
From rock to rock, chamoislike, I leaped downward toward the valley, in
pursuit of Lys and her hideous abductor.
He was heavier than I by many pounds, and so weighted by the burden he
carried that I easily overtook him; and at last he turned, snarling, to face me.
It was Kho of the tribe of Tsa, the hatchetmen. He recognized me, and with a
low growl he threw Lys aside and came for me. “The she is mine,” he cried.
“I kill! I kill!”

I had had to discard my rifle before I commenced the rapid descent of the
cliff, so that now I was armed only with a hunting knife, and this I whipped
from its scabbard as Kho leaped toward me. He was a mighty beast, mightily
muscled, and the urge that has made males fight since the dawn of life on
earth filled him with the blood-lust and the thirst to slay; but not one whit less
did it fill me with the same primal passions. Two abysmal beasts sprang at
each other’s throats that day beneath the shadow of earth’s oldest cliffs—the
man of now and the man-thing of the earliest, forgotten then, imbued by the
same deathless passion that has come down unchanged through all the
epochs, periods and eras of time from the beginning, and which shall
continue to the incalculable end—woman, the imperishable Alpha and
Omega of life.

Kho closed and sought my jugular with his teeth. He seemed to forget the
hatchet dangling by its aurochs-hide thong at his hip, as I forgot, for the
moment, the dagger in my hand. And I doubt not but that Kho would easily
have bested me in an encounter of that sort had not Lys’ voice awakened
within my momentarily reverted brain the skill and cunning of reasoning man.
“Bowen!” she cried. “Your knife! Your knife!” It was enough. It recalled me
from the forgotten eon to which my brain had flown and left me once again a
modern man battling with a clumsy, unskilled brute. No longer did my jaws
snap at the hairy throat before me; but instead my knife sought and found a
space between two ribs over the savage heart. Kho voiced a single horrid
scream, stiffened spasmodically and sank to the earth. And Lys threw herself
into my arms. All the fears and sorrows of the past were wiped away, and
once again I was the happiest of men.

With some misgivings I shortly afterward cast my eyes upward toward the
precarious ledge which ran before my cave, for it seemed to me quite beyond
all reason to expect a dainty modern belle to essay the perils of that frightful
climb. I asked her if she thought she could brave the ascent, and she laughed
gayly in my face.

“Watch!” she cried, and ran eagerly toward the base of the cliff. Like a
squirrel she clambered swiftly aloft, so that I was forced to exert myself to
keep pace with her. At first she frightened me; but presently I was aware that
she was quite as safe here as was I. When we finally came to my ledge and I
again held her in my arms, she recalled to my mind that for several weeks she
had been living the life of a cave-girl with the tribe of hatchetmen. They had
been driven from their former caves by another tribe which had slain many
and carried off quite half the females, and the new cliffs to which they had
flown had proven far higher and more precipitous, so that she had become,
through necessity, a most practiced climber.

She told me of Kho’s desire for her, since all his females had been stolen and
of how her life had been a constant nightmare of terror as she sought by night
and by day to elude the great brute. For a time Nobs had been all the
protection she required; but one day he disappeared—nor has she seen him
since. She believes that he was deliberately made away with; and so do I, for
we both are sure that he never would have deserted her. With her means of
protection gone, Lys was now at the mercy of the hatchet-man; nor was it
many hours before he had caught her at the base of the cliff and seized her;
but as he bore her triumphantly aloft toward his cave, she had managed to
break loose and escape him.

“For three days he has pursued me,” she said, “through this horrible world.
How I have passed through in safety I cannot guess, nor how I have always
managed to outdistance him; yet I have done it, until just as you discovered
me. Fate was kind to us, Bowen.”

I nodded my head in assent and crushed her to me. And then we talked and
planned as I cooked antelope-steaks over my fire, and we came to the
conclusion that there was no hope of rescue, that she and I were doomed to
live and die upon Caprona. Well, it might be worse! I would rather live here
always with Lys than to live elsewhere without her; and she, dear girl, says
the same of me; but I am afraid of this life for her. It is a hard, fierce,
dangerous life, and I shall pray always that we shall be rescued from it—for
her sake.
That night the clouds broke, and the moon shone down upon our little ledge;
and there, hand in hand, we turned our faces toward heaven and plighted our
troth beneath the eyes of God. No human agency could have married us more
sacredly than we are wed. We are man and wife, and we are content. If God
wills it, we shall live out our lives here. If He wills otherwise, then this
manuscript which I shall now consign to the inscrutable forces of the sea
shall fall into friendly hands. However, we are each without hope. And so
we say good-bye in this, our last message to the world beyond the barrier
cliffs.

(Signed) Bowen J. Tyler, Jr. Lys La R. Tyler.

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Land That Time Forgot by Edgar
Rice Burroughs