Tales of Terror and Mystery
character, and a very fine fellow for his station in life. I was
standing at the Blue John Gap when he came across the field to me.
"Well, doctor," said he, "you're not afraid, anyhow."
"Afraid!" I answered. "Afraid of what?"
"Of it," said he, with a jerk of his thumb towards the black vault, "of
the Terror that lives in the Blue John Cave."
How absurdly easy it is for a legend to arise in a lonely countryside!
I examined him as to the reasons for his weird belief. It seems that
from time to time sheep have been missing from the fields, carried
bodily away, according to Armitage. That they could have wandered away
of their own accord and disappeared among the mountains was an
explanation to which he would not listen. On one occasion a pool of
blood had been found, and some tufts of wool. That also, I pointed
out, could be explained in a perfectly natural way. Further, the
nights upon which sheep disappeared were invariably very dark, cloudy
nights with no moon. This I met with the obvious retort that those were
the nights which a commonplace sheep-stealer would naturally choose for
his work. On one occasion a gap had been made in a wall, and some of
the stones scattered for a considerable distance. Human agency again,
in my opinion. Finally, Armitage clinched all his arguments by telling
me that he had actually heard the Creature--indeed, that anyone could
hear it who remained long enough at the Gap. It was a distant roaring
of an immense volume. I could not but smile at this, knowing, as I do,
the strange reverberations which come out of an underground water
system running amid the chasms of a limestone formation. My
incredulity annoyed Armitage so that he turned and left me with some
abruptness.
And now comes the queer point about the whole business. I was still
standing near the mouth of the cave turning over in my mind the various
statements of Armitage, and reflecting how readily they could be
explained away, when suddenly, from the depth of the tunnel beside me,
there issued a most extraordinary sound. How shall I describe it?
First of all, it seemed to be a great distance away, far down in the
bowels of the earth. Secondly, in spite of this suggestion of
distance, it was very loud. Lastly, it was not a boom, nor a crash,
such as one would associate with falling water or tumbling rock, but it
was a high whine, tremulous and vibrating, almost like the whinnying of
a horse. It was certainly a most remarkable experience, and one which
for a moment, I must admit, gave a new significance to Armitage's
words. I waited by the Blue John Gap for half an hour or more, but
there was no return of the sound, so at last I wandered back to the
farmhouse, rather mystified by what had occurred. Decidedly I shall
explore that cavern when my strength is restored. Of course,
Armitage's explanation is too absurd for discussion, and yet that sound
was certainly very strange. It still rings in my ears as I write.
April 20.--In the last three days I have made several expeditions to
the Blue John Gap, and have even penetrated some short distance, but my
bicycle lantern is so small and weak that I dare not trust myself very
far. I shall do the thing more systematically. I have heard no sound
at all, and could almost believe that I had been the victim of some
hallucination suggested, perhaps, by Armitage's conversation. Of
course, the whole idea is absurd, and yet I must confess that those
bushes at the entrance of the cave do present an appearance as if some
heavy creature had forced its way through them. I begin to be keenly
interested. I have said nothing to the Miss Allertons, for they are
quite superstitious enough already, but I have bought some candles, and
mean to investigate for myself.
I observed this morning that among the numerous tufts of sheep's wool
which lay among the bushes near the cavern there was one which was
smeared with blood. Of course, my reason tells me that if sheep wander
into such rocky places they are likely to injure themselves, and yet
somehow that splash of crimson gave me a sudden shock, and for a moment
I found myself shrinking back in horror from the old Roman arch. A
fetid breath seemed to ooze from the black depths into which I peered.
Could it indeed be possible that some nameless thing, some dreadful
presence, was lurking down yonder? I should have been incapable of
such feelings in the days of my strength, but one grows more nervous
and fanciful when one's health is shaken.
For the moment I weakened in my resolution, and was ready to leave the
secret of the old mine, if one exists, for ever unsolved. But tonight
my interest has returned and my nerves grown more steady. Tomorrow I
trust that I shall have gone more deeply into this matter.
April 22.--Let me try and set down as accurately as I can my
extraordinary experience of yesterday. I started in the afternoon, and
made my way to the Blue John Gap. I confess that my misgivings
returned as I gazed into its depths, and I wished that I had brought a
companion to share my exploration. Finally, with a return of
resolution, I lit my candle, pushed my way through the briars, and
descended into the rocky shaft.
It went down at an acute angle for some fifty feet, the floor being
covered with broken stone. Thence there extended a long, straight
passage cut in the solid rock. I am no geologist, but the lining of
this corridor was certainly of some harder material than limestone, for
there were points where I could actually see the tool-marks which the
old miners had left in their excavation, as fresh as if they had been
done yesterday. Down this strange, old-world corridor I stumbled, my
feeble flame throwing a dim circle of light around me, which made the
shadows beyond the more threatening and obscure. Finally, I came to a
spot where the Roman tunnel opened into a water-worn cavern--a huge
hall, hung with long white icicles of lime deposit. From this central
chamber I could dimly perceive that a number of passages worn by the
subterranean streams wound away into the depths of the earth. I was
standing there wondering whether I had better return, or whether I dare
venture farther into this dangerous labyrinth, when my eyes fell upon
something at my feet which strongly arrested my attention.
The greater part of the floor of the cavern was covered with boulders
of rock or with hard incrustations of lime, but at this particular
point there had been a drip from the distant roof, which had left a
patch of soft mud. In the very centre of this there was a huge
mark--an ill-defined blotch, deep, broad and irregular, as if a great
boulder had fallen upon it. No loose stone lay near, however, nor was
there anything to account for the impression. It was far too large to
be caused by any possible animal, and besides, there was only the one,
and the patch of mud was of such a size that no reasonable stride could
have covered it. As I rose from the examination of that singular mark
and then looked round into the black shadows which hemmed me in, I must
confess that I felt for a moment a most unpleasant sinking of my heart,
and that, do what I could, the candle trembled in my outstretched hand.
I soon recovered my nerve, however, when I reflected how absurd it was
to associate so huge and shapeless a mark with the track of any known
animal. Even an elephant could not have produced it. I determined,
therefore, that I would not be scared by vague and senseless fears from
carrying out my exploration. Before proceeding, I took good note of a
curious rock formation in the wall by which I could recognize the
entrance of the Roman tunnel. The precaution was very necessary, for
the great cave, so far as I could see it, was intersected by passages.
Having made sure of my position, and reassured myself by examining my
spare candles and my matches, I advanced slowly over the rocky and
uneven surface of the cavern.
And now I come to the point where I met with such sudden and desperate
disaster. A stream, some twenty feet broad, ran across my path, and I
walked for some little distance along the bank to find a spot where I
could cross dry-shod. Finally, I came to a place where a single flat
boulder lay near the centre, which I could reach in a stride. As it
chanced, however, the rock had been cut away and made top-heavy by the
rush of the stream, so that it tilted over as I landed on it and shot
me into the ice-cold water. My candle went out, and I found myself
floundering about in utter and absolute darkness.
I staggered to my feet again, more amused than alarmed by my adventure.
The candle had fallen from my hand, and was lost in the stream, but I
had two others in my pocket, so that it was of no importance. I got
one of them ready, and drew out my box of matches to light it. Only
then did I realize my position. The box had been soaked in my fall
into the river. It was impossible to strike the matches.
A cold hand seemed to close round my heart as I realized my position.
The darkness was opaque and horrible. It was so utter one put one's
hand up to one's face as if to press off something solid. I stood
still, and by an effort I steadied myself. I tried to reconstruct in
my mind a map of the floor of the cavern as I had last seen it. Alas!
the bearings which had impressed themselves upon my mind were high on
the wall, and not to be found by touch. Still, I remembered in a
general way how the sides were situated, and I hoped that by groping my
way along them I should at last come to the opening of the Roman
tunnel. Moving very slowly, and continually striking against the
rocks, I set out on this desperate quest.
But I very soon realized how impossible it was. In that black, velvety
darkness one lost all one's bearings in an instant. Before I had made
a dozen paces, I was utterly bewildered as to my whereabouts. The
rippling of the stream, which was the one sound audible, showed me
where it lay, but the moment that I left its bank I was utterly lost.
The idea of finding my way back in absolute darkness through that
limestone labyrinth was clearly an impossible one.
I sat down upon a boulder and reflected upon my unfortunate plight. I
had not told anyone that I proposed to come to the Blue John mine, and
it was unlikely that a search party would come after me. Therefore I
must trust to my own resources to get clear of the danger. There was
only one hope, and that was that the matches might dry. When I fell
into the river, only half of me had got thoroughly wet. My left
shoulder had remained above the water. I took the box of matches,
therefore, and put it into my left armpit. The moist air of the cavern
might possibly be counteracted by the heat of my body, but even so, I
knew that I could not hope to get a light for many hours. Meanwhile
there was nothing for it but to wait.
By good luck I had slipped several biscuits into my pocket before I
left the farm-house. These I now devoured, and washed them down with a
draught from that wretched stream which had been the cause of all my
misfortunes. Then I felt about for a comfortable seat among the rocks,
and, having discovered a place where I could get a support for my back,
I stretched out my legs and settled myself down to wait. I was
wretchedly damp and cold, but I tried to cheer myself with the
reflection that modern science prescribed open windows and walks in all
weather for my disease. Gradually, lulled by the monotonous gurgle of
the stream, and by the absolute darkness, I sank into an uneasy slumber.
How long this lasted I cannot say. It may have been for an hour, it
may have been for several. Suddenly I sat up on my rock couch, with