The Land That Time Forgot
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 Palezeoic
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 wondrous
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 has
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 of 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