The Lost World
'On that conical bullet his one chance hangs,
'Tis the weak one's advantage fair.'
Hope you know your Gordon, for he's the poet of the horse and the gun
and the man that handles both. Now, here's a useful tool--.470,
telescopic sight, double ejector, point-blank up to three-fifty.
That's the rifle I used against the Peruvian slave-drivers three years
ago. I was the flail of the Lord up in those parts, I may tell you,
though you won't find it in any Blue-book. There are times, young
fellah, when every one of us must make a stand for human right and
justice, or you never feel clean again. That's why I made a little war
on my own. Declared it myself, waged it myself, ended it myself. Each
of those nicks is for a slave murderer--a good row of them--what? That
big one is for Pedro Lopez, the king of them all, that I killed in a
backwater of the Putomayo River. Now, here's something that would do
for you." He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle. "Well
rubbered at the stock, sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip.
You can trust your life to that." He handed it to me and closed the
door of his oak cabinet.
"By the way," he continued, coming back to his chair, "what do you know
of this Professor Challenger?"
"I never saw him till to-day."
"Well, neither did I. It's funny we should both sail under sealed
orders from a man we don't know. He seemed an uppish old bird. His
brothers of science don't seem too fond of him, either. How came you
to take an interest in the affair?"
I told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listened
intently. Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it on the
table.
"I believe every single word he said to you was the truth," said he,
earnestly, "and, mind you, I have something to go on when I speak like
that. South America is a place I love, and I think, if you take it
right through from Darien to Fuego, it's the grandest, richest, most
wonderful bit of earth upon this planet. People don't know it yet, and
don't realize what it may become. I've been up an' down it from end to
end, and had two dry seasons in those very parts, as I told you when I
spoke of the war I made on the slave-dealers. Well, when I was up
there I heard some yarns of the same kind--traditions of Indians and
the like, but with somethin' behind them, no doubt. The more you knew
of that country, young fellah, the more you would understand that
anythin' was possible--ANYTHIN'! There are just some narrow
water-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is all
darkness. Now, down here in the Matto Grande"--he swept his cigar over
a part of the map--"or up in this corner where three countries meet,
nothin' would surprise me. As that chap said to-night, there are
fifty-thousand miles of water-way runnin' through a forest that is very
near the size of Europe. You and I could be as far away from each
other as Scotland is from Constantinople, and yet each of us be in the
same great Brazilian forest. Man has just made a track here and a
scrape there in the maze. Why, the river rises and falls the best part
of forty feet, and half the country is a morass that you can't pass
over. Why shouldn't somethin' new and wonderful lie in such a country?
And why shouldn't we be the men to find it out? Besides," he added,
his queer, gaunt face shining with delight, "there's a sportin' risk in
every mile of it. I'm like an old golf-ball--I've had all the white
paint knocked off me long ago. Life can whack me about now, and it
can't leave a mark. But a sportin' risk, young fellah, that's the salt
of existence. Then it's worth livin' again. We're all gettin' a deal
too soft and dull and comfy. Give me the great waste lands and the
wide spaces, with a gun in my fist and somethin' to look for that's
worth findin'. I've tried war and steeplechasin' and aeroplanes, but
this huntin' of beasts that look like a lobster-supper dream is a
brand-new sensation." He chuckled with glee at the prospect.
Perhaps I have dwelt too long upon this new acquaintance, but he is to
be my comrade for many a day, and so I have tried to set him down as I
first saw him, with his quaint personality and his queer little tricks
of speech and of thought. It was only the need of getting in the
account of my meeting which drew me at last from his company. I left
him seated amid his pink radiance, oiling the lock of his favorite
rifle, while he still chuckled to himself at the thought of the
adventures which awaited us. It was very clear to me that if dangers
lay before us I could not in all England have found a cooler head or a
braver spirit with which to share them.
That night, wearied as I was after the wonderful happenings of the day,
I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole
situation, which he thought important enough to bring next morning
before the notice of Sir George Beaumont, the chief. It was agreed
that I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of
successive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited
for the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later,
according to the wishes of Professor Challenger, since we could not yet
know what conditions he might attach to those directions which should
guide us to the unknown land. In response to a telephone inquiry, we
received nothing more definite than a fulmination against the Press,
ending up with the remark that if we would notify our boat he would
hand us any directions which he might think it proper to give us at the
moment of starting. A second question from us failed to elicit any
answer at all, save a plaintive bleat from his wife to the effect that
her husband was in a very violent temper already, and that she hoped we
would do nothing to make it worse. A third attempt, later in the day,
provoked a terrific crash, and a subsequent message from the Central
Exchange that Professor Challenger's receiver had been shattered.
After that we abandoned all attempt at communication.
And now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. From
now onwards (if, indeed, any continuation of this narrative should ever
reach you) it can only be through the paper which I represent. In the
hands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have led
up to one of the most remarkable expeditions of all time, so that if I
never return to England there shall be some record as to how the affair
came about. I am writing these last lines in the saloon of the Booth
liner Francisca, and they will go back by the pilot to the keeping of
Mr. McArdle. Let me draw one last picture before I close the
notebook--a picture which is the last memory of the old country which I
bear away with me. It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a
thin, cold rain is falling. Three shining mackintoshed figures are
walking down the quay, making for the gang-plank of the great liner
from which the blue-peter is flying. In front of them a porter pushes
a trolley piled high with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. Professor
Summerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with dragging steps and
drooping head, as one who is already profoundly sorry for himself.
Lord John Roxton steps briskly, and his thin, eager face beams forth
between his hunting-cap and his muffler. As for myself, I am glad to
have got the bustling days of preparation and the pangs of leave-taking
behind me, and I have no doubt that I show it in my bearing. Suddenly,
just as we reach the vessel, there is a shout behind us. It is
Professor Challenger, who had promised to see us off. He runs after
us, a puffing, red-faced, irascible figure.
"No thank you," says he; "I should much prefer not to go aboard. I
have only a few words to say to you, and they can very well be said
where we are. I beg you not to imagine that I am in any way indebted
to you for making this journey. I would have you to understand that it
is a matter of perfect indifference to me, and I refuse to entertain
the most remote sense of personal obligation. Truth is truth, and
nothing which you can report can affect it in any way, though it may
excite the emotions and allay the curiosity of a number of very
ineffectual people. My directions for your instruction and guidance
are in this sealed envelope. You will open it when you reach a town
upon the Amazon which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hour
which is marked upon the outside. Have I made myself clear? I leave
the strict observance of my conditions entirely to your honor. No, Mr.
Malone, I will place no restriction upon your correspondence, since the
ventilation of the facts is the object of your journey; but I demand
that you shall give no particulars as to your exact destination, and
that nothing be actually published until your return. Good-bye, sir.
You have done something to mitigate my feelings for the loathsome
profession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord John.
Science is, as I understand, a sealed book to you; but you may
congratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you. You
will, no doubt, have the opportunity of describing in the Field how you
brought down the rocketing dimorphodon. And good-bye to you also,
Professor Summerlee. If you are still capable of self-improvement, of
which I am frankly unconvinced, you will surely return to London a
wiser man."
So he turned upon his heel, and a minute later from the deck I could
see his short, squat figure bobbing about in the distance as he made
his way back to his train. Well, we are well down Channel now.
There's the last bell for letters, and it's good-bye to the pilot.
We'll be "down, hull-down, on the old trail" from now on. God bless
all we leave behind us, and send us safely back.
CHAPTER VII
"To-morrow we Disappear into the Unknown"
I will not bore those whom this narrative may reach by an account of
our luxurious voyage upon the Booth liner, nor will I tell of our
week's stay at Para (save that I should wish to acknowledge the great
kindness of the Pereira da Pinta Company in helping us to get together
our equipment). I will also allude very briefly to our river journey,
up a wide, slow-moving, clay-tinted stream, in a steamer which was
little smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic.
Eventually we found ourselves through the narrows of Obidos and reached
the town of Manaos. Here we were rescued from the limited attractions
of the local inn by Mr. Shortman, the representative of the British and
Brazilian Trading Company. In his hospitable Fazenda we spent our time
until the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions
given to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprising
events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my
comrades in this enterprise, and of the associates whom we had already
gathered together in South America. I speak freely, and I leave the
use of my material to your own discretion, Mr. McArdle, since it is
through your hands that this report must pass before it reaches the
world.
The scientific attainments of Professor Summerlee are too well known
for me to trouble to recapitulate them. He is better equipped for a
rough expedition of this sort than one would imagine at first sight.
His tall, gaunt, stringy figure is insensible to fatigue, and his dry,
half-sarcastic, and often wholly unsympathetic manner is uninfluenced
by any change in his surroundings. Though in his sixty-sixth year, I
have never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the occasional
hardships which we have had to encounter. I had regarded his presence