The Moon Pool Read online

  CHAPTER X

  The Moon Pool

  Da Costa, who had come aboard unnoticed by either of us, now tapped meon the arm.

  "Doctair Goodwin," he said, "can I see you in my cabin, sair?"

  At last, then, he was going to speak. I followed him.

  "Doctair," he said, when we had entered, "this is a veree strangething that has happened to Olaf. Veree strange. An' the natives ofPonape, they have been very much excite' lately.

  "Of what they fear I know nothing, nothing!" Again that quick, furtivecrossing of himself. "But this I have to tell you. There came to mefrom Ranaloa last month a man, a Russian, a doctair, like you. Hisname it was Marakinoff. I take him to Ponape an' the natives therethey will not take him to the Nan-Matal where he wish to go--no! So Itake him. We leave in a boat, wit' much instrument carefully tied up.I leave him there wit' the boat an' the food. He tell me to tell noone an' pay me not to. But you are a friend an' Olaf he depend muchupon you an' so I tell you, sair."

  "You know nothing more than this, Da Costa?" I asked. "Nothing ofanother expedition?"

  "No," he shook his head vehemently. "Nothing more."

  "Hear the name Throckmartin while you were there?" I persisted.

  "No," his eyes were steady as he answered but the pallor had creptagain into his face.

  I was not so sure. But if he knew more than he had told me why was heafraid to speak? My anxiety deepened and later I sought relief from itby repeating the conversation to O'Keefe.

  "A Russian, eh," he said. "Well, they can be damned nice, ordamned--otherwise. Considering what you did for me, I hope I can lookhim over before the Dolphin shows up."

  Next morning we raised Ponape, without further incident, and beforenoon the Suwarna and the Brunhilda had dropped anchor in the harbour.Upon the excitement and manifest dread of the natives, when we soughtamong them for carriers and workmen to accompany us, I will not dwell.It is enough to say that no payment we offered could induce a singleone of them to go to the Nan-Matal. Nor would they say why.

  Finally it was agreed that the Brunhilda should be left in charge of ahalf-breed Chinaman, whom both Da Costa and Huldricksson knew andtrusted. We piled her long-boat up with my instruments and food andcamping equipment. The Suwarna took us around to Metalanim Harbour,and there, with the tops of ancient sea walls deep in the blue waterbeneath us, and the ruins looming up out of the mangroves, a scantmile from us, left us.

  Then with Huldricksson manipulating our small sail, and Larry at therudder, we rounded the titanic wall that swept down into the depths,and turned at last into the canal that Throckmartin, on his map, hadmarked as that which, running between frowning Nan-Tauach and itssatellite islet, Tau, led straight to the gate of the place of ancientmysteries.

  And as we entered that channel we were enveloped by a silence; asilence so intense, so--weighted that it seemed to have substance; analien silence that clung and stifled and still stood aloof fromus--the living. It was a stillness, such as might follow the longtramping of millions into the grave; it was--paradoxical as it maybe--filled with the withdrawal of life.

  Standing down in the chambered depths of the Great Pyramid I had knownsomething of such silence--but never such intensity as this. Larryfelt it and I saw him look at me askance. If Olaf, sitting in the bow,felt it, too, he gave no sign; his blue eyes, with again the glint ofice within them, watched the channel before us.

  As we passed, there arose upon our left sheer walls of black basaltblocks, cyclopean, towering fifty feet or more, broken here and thereby the sinking of their deep foundations.

  In front of us the mangroves widened out and filled the canal. Onour right the lesser walls of Tau, sombre blocks smoothed and squaredand set with a cold, mathematical nicety that filled me with vagueawe, slipped by. Through breaks I caught glimpses of dark ruins and ofgreat fallen stones that seemed to crouch and menace us, as we passed.Somewhere there, hidden, were the seven globes that poured the moonfire down upon the Moon Pool.

  Now we were among the mangroves and, sail down, the three of us pushedand pulled the boat through their tangled roots and branches. Thenoise of our passing split the silence like a profanation, and fromthe ancient bastions came murmurs--forbidding, strangely sinister. Andnow we were through, floating on a little open space of shadow-filledwater. Before us lifted the gateway of Nan-Tauach, gigantic, broken,incredibly old; shattered portals through which had passed men andwomen of earth's dawn; old with a weight of years that pressedleadenly upon the eyes that looked upon it, and yet was in somecurious indefinable way--menacingly defiant.

  Beyond the gate, back from the portals, stretched a flight of enormousbasalt slabs, a giant's stairway indeed; and from each side of itmarched the high walls that were the Dweller's pathway. None of usspoke as we grounded the boat and dragged it upon a half-submergedpier. And when we did speak it was in whispers.

  "What next?" asked Larry.

  "I think we ought to take a look around," I replied in the same lowtones. "We'll climb the wall here and take a flash about. The wholeplace ought to be plain as day from that height."

  Huldricksson, his blue eyes alert, nodded. With the greatestdifficulty we clambered up the broken blocks.

  To the east and south of us, set like children's blocks in the midstof the sapphire sea, lay dozens of islets, none of them covering morethan two square miles of surface; each of them a perfect square oroblong within its protecting walls.

  On none was there sign of life, save for a few great birds thathovered here and there, and gulls dipping in the blue waves beyond.

  We turned our gaze down upon the island on which we stood. It was, Iestimated, about three-quarters of a mile square. The sea wallenclosed it. It was really an enormous basalt-sided open cube, andwithin it two other open cubes. The enclosure between the first andsecond wall was stone paved, with here and there a broken pillar andlong stone benches. The hibiscus, the aloe tree, and a number of smallshrubs had found place, but seemed only to intensify its starkloneliness.

  "Wonder where the Russian can be?" asked Larry.

  I shook my head. There was no sign of life here. Had Marakinoffgone--or had the Dweller taken him, too? Whatever had happened, therewas no trace of him below us or on any of the islets within our rangeof vision. We scrambled down the side of the gateway. Olaf looked atme wistfully.

  "We start the search now, Olaf," I said. "And first, O'Keefe, let ussee whether the grey stone is really here. After that we will set upcamp, and while I unpack, you and Olaf search the island. It won'ttake long."

  Larry gave a look at his service automatic and grinned. "Lead on,Macduff," he said. We made our way up the steps, through the outerenclosures and into the central square, I confess to a fire ofscientific curiosity and eagerness tinged with a dread that O'Keefe'sanalysis might be true. Would we find the moving slab and, if so,would it be as Throckmartin had described? If so, then even Larrywould have to admit that here was something that theories of gases andluminous emanations would not explain; and the first test of the wholeamazing story would be passed. But if not--And there before us, thefaintest tinge of grey setting it apart from its neighbouring blocksof basalt, was the moon door!

  There was no mistaking it. This was, in very deed, the portal throughwhich Throckmartin had seen pass that gloriously dreadful apparitionhe called the Dweller. At its base was the curious, seemingly polishedcup-like depression within which, my lost friend had told me, theopening door swung.

  What was that portal--more enigmatic than was ever sphinx? And whatlay beyond it? What did that smooth stone, whose wan deadnesswhispered of ages-old corridors of time opening out into alien,unimaginable vistas, hide? It had cost the world of scienceThrockmartin's great brain--as it had cost Throckmartin those heloved. It had drawn me to it in search of Throckmartin--and its shadowhad fallen upon the soul of Olaf the Norseman; and upon what thousandsupon thousands more I wondered, since the brains that had conceived ithad vanished with their secret knowledge?

 
What lay beyond it?

  I stretched out a shaking hand and touched the surface of the slab. Afaint thrill passed through my hand and arm, oddly unfamiliar and asoddly unpleasant; as of electric contact holding the very essence ofcold. O'Keefe, watching, imitated my action. As his fingers rested onthe stone his face filled with astonishment.

  "It's the door?" he asked. I nodded. There was a low whistle fromhim and he pointed up toward the top of the grey stone. I followed thegesture and saw, above the moon door and on each side of it, twogently curving bosses of rock, perhaps a foot in diameter.

  "The moon door's keys," I said.

  "It begins to look so," answered Larry. "If we can find them," headded.

  "There's nothing we can do till moonrise," I replied. "And we've nonetoo much time to prepare as it is. Come!"

  A little later we were beside our boat. We lightered it, set up thetent, and as it was now but a short hour to sundown I bade them leaveme and make their search. They went off together, and I busied myselfwith opening some of the paraphernalia I had brought with me.

  First of all I took out the two Becquerel ray-condensers that I hadbought in Sydney. Their lenses would collect and intensify to thefullest extent any light directed upon them. I had found them mostuseful in making spectroscopic analysis of luminous vapours, and Iknew that at Yerkes Observatory splendid results had been obtainedfrom them in collecting the diffused radiance of the nebulae for thesame purpose.

  If my theory of the grey slab's mechanism were correct, it waspractically certain that with the satellite only a few nights past thefull we could concentrate enough light on the bosses to open the rock.And as the ray streams through the seven globes described byThrockmartin would be too weak to energize the Pool, we could enterthe chamber free from any fear of encountering its tenant, make ourpreliminary observations and go forth before the moon had dropped sofar that the concentration in the condensers would fall below thatnecessary to keep the portal from closing.

  I took out also a small spectroscope, and a few other instruments forthe analysis of certain light manifestations and the testing of metaland liquid. Finally, I put aside my emergency medical kit.

  I had hardly finished examining and adjusting these before O'Keefe andHuldricksson returned. They reported signs of a camp at least ten daysold beside the northern wall of the outer court, but beyond that noevidence of others beyond ourselves on Nan-Tauach.

  We prepared supper, ate and talked a little, but for the most partwere silent. Even Larry's high spirits were not in evidence; half adozen times I saw him take out his automatic and look it over. He wasmore thoughtful than I had ever seen him. Once he went into the tent,rummaged about a bit and brought out another revolver which, he said,he had got from Da Costa, and a half-dozen clips of cartridges. Hepassed the gun over to Olaf.

  At last a glow in the southeast heralded the rising moon. I picked upmy instruments and the medical kit; Larry and Olaf shouldered each ashort ladder that was part of my equipment, and, with our electricflashes pointing the way, walked up the great stairs, through theenclosures, and straight to the grey stone.

  By this time the moon had risen and its clipped light shone full uponthe slab. I saw faint gleams pass over it as of fleetingphosphorescence--but so faint were they that I could not be sure ofthe truth of my observation.

  We set the ladders in place. Olaf I assigned to stand before the doorand watch for the first signs of its opening--if open it should. TheBecquerels were set within three-inch tripods, whose feet I hadequipped with vacuum rings to enable them to hold fast to the rock.

  I scaled one ladder and fastened a condenser over the boss; descended;sent Larry up to watch it, and, ascending the second ladder, rapidlyfixed the other in its place. Then, with O'Keefe watchful on hisperch, I on mine, and Olaf's eyes fixed upon the moon door, we beganour vigil. Suddenly there was an exclamation from Larry.

  "Seven little lights are beginning to glow on this stone!" he cried.

  But I had already seen those beneath my lens begin to gleam out with asilvery lustre. Swiftly the rays within the condenser began to thickenand increase, and as they did so the seven small circles waxed likestars growing out of the dusk, and with a queer--curdled is the bestword I can find to define it--radiance entirely strange to me.

  Beneath me I heard a faint, sighing murmur and then the voice ofHuldricksson:

  "It opens--the stone turns--"

  I began to climb down the ladder. Again came Olaf's voice:

  "The stone--it is open--" And then a shriek, a wail of blended anguishand pity, of rage and despair--and the sound of swift footsteps racingthrough the wall beneath me!

  I dropped to the ground. The moon door was wide open, and through itI caught a glimpse of a corridor filled with a faint, pearly vaporouslight like earliest misty dawn. But of Olaf I could see--nothing! Andeven as I stood, gaping, from behind me came the sharp crack of arifle; the glass of the condenser at Larry's side flew into fragments;he dropped swiftly to the ground, the automatic in his hand flashedonce, twice, into the darkness.

  And the moon door began to pivot slowly, slowly back into its place!

  I rushed toward the turning stone with the wild idea of holding itopen. As I thrust my hands against it there came at my back a snarland an oath and Larry staggered under the impact of a body that hadflung itself straight at his throat. He reeled at the lip of theshallow cup at the base of the slab, slipped upon its polished curve,fell and rolled with that which had attacked him, kicking andwrithing, straight through the narrowing portal into the passage!

  Forgetting all else, I sprang to his aid. As I leaped I felt theclosing edge of the moon door graze my side. Then, as Larry raised afist, brought it down upon the temple of the man who had grappled withhim and rose from the twitching body unsteadily to his feet, I heardshuddering past me a mournful whisper; spun about as though somegiant's hand had whirled me--

  The end of the corridor no longer opened out into the moonlit squareof ruined Nan-Tauach. It was barred by a solid mass of glimmeringstone. The moon door had closed!

  O'Keefe took a stumbling step toward the barrier behind us. There wasno mark of juncture with the shining walls; the slab fitted into thesides as closely as a mosaic.

  "It's shut all right," said Larry. "But if there's a way in, there'sa way out. Anyway, Doc, we're right in the pew we've been headingfor--so why worry?" He grinned at me cheerfully. The man on the floorgroaned, and he dropped to his knees beside him.

  "Marakinoff!" he cried.

  At my exclamation he moved aside, turning the face so I could see it.It was clearly Russian, and just as clearly its possessor was one ofunusual force and intellect.

  The strong, massive brow with orbital ridge unusually developed, thedominant, high-bridged nose, the straight lips with their more thansuggestion of latent cruelty, and the strong lines of the jaw beneatha black, pointed beard all gave evidence that here was a personalitybeyond the ordinary.

  "Couldn't be anybody else," said Larry, breaking in on my thoughts."He must have been watching us over there from Chau-ta-leur's vaultall the time."

  Swiftly he ran practised hands over his body; then stood erect,holding out to me two wicked-looking magazine pistols and a knife. "Hegot one of my bullets through his right forearm, too," he said. "Justa flesh wound, but it made him drop his rifle. Some arsenal, ourlittle Russian scientist, what?"

  I opened my medical kit. The wound was a slight one, and Larry stoodlooking on as I bandaged it.

  "Got another one of those condensers?" he asked, suddenly. "And doyou suppose Olaf will know enough to use it?"

  "Larry," I answered, "Olaf's not outside! He's in here somewhere!"

  His jaw dropped.

  "The hell you say!" he whispered.

  "Didn't you hear him shriek when the stone opened?" I asked.

  "I heard him yell, yes," he said. "But I didn't know what was thematter. And then this wildcat jumped me--" He paused and his eyeswidened. "Which way did he go?" he
asked swiftly. I pointed down thefaintly glowing passage.

  "There's only one way," I said.

  "Watch that bird close," hissed O'Keefe, pointing to Marakinoff--andpistol in hand stretched his long legs and raced away. I looked downat the Russian. His eyes were open, and he reached out a hand to me. Ilifted him to his feet.

  "I have heard," he said. "We follow, quick. If you will take my arm,please, I am shaken yet, yes--" I gripped his shoulder without a word,and the two of us set off down the corridor after O'Keefe. Marakinoffwas gasping, and his weight pressed upon me heavily, but he moved withall the will and strength that were in him.

  As we ran I took hasty note of the tunnel. Its sides were smooth andpolished, and the light seemed to come not from their surfaces, butfrom far within them--giving to the walls an illusive aspect ofdistance and depth; rendering them in a peculiarly weirdway--spacious. The passage turned, twisted, ran down, turned again. Itcame to me that the light that illumined the tunnel was given out bytiny points deep within the stone, sprang from the points ripplinglyand spread upon their polished faces.

  There was a cry from Larry far ahead.

  "Olaf!"

  I gripped Marakinoff's arm closer and we sped on. Now we were comingfast to the end of the passage. Before us was a high arch, and throughit I glimpsed a dim, shifting luminosity as of mist filled withrainbows. We reached the portal and I looked into a chamber that mighthave been transported from that enchanted palace of the Jinn King thatrises beyond the magic mountains of Kaf.

  Before me stood O'Keefe and a dozen feet in front of him,Huldricksson, with something clasped tightly in his arms. TheNorseman's feet were at the verge of a shining, silvery lip of stonewithin whose oval lay a blue pool. And down upon this pool staringupward like a gigantic eye, fell seven pillars of phantom light--oneof them amethyst, one of rose, another of white, a fourth of blue, andthree of emerald, of silver, and of amber. They fell each upon theazure surface, and I knew that these were the seven streams ofradiance, within which the Dweller took shape--now but pale ghosts oftheir brilliancy when the full energy of the moon stream raced throughthem.

  Huldricksson bent and placed on the shining silver lip of the Poolthat which he held--and I saw that it was the body of a child! He setit there so gently, bent over the side and thrust a hand down into thewater. And as he did so he moaned and lurched against the little bodythat lay before him. Instantly the form moved--and slipped over theverge into the blue. Huldricksson threw his body over the stone, handsclutching, arms thrust deep down--and from his lips issued along-drawn, heart-shrivelling wail of pain and of anguish that held init nothing human!

  Close on its wake came a cry from Marakinoff.

  "Catch him!" shouted the Russian. "Drag him back! Quick!"

  He leaped forward, but before he could half clear the distance,O'Keefe had leaped too, had caught the Norseman by the shoulders andtoppled him backward, where he lay whimpering and sobbing. And as Irushed behind Marakinoff I saw Larry lean over the lip of the Pool andcover his eyes with a shaking hand; saw the Russian peer into it withreal pity in his cold eyes.

  Then I stared down myself into the Moon Pool, and there, sinking, wasa little maid whose dead face and fixed, terror-filled eyes lookedstraight into mine; and ever sinking slowly, slowly--vanished! And Iknew that this was Olaf's Freda, his beloved yndling!

  But where was the mother, and where had Olaf found his babe?

  The Russian was first to speak.

  "You have nitroglycerin there, yes?" he asked, pointing toward mymedical kit that I had gripped unconsciously and carried with meduring the mad rush down the passage. I nodded and drew it out.

  "Hypodermic," he ordered next, curtly; took the syringe, filled itaccurately with its one one-hundredth of a grain dosage, and leanedover Huldricksson. He rolled up the sailor's sleeves half-way to theshoulder. The arms were white with somewhat of that weirdsemitranslucence that I had seen on Throckmartin's breast where atendril of the Dweller had touched him; and his hands were of the samewhiteness--like a baroque pearl. Above the line of white, Marakinoffthrust the needle.

  "He will need all his heart can do," he said to me.

  Then he reached down into a belt about his waist and drew from it asmall, flat flask of what seemed to be lead. He opened it and let afew drops of its contents fall on each arm of the Norwegian. Theliquid sparkled and instantly began to spread over the skin much asoil or gasoline dropped on water does--only far more rapidly. And asit spread it drew a sparkling film over the marbled flesh and littlewisps of vapour rose from it. The Norseman's mighty chest heaved withagony. His hands clenched. The Russian gave a grunt of satisfaction atthis, dropped a little more of the liquid, and then, watching closely,grunted again and leaned back. Huldricksson's laboured breathingceased, his head dropped upon Larry's knee, and from his arms andhands the whiteness swiftly withdrew.

  Marakinoff arose and contemplated us--almost benevolently.

  "He will all right be in five minutes," he said. "I know. I do it topay for that shot of mine, and also because we will need him. Yes." Heturned to Larry. "You have a poonch like a mule kick, my youngfriend," he said. "Some time you pay me for that, too, eh?" He smiled;and the quality of the grimace was not exactly reassuring. Larrylooked him over quizzically.

  "You're Marakinoff, of course," he said. The Russian nodded,betraying no surprise at the recognition.

  "And you?" he asked.

  "Lieutenant O'Keefe of the Royal Flying Corps," replied Larry,saluting. "And this gentleman is Dr. Walter T. Goodwin."

  Marakinoff's face brightened.

  "The American botanist?" he queried. I nodded.

  "Ah," cried Marakinoff eagerly, "but this is fortunate. Long I havedesired to meet you. Your work, for an American, is most excellent;surprising. But you are wrong in your theory of the development of theAngiospermae from Cycadeoidea dacotensis. Da--all wrong--"

  I was interrupting him with considerable heat, for my conclusions fromthe fossil Cycadeoidea I knew to be my greatest triumph, when Larrybroke in upon me rudely.

  "Say," he spluttered, "am I crazy or are you? What in damnation kindof a place and time is this to start an argument like that?

  "Angiospermae, is it?" exclaimed Larry. "HELL!"

  Marakinoff again regarded him with that irritating air of benevolence.

  "You have not the scientific mind, young friend," he said. "Thepoonch, yes! But so has the mule. You must learn that only the fact isimportant--not you, not me, not this"--he pointed to Huldricksson--"orits sorrows. Only the fact, whatever it is, is real, yes. But"--heturned to me--"another time--"

  Huldricksson interrupted him. The big seaman had risen stiffly to hisfeet and stood with Larry's arm supporting him. He stretched out hishands to me.

  "I saw her," he whispered. "I saw mine Freda when the stone swung.She lay there--just at my feet. I picked her up and I saw that mineFreda was dead. But I hoped--and I thought maybe mine Helma wassomewhere here, too, So I ran with mine yndling--here--" His voicebroke. "I thought maybe she was _not_ dead," he went on. "And I sawthat"--he pointed to the Moon Pool--"and I thought I would bathe herface and she might live again. And when I dipped my hands within--thelife left them, and cold, deadly cold, ran up through them into myheart. And mine Freda--she fell--" he covered his eyes, and droppinghis head on O'Keefe's shoulder, stood, racked by sobs that seemed totear at his very soul.