The Great White Space

Three

Cornelius Van Damm was, as I have indicated, tall and thin, but it was not only his fluting, effeminate voice that had such an extraordinary effect upon those meeting him for the first time. When we had both exchanged nods, perfunctorily acknowledging Scarsdale’s sketchy introduction, and the Professor had brought us all back towards the fireside, I had more leisure to study him. Both he and Scarsdale engaged in a form of bickering which I later came to realise was a pose, a role both played to the full; the Professor emphasised his virile, bear-like qualities while the doctor developed a waspish querulousness which suited his squeaky voice.

Underneath it all lay a profound theatricality, a streak common to both men; both were distinguished in their own spheres; in addition to being a first-class electrical engineer, Van Damm was learned in many fields, being also a geologist and metallurgist as well as a fine revolver and rifle shot. He was to find his talents fully exercised on the Great Northern Expedition.

Fortunately, neither of the two remaining members, whom I had yet to meet, had such temperaments as those of Van Damm and the Professor: they preferred to leave the limelight to the two prima donnas, and were both immensely practical and phlegmatic by nature, which was no doubt why Scarsdale had selected them in the first instance. As for myself, I had no great axe to grind, as I have already indicated, and preferred merely to observe and practise my own specialised subject of photography.

Now, as the two men snapped at one another in the firelight, the older man biting off his words like a pike swallowing a tasty morsel, the Professor blandly riding rough-shod over the other’s objections, I was amusedly summing up the doctor. What I saw was a man of exceedingly gaunt aspect; with a great craggy face, from which a pair of humorous brown eyes shone from within deep sockets. His thin sandy hair grew evenly over his scalp so that his skull resembled nothing so much as a pineapple; a delicate wisp of moustache bisected his face and a gold pince-nez, depending from a delicate silver chain, dangled from his third waistcoat button. He wore a green corduroy jacket, the waistcoat was of some dark brown material, and his trousers were of grey flannel. Over the whole was a sort of long brown dustcoat, such as that worn by stockmen or cattle-drovers in the Old West, and the dark brown riding boots, stained with mud, which completed his outfit, marked him as one of the oddest and most individual of men.

However, he presently grew calmer and seeming to recollect my presence, turned to me and grasped me by the hand; still with a red flush on his cheeks and a slight stammer in his voice, when he turned to interject an occasional remark at the Professor, he proved himself an entertaining speaker. Later I was to discover that his eccentric exterior concealed one of the kindliest of men.

However, all he said initially was, ‘You will find this a difficult sort of contract, Plowright. If we had a different leader, well then, that would simplify matters and one could guarantee success. But with such a boorish and obtuse person as Scarsdale, I will be extremely surprised if we achieve what we set out to do.’

I had expected the Professor to reply with some monstrous outburst but to my intense surprise he merely threw back his bearded head and bellowed with laughter like a bull.

‘You never disappoint me, Van Damm,’ he chuckled at length. He glanced over at me. ‘Mark my words, my dear fellow, we shall have an admirable expedition.’

Then he rang for Collins to clear the table and we all went back into the hall.

‘While the doctor is demolishing a few more pear trees I daresay you’d like to come and meet the remainder of your colleagues,’ Scarsdale said smoothly. ‘You’ll find them much more amiable.’

His latter remark was within Van Damm’s hearing; the tall man stood with his feet planted apart at one side of the hall and I was even more surprised when I saw him smile appreciatively at the Professor’s disparaging comment. I began to understand the two men a little better as I followed the Professor out onto the front drive; he led the way around the house, our feet crunching in the gravel, until we came to a cobbled courtyard and a sort of stable, together with a group of outbuildings. From the latter came the low hum of machinery.

In the centre of the courtyard was standing one of the strange grey machines I had already seen being demonstrated by Van Damm in the orchard below the house. The Professor looked at me keenly but there was no faltering in his even stride.

‘There’ll be time for that later,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to do this afternoon and you’ll not be wanting to get back to town too late.’

I protested that I had all the time in the world, my previous reservations quite forgotten, so exciting and unusual did I find this new world, with its sense of mysterious purpose and urgency. Most of this, like an electric current, was flowing from the figure of the Professor himself, of course, and I was later to find that he affected almost everyone in the same way; even Van Damm was not immune, though he had learned to disguise his true feelings with an air of bickering criticism.

At a long bench in the interior of the workshop two men were sitting. The older looked round as we entered and a broad smiled spread across his face. He jumped up impulsively and said to Scarsdale, ‘You were right, Professor. The wavelength made all the difference. I’ve ironed out the difficulties.’

The Professor smiled and turned to me, making the formal introductions.

‘This is Norman Holden. Apart from being an excellent historian, he’s our radio expert. Van Damm will be responsible for maintaining the tractors.’

Holden was a man of about fifty-five, of medium height and stockily built; he had even white teeth, a rather fleshy mouth and broad-set eyes of a deep brown. He had character and good humour in his face and I liked him immediately.

The other man at the end of the bench got up and came towards us. Geoffrey Prescott was about forty-five; an expert linguist and specialist in Egyptology, he also had his strictly practical side. He would attend to map-making and cooking on the expedition and could apply his talents in a number of other directions. Fortunately, Scarsdale himself was also a doctor of medicine and could deal with any serious ills which might befall our little band.

Prescott, I later understood from Scarsdale had helped decipher something of the hieroglyphs which had so intrigued the Professor and which had been the means of our meeting. Just now he excused himself from joining in our conversation; his current work demanded all his attention if the expedition was to get away on time. He looked at Scarsdale with an enthusiastic smile as he spoke and with a wave of his hand went back to the end of the bench. Scarsdale said nothing but got out a blackened old pipe from his pocket and bit at its yellow stem.

We had been walking round the workshop and found ourselves near the door to the yard; there was another vast shed, like an aeroplane hangar adjoining and Scarsdale now put his bull-like shoulder to a sliding door and slid it shudderingly back. He moved about ahead of me, switching on lights.

‘Excellent people, Prescott and Holden,’ he said succinctly. ‘One couldn’t wish for better companions. You’ll fit in well, I think.’

I stood blinking in the sudden glare of light from the banks of powerful reflectors set in the ceiling girders. Before me were two of the great grey tractor vehicles; these, unlike the one I had seen in the yard and the other in the orchard earlier, were shining with new paint and carried registration numbers. Both bore the stencilled black lettering, GREAT NORTHERN EXPEDITION. Number 1, I saw was labelled Command Vehicle and had Scarsdale’s name beneath. Number 2, bore Dr Van Damm’s name as commander. Numbers three and four would be accompanying us as reserve vehicles, explained Scarsdale, ushering me up the light metal steps into his own craft.

Once inside the sliding doors, the Professor switched on the interior lighting and showed me his domain with somewhat justifiable pride.

‘We have developed these vehicles between the four of us, to overcome certain difficulties I have already encountered,’ said the Professor. ‘A new principle of friction-drive is incorporated in the tractor units. Van Damm, whatever his faults in other directions, was invaluable here. He also developed a new type of long-life heavy duty battery, which we are able to re-charge en route.’

As he spoke, he showed me round the interior of the craft which seemed to me extremely ingenious and spacious. The control room, which had observation windows masked by sliding metal shutters, also incorporated a sort of chart-table and a rack for all the Professor’s books and instruments.

Beyond was a bedroom which could sleep three crew-members in comfort; beyond that again a small galley fully equipped for cooking. There was even a minute toilet and shower stall and wash-basin.

‘The other tractors are identical,’ said the Professor, ‘so that if something happens to one we can merely change over without difficulties of any sort.’

He paused before he went on.

‘You have no objection to learning to handle the machine, I suppose?’

‘I should be delighted,’ I said. ‘I intend to make myself fully useful in addition to my photographic duties.’

‘I ask for a particular reason,’ Scarsdale said. ‘The machines will go with us by sea in the first instance, of course. To get them to our destination means that we must have a driver for each. That commits four out of five, with one man acting as cook and reserve driver. So you can see we shall need the help of everyone.’

‘You won’t be engaging the help of any porters?’ I said.

The Professor shook his head.

‘You will see the reason why in due course,’ he replied. ‘We must have another two months in England before embarking. As you have seen, Van Damm is still far from perfect at piloting these things and I’m sure you’ll want to be thoroughly conversant before taking over.’

I agreed. Then another thought struck me.

‘As I’m to be the official photographer, ought I not to record some of these preparations on film?’ I said. ‘I have my equipment outside and would be delighted to start this afternoon.’

The Professor looked pleased but then his face clouded over. He put his hand on my shoulder.

‘I’m sure you won’t take this amiss, my dear fellow, but I must rely on your discretion.’

‘I’m not quite sure I follow you,’ I replied.

The Professor operated the mechanism which let down the shutters from in front of the forward windows. There was the hum of electric motors in this warm little world which seemed remote from the wet Surrey countryside about us.

‘This is a highly secret project,’ Scarsdale continued. ‘I’m at great pains that it should remain so. If the press should get wind of it, there might be difficulties involved in the country for which we are heading. So your prints must be shown to no-one but myself and your colleagues here.’

So worried did he look that I readily gave him my assurance, adding that if he wished I would leave the undeveloped film with him and print the material with my own equipment the next time I came down.

He seemed pleased at this but as I left the tractor to seek my camera, he halted me at the doorway.

‘To be quite fair to you, Plowright, I will tell you a little more about this business before you go. My conscience will then be clear.’

I assured him that I had already made up my mind to accompany him as official photographer but if he liked to let me know more about his plans and the circumstances surrounding the expedition, then I would, of course, fully respect any confidences he cared to place in me.

The next hour was an extremely busy one; I took something like seventy photographs in that time, with particular regard to the detail of the specialised equipment Scarsdale and Van Damm had perfected. I knew this would be appreciated by the Professor. He, together with the scowling Van Damm, was persuaded to pose on the steps of one of the tractors. Then I went out again into the drizzling rain to photograph Van Damm’s extraordinary manoeuvres in the orchard, watched by an alarmed Collins, who had strict orders from Scarsdale to report even so much as a bruised pear from the fruit trees.

I went on from there back to the workshop where I recorded the others at work, until I had a fairly comprehensive picture record of the Great Northern Expedition’s activities to date. By this time it was five o’clock and I was already so far committed to the as yet mysterious preparations of my companions that I was delighted when the Professor suggested that I should stay the night and at once fell in with his suggestion.

One of Collins’ stranger duties was the formal serving of tea, complete with silver teapot and all the accoutrements of toast, crumpets and scones, among the rough surroundings of the workshop, when the scientists were too busy to come indoors to the house. He had a strange contraption like a hospital trolley, with a collapsible hood to keep the rain from his heated delicacies and he trundled this solemnly out to the courtyard at five o’clock.

So it was that I found myself sipping almost boiling tea from fine china at the chart-table of the Professor’s tractor while he sombrely explained to me something of the difficulties we would be facing. He repeated that he had been somewhat alerted to the dangers facing the world by his researches into certain forbidden books many years before, in the early twenties. It was not until very much later that he began to connect them with the inscriptions found on stone tablets in various parts of the world; and then, eventually, with last year’s strange spring; the shifting lights in the sky, which were observed almost on a global scale and which were connected, Scarsdale maintained, with something he called the Coming.

It was such a spring and such a sequence of events, he said, which were hinted at in blasphemous old books and forbidden treatises in Arabic and Hebrew which he had studied for years on end and which he eventually made to yield up their secrets. It was the Latin volume. The Ethics of Ygor, he added, which had produced the most worthwhile results; and the key-sig’ns and notably the Magnetic Ring which was said to spin beyond the farthest suns of the universe, had eventually been the cause of his stumbling on to some fantastic and unbelievable facts which the Professor hesitated even to mention to his most learned colleagues.

They concerned, Scarsdale believed, a portion of the universe which he called ‘the great white space’; it was an area which the Old Ones particularly regarded with awe and which they had always formally referred to, in their primeval writings as The Great White Space. This was a sacred belt of the cosmos through which beings could come and go, as through an astral door, and which was the means of conquering dizzying billions of miles of distance which would have taken even the Old Ones thousands of years to traverse.

Scarsdale believed he had discovered a key to the identity of the Old Ones, through the hieroglyphs discovered on earth and after long and profound study of the writings, coupled with the key books of The Ethics of Ygor, he had come to the conclusion that the riddle of their existence might be probed here on earth. It was then that he had set out on the first and most difficult of his exploratory journeys, which he had already mentioned.

If Scarsdale feared that I should disbelieve what to a layman might appear to be a somewhat wild narrative, my demeanour must have rapidly given him confidence, for he was able to speak more clearly and confidently as the minutes ticked past. For my part I had no cause to doubt his sincerity or sanity and the distinction of his colleagues on the expedition, plus the sober and impressive scientific preparations going ahead, were evidence in themselves that something serious and solidly based was afoot.

He searched for reassurance in my eyes and my continued silence encouraging him, he continued. We must have made a strange sight, he large and bearded, myself with one fragile china cup in my hand; the pair of us in earnest conclave within the conning tower of a grey metal tractor in a large shed set in the midst of the drizzling Surrey uplands. Yet neither of us thought it incongruous so sincerely did Scarsdale believe the truth of what he was relating; and no less sincerely did I receive his confidences.

‘Believe me, Plowright, if I could at this stage reveal the exact location of our destination I would do so,’ he said, fixing me earnestly with those arresting eyes. ‘Too much is at stake.

Let me just say, for the sake of coherence that it was Peru. It was not Peru, but no matter. I had spent years working on my calculations. There was no doubt in my mind that they were correct. My problem was that the need for secrecy meant my party must be small; there were but three of us. To my great sorrow and misfortune, there was treachery on the part of a local agent I trusted; my two companions fell sick. Foolishly, I decided to go on with the large party of porters. I had to engage bearers as the vast amount of equipment made it a necessity. Had I had the present vehicles, well then, I should have succeeded triumphantly. As it was, my efforts were foredoomed to failure.’

Scarsdale was not a man given to emotion, as I later came to know, but the recollection evidently moved him for his voice trembled and he drummed impatiently with strong, spatulate fingers on the chart-table before him. He recollected himself and the impassive exterior resumed itself again.

‘The wonder of it is that I got so far,’ he said. ‘I gained the mountains and the outer caves before the porters deserted. I won’t go into details because I want every man of you to start this venture with a fresh, clear mind. But there were the inscriptions, there were the tunnels you have seen in the library of the house; I took a pack and some provisions and marking my way, I went on. The nights were the worst. I spent many days in the tunnels and I slept badly. Then I came to a vast underground lake; and there, hunger, plus the sheer physical impossibility of continuing without specialist equipment, overcame me. I almost failed to make it, I was so weak by the time I gained the outer air. Fortunately, some of the guides had remained on the mountain and brought me down. The full affair never got into the papers. And that’s about it.’

He pointed out through the thick quartz windows to the far side of the hangar.

‘Collapsible rubber boats of specially toughened material. If necessary, four of them, suitably girdered could act as pontoons for ferrying tractors. I don’t think we’ll fail this time. We dare not fail.’

He clenched his fist on the table in front of him as he spoke and it seemed to me as though shutters momentarily closed over his eyes, but not before I had seen chaotic fires burning within. I then realised that Clark Ashton Scarsdale was a man of immense strength whose mental fortitude was under siege by equally strong pressures. I cleared my throat and the trivial sound seemed to recall the Professor to his surroundings. It appeared to me then as though he had been far away physically, and that once again he stood upon the shore of a vast tideless underground sea.

‘The clay oval upon the model depicts the underground lake?’ I said.

The Professor nodded. ‘Exactly. I could, in fact, have gone beyond this in the model but I did not feel it politic to do so.’

Seeing the surprise upon my face he went on.

‘I have formulated theories from my earlier research but as I have myself not seen with my own eyes what lies beyond the lake it seemed pointless to give it physical features in a model of that sort.’

‘What do you expect to find beyond the lake?’ I asked bluntly.

Scarsdale smiled. He became at once far less serious.

‘I have, as I indicated, definite theories. What these are it would be both premature and unwise to reveal at this stage. It might take the zest out of the exploration for the other members of the expedition. And we must, must we not, have soijie speculative topics to discuss during the long nights in camp?’

I agreed. Just one point of curiosity remained for the moment.

‘The tractors, Professor. Supposing we venture beyond visual touch?’

Scarsdale became the practical man again.

‘Powerful searchlights for underground work, plus lanterns for pre-arranged signals. Short-wave radio sets for verbal contact, effective up to a range of five miles. You’ll be given instructions on this equipment also before we start. But here’s Collins. He’ll be wanting the tea-things. Are you satisfied with the Great Northern Expedition?’

‘Perfectly,’ I said.

Thus casually did I commit myself to the most appalling experience of my life.