Затерянный мир

Chapter 6 I Was The Flail Of The Lord

When I entered his flat I had a general impression of extraordinary comfort and elegance combined with an atmosphere of masculinity. Everywhere there were mingled the luxury of the wealthy man of taste and the careless untidiness of the bachelor. Rich furs, antique things, pictures and prints, and numerous trophies, which brought me back to the fact that Lord John Roxton was one of the great sportsmen and athletes of his day.

Having indicated an arm-chair to me and placed my refreshment near it, he seated himself opposite to me and looked at me long and fixedly with his strange, reckless eyes, eyes of a cold light blue, the colour of a lake.

I examined him too: the strongly-curved nose, the dark red hair, masculine moustaches, the aggressive chin. In figure he was spare, very strongly built.

“Well,” said he, at last, “we’ve done it, my friend. I suppose, when you went into that room there was no such thought in your head?”

“No thought of it.”

“The same. And here we are. Why, I’ve only been back three weeks from Uganda, and taken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all. Pretty busy… How does it hit you?”

“Well, it is all in the main line of my business. I am a journalist on the Gazette.”

“Mr Malone, don’t you mind taking a risk, do you?”

“What is the risk?”

“Well, it’s Ballinger… he’s the risk. Have you heard of him?”

“No.”

“Why, Sir John Ballinger is the best sportsman in the north country. Well, it’s not a secret that when he’s out of training, he drinks hard and gets violent… His room is above this. The doctors say that he is done[38] unless some food is got into him, but as he lies in bed with a revolver, and swears he will put six of the best through anyone that comes near him, it is really a problem.”

“What do you mean to do, then?” I asked.

“Well, my idea was that you and I could rush him. He may be sleeping, and at the worst he can only hit one of us, and the other should have him. And we’ll give the old dear the supper of his life.”

It was a rather desperate business. I don’t think that I am a particularly brave man. I have an Irish imagination which makes the unknown and the untried more terrible than they are. On the other hand, I was brought up with a horror of cowardice. I dare say that I could throw myself over a precipice if my courage were questioned, and yet it would surely be pride and fear, rather than courage. I answered as careless as I could that I was ready to go. Some further remark of Lord Roxton’s about the danger only made me irritable.

“Talking won’t make it any better,” said I. “Come on.”

I rose from my chair and he from his. Then with a little chuckle of laughter, he patted me two or three times on the chest, finally pushing me back into my chair.

“All right, sonny,” said he. I looked up in surprise.

“I saw Jack Ballinger myself this morning. He blew a hole in the skirt of my kimono, but we got a jacket on him, and he’s to be all right in a week. I hope you don’t mind… You see I look on this South American business as a very serious thing, and if I have a companion with me I want a man I can rely on.[39] So you came well out of it. Tell me, can you shoot?”

“About average Territorial standard.”

“Good Lord! As bad as that? But you’ll need to hold your gun straight in South America, for we may see some queer things before we get back.”

He crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I saw a rich collection of guns.

“I see…” said he. “Now, here’s something that would do for you.”

He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle.

“Sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip.[40] 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 today.”

“Well, neither did I. It’s funny we should both sail under the orders from a man we don’t know. His brothers of science don’t seem to like him.”

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 was the truth,” said he, earnestly, “America is the richest, most wonderful bit of earth upon this planet. But people don’t know it yet. Well, when I was up there I heard some stories of the same kind… traditions of Indians with something behind them. The more you knew of that country, the more you would understand that anything was possible… ANYTHING. There are just some narrow water-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is all darkness. There are fifty-thousand miles of water-way running through a forest that is very near the size of Europe. Why shouldn’t something new and wonderful lie in such a country? And why shouldn’t we be the men to find it out? Besides, there’s a risk in every mile of it. Give me the great waste lands and a gun and something to look for that’s worth finding. I’ve tried war and aeroplanes, but this hunting of prehistoric beasts is a brand-new sensation!” Lord Roxton said, laughing with delight.

We had a long talk that evening. I left him seated, oiling the lock of his favorite rifle, while he still laughed at the thought of the adventures which awaited us. It was clear to me that I could not in all England have found a cooler head or a braver spirit.

That night, tired after the wonderful happenings of the day, I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole situation. 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.

And now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. From now onwards 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.

Let me draw one last picture before I close the notebook… It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a thin, cold rain is falling. Three figures are walking to the ship. In front of them a porter pushes a trolley with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. Professor Summerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with drooping head, as one who is already sorry for himself. Lord John Roxton steps briskly, and his face beaming. As for myself, I am glad to have these days of preparation behind me. Suddenly there is a shout behind us. It is Professor Challenger, who had promised to see us off. He runs after us.

“No thank you,” says he; “I don’t want to go aboard. I have only a few words to say to you. 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. My directions for your instruction and guidance are in this sealed envelope. You will open it when you reach a town which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hour which is marked upon the outside. Have I made myself clear? Mr. Malone, I demand that you 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 change my feelings for the profession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord John. You may congratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you. And good-bye to you also, Professor Summerlee. If you are still capable of self-improvement, you will surely return to London a wiser man.”

So he turned upon his heel, and a minute later I could see his short figure as he made his way back to his train. Well, we are well down Channel now. God bless all we leave behind us, and send us safely back.