The Sunless City/Chapter 36

The fugitives were enabled to continue their flight unmolested. The Princess was no longer the gay, sprightly, volatile girl of a few weeks previous. The terrible events that had so quickly crowded upon her had had a very marked effect, and had enfeebled her health to an alarming extent. But Flin was still sanguine that her devotion for him, aided by her perseverance, would enable her to triumph over all difficulties and accompany him to the upper world, if it were possible to make his way there. This was now the one goal to which he pressed. Devoted as he was to science, he felt that to be able to present the Princess to the American people was such a grand idea that it was worth making any sacrifices to accomplish. Moreover, she would be the best answer to any questions that might be put, and would effectually silence all doubts. After considerable difficulty the fugitives succeeded in reaching the mouth of the cavern.

Flin found his stores and apparatus exactly as he had left them. The Princess was much exhausted, and so he decided to rest for a few days, as he deemed himself perfectly safe from pursuers.

At the end of a week the Princess had so far recovered that the traveller determined to lose no more time in commencing his journey upward.

Princess Yobmot uttered no complaint, but it was evident she looked upon the expedition with grave misgivings. The only motive she had for startling upon such a dangerous journey was her love for Flin, as she was not even supported, as was he, by any enthusiasm for scientific exploration. But she confessed herself willing to live or die with him. And so when everything was ready, and when the apparatus for breathing had been adjusted, and the electric lamps set in motion, he turned his back towards Esnesnon and set his face upward.

He and his companion were fastened together by a rope and he took the lead.

For a long time the way was comparatively easy, and good progress was made. The gallery always trended upward, and the walls were for the most part composed of basaltic and felspathic rock. At times, however, the roof was so low that considerable difficulty was experienced in passing. But the undaunted travellers crept on their hands and knees and held their way, and when at last at the end of ten days Flin made a calculation by aid of his instruments, he estimated that they had attained a height of about eight miles above the level of Esnesnon.

Everything was perfectly satisfactory, and the dresses fully answered the purpose for which they had been designed. But now the gallery grew rougher, and the journey became more difficult. At times it was necessary to climb up steep jutting rocks, and creep through holes that scarcely admitted the body. Moreover, the way grew labyrinthian, for the galleries trended away in every conceivable direction, and the intrepid Flin was often at his wits' end as to which one to follow. But, guided by a rare instinct, and that intuitive faculty which was peculiarly his own, which enabled him to define the right way from the wrong in most things, he did not falter, but pressed boldly forward; though there were occasions when, after terrible exertion and almost Herculean efforts, he was mortified to find himself at the end of a gallery, and was compelled to retrace his steps and strike a fresh path.

He was greatly alarmed now to observe that the strength of the Princess was daily diminishing. He saw with pain that she grew gradually weaker and thinner; and, feeling that he was responsible for her safety, he suggested the advisability of returning to Esnesnon, which he would have done at all risks. But she resolutely opposed this, expressing her perfect willingness to proceed at all hazards, and, if needs be, die by his side. He was struck by this devotion. Little did he dream that his connection with her, begun so lightly, would end so seriously. It was a grave responsibility. He felt that, and his fears strengthened every hour that his brave companion would find a grave in the heart of the earth's crust, through which they were travelling. She defined something of the thoughts which agitated him, and smiling sweetly tried to reassure him, saying that he was not to trouble himself on her account, for she would yet live to astonish the upper world people. He knew, however, that this was only dictated by her great love for him, and that her own feelings told her that this was a fallacious hope. But regrets were useless, longings were unavailing; the inevitable must be met boldly. The way now became more and more intricate, tortuous and difficult, and there were days when it was impossible to accomplish more than a mile or so of distance.

The interminable galleries stretched on and on. The unbroken silence, the awful darkness were appalling. No wonder that at last even Flin, bold as he was, should have had some feeling of despair.

"How much longer would it be necessary to travel these fearful solitudes, where neither prehuman nor human foot had ever been before?"

This was a question he was repeatedly asking himself, but the answer came not.

It was certain, however, that the way could not be interminable. The gallery must have an ending. This was at least a consoling thought. After a few days' more travelling the gallery gradually opened out, and the travellers stood on the shores of a subterranean lake. The awful desolation, the fearful melancholy, and the strange silence of this place were sufficient to appal the stoutest hearts. Flin did not feel justified in devoting any time to exploring it. Every moment was now of value, for the provisions were getting short, and both his own and him companion's strength were failing. In fact, the Princess now became so ill that it was evident she could not continue the journey much farther. Flin was distracted. He felt that in a measure he was responsible for this, though all that he had done had been done with the best possible motives. Nevertheless, had he not attempted to overthrow the power of woman in Esnesnon, things might have been different. He reproached himself a little, and he told the Princess this, but she smiled sweetly and murmured,

"Do not blame yourself. It was all done for the best, and had you not failed Esnesnon would have known an era of splendid prosperity. You have at least taught me my true sphere. To submit as a woman should submit is a woman's duty. But when she attempts to rule, and to assume a position for which she was never intended, she ceases to be a woman and becomes objectionable. This is something at least to have learnt, and I have learned it thoroughly, and would that I could teach it to my countrywomen. But that is hopeless, for my end approaches."

"Say not so," Flin answered in alarm, for there was something prophetic in the words of the Princess. "You are weak and exhausted, but I am not without hope that you may yet live to reach the end of the journey, and be honoured and respected by the great American people."

"The end of the journey has come for me," she whispered, as she sank down at his feet, "I am dying."

With a cry of alarm he knelt beside her and supported her head, and it became too evident to him that her words were fearfully true, that life was ebbing away. But he was utterly powerless to give any aid. He was unprepared for such a contingency. And all he could do was to support the head of the dying woman and whisper comfort.

She held his hand as if fearful to part from him. Belonging to a totally different race, and prehuman though she might call herself, she had yet a true woman's nature, and felt the magic of love. But she was no more exempt from death than were human beings, and the fell destroyer had stricken her. Flin Flon confesses that as he bent over her prostrate form it was the most painful moment of his life, and he would have sacrificed much could he have saved her. But that was impossible. The life tide ebbed. She grew feebler. And still clasping his hand, she at length lay dead in that strange and lonely region. It was a huge grave, but a safe one. No one was likely ever again to penetrate to those silent depths to disturb the dead remains. There they would lie in an eternal sleep until the mountains should dissolve and the secrets of sea and earth be disclosed. Flin wept. And at the moment almost wished that he too could lie beside her and sleep the dreamless sleep. He felt that he had lost a true and faithful companion, who for his sake had sacrificed much, even her life. But he must pursue his solitary journey now without her. And so, composing the dead limbs, and casting one fond and lingering look at the calm face, he went on his way.

After travelling for some distance along the shores of the lake, he was fortunate enough to hit the entrance to the gallery again. With the exception that the way was very much more difficult, the features were the same as the first half of the journey. The same gloomy, silent galleries. The same dark, hard rocks, that bore on their face evidence of burnings and scaldings, and spoke of the time when these caverns had been filled with liquid fire, that had no doubt mounted upward and upward, finally discharging itself in the upper world.

These signs gave Flin courage, because he felt convinced that the burning lava must have left an outlet, and that if his strength held out he would be enabled to gain that outlet and finally reach his beloved home.

But hope sank very low at times as he travelled upward and upward and there appeared no signs of the end. Hunger, too, was beginning to make itself felt, for his provisions were nearly finished and the utmost care was necessary. Moreover, the greatest physical labour had to be endured, for at times he had literally to climb up walls of rock, and where a false step or the failure of nerve would have precipitated him to instant destruction, but "perseverance" was his motto, and so he struggled on. The gloom and the silence were beginning to tell upon him. He grew melancholy, he felt as if he should go out of his mind if the journey did not end, and there were one or two occasions when the very apathy of despair was reached and he felt that he could not continue another step. But these fits of depression were not lasting. He aroused himself from them with desperate energy and struggled forward, and when sight, and strength, and hope were all but gone he was at length rewarded by seeing glimmering light, the blessed light of day, and with a cry of joy he sank down and remained unconscious for some time.

But he soon recovered, and following the light, he emerged from narrow opening. Then he saw far, far above the blue sky. Yes, the sky that he had been shut out from so long was above him, and he almost went frantic with a great sense of inexpressible joy.

He was at the bottom of a huge crater, that was most perfect in its formation. The sides were nearly perpendicular, and covered with luxuriant herbage. The summit was about two thousand feet above, and to gain it appeared to be about the most difficult part of the journey. But when Flin had refreshed himself and rested for some hours he set to work to try and find a way out of the hollow, where in a great depression was a lake. After walking about for some hours he came upon a narrow track that had been beaten by sheep and goats. Up this he climbed, but it was so steep that it was a work of danger and difficulty. At length he reached the summit of the mountain, and then he found that it was one of a tremendous range. No human being was in sight. The region was solitude unbroken, save by the eagles which wheeled their dizzy flight around the brows of the mountains.

Flin's joy knew no bounds as he thus found himself once more on the exterior of the earth. And yet it almost seemed as if the most difficult part of his journey was yet to come; for unless he could meet someone to guide him, he might wander about these eternal mountains until he dies of starvation.

As the sun was setting he determined to rest for the night, and he took up his quarters in the hollow of a large rock. On the following day he commenced the descent. After many hours of hard travelling he came into a valley, and going through this for some miles his ears were at length gladdened by the sound of voices speaking his own beloved language, and rounding a point he came in sight of a party of gold diggers. As he approached the men they all stopped working and stared at him in stupid astonishment.

"Will you kindly inform me what locality I am in?" Flin asked politely, whereat all the men burst into a loud laugh, which caused him great annoyance, for he did not like to be a laughingstock.

"Well, I guess, old man, you've been in some strange region by the look of you," bawled one fellow.

"You are right, friend," answered Flin; "I have been residing for some time in the interior of the earth with a strange race of people, about whom I am going to read a paper before the New York Society for the Exploration of Unknown Regions."

This was the signal for a roar of laughter, and several of the men tapped their foreheads significantly with their fingers, thereby intimating that they thought Flin was cracked.

"Look here, old hoss," exclaimed a big burly fellow, not unkindly, "I guess you had better get away home to your friends; it ain't fit that you should be wandering about without somebody to look after you."

This was a cruel cut to poor Flin. But he felt that he could expect nothing better from these rough, uncultivated fellows; though it was rather hard to be greeted in such a manner on first returning to the upper world, and having suffered so much in the cause of science. He sighed wearily, and remarked,

"Possibly what you say, my man, is correct, but you have not answered my question. What place is this?"

"Wal, I guess you ain't twenty miles off 'Frisco. "

"San Francisco, eh?" muttered Flin. "That is fortunate; I am obliged to you for the information. Which was do I go?"

"Straight ahead down the valley."

"Thank you; good day."

As Flin moved off he heard the men laughing heartily, and one of them exclaimed,

"He's clean gone off his mind anyhow, I guess."

Of course he took no notice of this cruel remark, but hurried on his way, and towards nightfall found himself in the busy city of San Francisco, where his uncouth appearance and strange dress caused him to be seized by the police and detained, pending an inquiry as to the state of mind. This was a cruel and bitter experience, but he consoled himself with the thought that he was suffering in the great cause of science. There was a clergyman attached to the place, and to this gentleman he told his strange story.

"But, my dear fellow," said the clergyman, "Flintabbatey Flonatin was drowned long ago in Lake Avernus through his own mad folly."

Flin persisted that he had never been drowned, but as this was considered to be a certain sign of madness, he was carefully guarded though kindly treated. Finding that no one would believe his statements he became silent, and for a whole year suffered martyrdom, until one day a visitor displayed interest in him, and Flin persuaded this person to telegraph to Barnum, who lost no time in despatching an agent to San Francisco to conduct the intrepid traveller back to New York, to Flin's intense delight. He felt now that his reward had come at last. In due course he communicated with his Society, but no one recognised him.

Of course the news of his return soon spread and for a whole fortnight he gave receptions to the general public at Barnum's Museum, whither thousands upon thousands of persons flocked to see him. But when he began to relate his adventures people shook their heads and whispered one to another that he had become very mad indeed.

Even the members of the Society for the Exploration of Unknown Regions laughed at him, and said that it was wrong of him to attempt to impose upon people's credulity in such a manner, and pose as the distinguished and celebrated scientist to whom a magnificent monument had been erected by public subscription.

"No, no," they said, "you may be harmless, but you are a wicked impostor."

It was a poor return, indeed, for all he had endured and the manifold dangers he had passed through. Such ingratitude was more than he could bear. It broke his heart, but Barnum paid him handsomely to remain at the museum, where he was a tremendous draw for a time. The novelty, of course, wore off at last, and he retired into seclusion, spending the rest of his days in making notes for the narrative of his wonderful journey and in cultivating cabbages and musing upon the base ingratitude of humanity. He consoled himself, however, with one thought, that the time might yet come when his truthfulness would be proved, and that his memory would ever be respected. And so when the poor old man had reached a century of life he passed quietly away. The world lost a genius it could ill spare. The public now know how true his story was; his wish has been realised, for Barnum himself handed me the notes from which this narrative has been written. And the wonderful nation of the screaming eagle will never allow his memory to die.