The Sunless City/Chapter 5

As Flin stood up and contemplated the vastness of the chambers which surrounded him on all sides, he was struck with mingled feeling of awe and admiration. The strange solitudes where human being had never before entered were filled with wonders such as the upper earth could not compete with.

Before him rushed the river which might have been taken for the fabled Styx, and the gloomy caverns the abode of the grim ferryman, Charon.

To his right fell a gleaming sheet of water, and below it was a maelstrom, that made one giddy by its terrific gyrations. From the heights above Flin had tumbled into this mysterious spot, and all hope of ever returning to the upper world by the way he had come had vanished. But this thought gave the little man no uneasiness. He knew that the rushing river led somewhere, and wherever it led to he was willing to go.

He felt proud --- as who would not have done so? --- as he remembered that the invention, the child of his own brain, together with dauntless courage, had enabled him to penetrate thus far into those caverns of darkness.

The torches he had brought were about two feet long, and composed of a preparation of resin and pitch, firmly rammed into a metal case. Each torch was timed to burn from nine to twelve hours.

Lighting one of these he fixed it in the rock against which the fish was moored, so that it might serve as a guide on his return.

The effect of the light was inconceivably grand. Myriads of brilliant stars seemed to surround Flin. Above him was what appeared to be the blue vault of heaven, studded with the jewels of night, so that Flin could scarcely believe that he was far down in the bowels of the earth, and that above him were thousands and thousands of feet of solid earth and rock.

When he had gazed long on the marvellous sight, he slung two spare torches over his shoulder, and carrying a lighted one in his hand, he started into the interior of the cavern.

For some distance the way was along a narrow passage, from the roof of which depended the most magnificent stalactites that took almost every conceivable shape. Graceful festoons of flowers, delicate lace work, beautiful banners that seemed as if a passing breath of wind would set them waving-and long, graceful creepers that twined themselves round each in the most wonderful and complicated convolutions.

Presently the way broadened into an avenue, and then a little farther on there burst on the astonished gaze of Flin a sight that caused him to stand still with amazement.

Far as the eye could reach, on all sides, stretched an apparently limitless expanse of forest. Strange trees that had no counterpart on the upper earth, and which towered up until they were lost in the darkness. Their branches were interlocked, and their trunks were covered with parasites. But there was no delicate and harmonious blending of colour as in living nature. It was all white, broken here and there with streaks of brown. And over all was the stillness of death. Not a sound but the subdued roar of the waters, not a motion but the flickering torch.

It was a world of stone. Trees, branches, creepers, undergrowth; all were stone. Petrified into hard white rock, the result of countless thousands of years.

As the adventurous voyager stood there, gazing upon all this mystery and weirdness, he pictured the time when birds sang in the branches of the now stony trees, when balmy breezes rustled their leaves into pleasant music, and thousands of bright glad insects hummed their praises among the waving grasses and the nodding flowers. Flin knew that all these things must have been in far-off ages, until some incomprehensible convulsion of nature turned this part of the world upside down, and buried for ever out of sight this glorious forest. And now, after countless ages, perhaps millions of years, he had been permitted to penetrate into that stony forest that was steeped in the silence of death.

"It is grand, majestic, awful!" Flin exclaimed at last, unable longer to control his feelings.

Then he took snuff reflectively, and waving his torch aloft, its light was reflected in a million scintillating jewels, and a scene of dazzling loveliness met his astonished gaze.

Choosing one of the many paths which ran in all directions he travelled for some distance, until the cold was intense and the atmosphere heavy, so that breathing became laborious and difficult. The traveller thereupon determined to retrace his steps, for he was hungry and a little faint. But he very soon discovered, to his amazement and alarm, that he had missed his way, and the path by which he had come he could not find.

It was a terrible predicament, but Flin was not the man to stand still when action was necessary. So he travelled on rapidly for many miles through that world of stones, trees and herbs. Now he went north, then south. Then he tried east and west, but still he could not discover the friendly beacon which marked the spot where his fish vessel was moored.

It must be confessed that at this time a feeling of despair did weigh upon him, for the pangs of hunger were keen, and nature was exhausted. To have to die thus ingloriously, and when the success of his mission had seemed so probable, was calculated to depress even the strongest minded of men. But this feeling was very temporary. Flin drew out his beloved box, and refreshed himself with two large pinches of snuff. This gave him courage, and he once more started off, selecting a path that he fancied led in the right direction. Along this he travelled for some distance, until the trees grew less dense, and at last he stood upon the edge of a plain that was treeless and shrubless. He had come wrong again, that was certain, but the plain offered new temptations to his inquiring mind, and he was determined to gain all the knowledge he could.

He again had recourse to his snuff-box for refreshment, and he raised his torch aloft and gazed around. Behind was the forest, weird and spectral in its stony death, and before was what seemed to be a vast desert, dotted here and there with hillocks. He made his way to one of these hillocks and was astounded to find that it was composed of bones. Human bones, stone encrusted. And they had evidently belonged to a gigantic race of beings.

Flin collected several of these bones, and with a pocket measure, which he had thoughtfully provided himself with, he ascertained from very careful measurement that some of the bones must have belonged to men at least twelve feet high. This was an interesting discovery, and proved the truth of Biblical history, that there were giants on the earth in old days.

Flin counted no less than fifteen of these mementoes of an era that was completely lost in the mists of antiquity.

Further on he came to a stupendous mass of skeleton that with few exceptions was quite complete. It was that of a Behemoth, whose size would have dwarfed the largest hippopotamus that ever lived in African rivers. But it was all stone. Everything in the wonderful regions was stone.

Flin fixed his torch between two pieces of stone, and drawing forth his box, he took snuff very thoughtfully. Hunger and weariness were for the time forgotten, as he stood there, the only living thing in a dead world. There was something awe- inspiring in the very thought that he was gazing upon these interesting relics of such a far-off period.

"Ah," he muttered philosophically, "I wish my worthy fellows of the honourable Society for the Exploration of Unknown Regions could be aware that I am at the present moment looking upon a specimen of the anthracotherium, that evidently lived in the pre-historic age. It is clear, too, that the human inhabitants of the earth were in keeping with the huge animals that were contemporary with them. For here the skeletons show that there were a race of giants. It is strange now," he pursued reflectively, and examining the head of the monster at his feet very closely, "it is strange now, how these pachydermata and the human skeletons came to be together in this manner. It must have been due to some very sudden convulsions of nature, in which man and beast and forest were overwhelmed in the ruins that came upon them without any warning. What wonderful discoveries might be written upon these things to be sure! Dear me, I wish I could convey some of the specimens to Barnum's Museum, and that I might have the opportunity of reading a paper on the subject before my Society. True, one could only speculate as to how this forest came to be buried and subsequently turned to stone, but these skeletons are pages in the world's history that there is no misreading excepting by those who are wilfully blind. Ah, when I proposed this journey some persons were pleased to say that I was mad, but I would infinitely rather be mad, if madness consists in learning something of the wonders by which we are surrounded, than go through life scoffing and pooh-poohing at everything I don't happen to comprehend."

After he had travelled for over a mile another surprise awaited him in the shape of a river. Yes, another river of icy cold water, flowing silently and mysteriously between two banks of stony grass and shrubs, and carrying a cold current of air with it.

"My conscience, this is marvellous," cried Flin, in an ecstasy of delight. "How I should like to trace this river to its source. I feel as if I could devote my life to exploring the hidden mysteries of the wonderful subterranean forest. But that cannot be. I have a goal to press forward to, and I must reach it or perish. These unexpected marvels, however, serve to encourage me, and give me a stimulus if that were needed."

As the glare of the torch fell upon the stream, he noticed hundreds of queer-looking fish swimming about. They were unlike anything he had ever seen before. And one conspicuous peculiarity was that they had large white spots where the eyes would be in other fish.

"Ah, blind, totally blind," mutter Flin, as he noticed this, and stooping down he was enabled to examine the fish very minutely, as they were not at all alarmed by his presence. "Another sign of the great age of this forest," he continued, as he held his torch between his knees and made memoranda in his note book, "these fish have absolutely no eyes. Many ages of darkness must have passed to produce a family of eyeless fish; they evidently represent a species that have enjoyed the light of the sun at some period. If I mistake not, they belong to the order of megalichthys," he continued, as he rose from his stooping position. "Now, let me see, I think this river will show me the way I should go. By following down the stream I have no doubt I shall reach to place where my vessel is moored. I will put it to the test at anyrate."

He started on his journey once more, keeping close to the river, which ran almost straight. And at last he was cheered by seeing at a distance the welcome gleam of his signal torch. He hurried forward and found that the river he had followed flowed into the main one, lower down than the spot where he had started from. He found his fish vessel floating safely where he had moored her, and as soon as he got on board he began to prepare a substantial meal, for he was tired and hungry. And having fared sumptuously he wrote in his diary a full and detailed account of all the wonders he had seen.

By reference to his chronometer as soon as he returned, he found that he had been absent six hours and twenty minutes, during which time he estimated that he had travelled through the forest of stone a distance of twelve miles.

On examining his other instruments he was surprised to see that the inclination of the magnetic needle of his compass was extraordinarily great, and that for all practical purposes at present the compass was useless, as the needle was fixed. He thought possibly this was due to some magnetic attraction about the rocks in that part; and to test this he carried the instrument some distance into the forest, but without any result. The needle pointed downwards.

"Umph, very strange, very strange indeed," he muttered reflectively, as he returned to the vessel.

He was grieved to find on inspecting his stock that the pigeons and one rabbit were dead. So he cast their bodies out into the dark stream; and being satisfied that everything else was safe and in working order he retired for the night, with the roar of those subterranean waters ringing in his ears.

On the following day, much as he would have liked to have extended the exploration of these buried forests, he felt that it would not be policy to prolong his stay in the place, and so he made preparations for his departure, having first partaken of a very substantial breakfast.

His first care was to make a thorough examination of his craft; when to his dismay he discovered a large dent in the head, the result of the collision with the submerged rock. It did not admit the water, however, and in other respects the vessel was as sound as the day he started. Having satisfied himself on this point, he got all ready for continuing his journey. But here a new difficulty presented itself, and one that he had not calculated upon.

The fish-ship had become embayed, as it were, in a small circular pool of water formed by a projecting mass of rock. Within this bay the water was unruffled, but a few yards out was the fierce maelstrom and the terrific fall of water over which the vessel had tumbled.

How was she to be got out of her present position into the stream again? That was the problem that confronted him and demanded solution. To have pushed her off before the door had been thoroughly secured would have ensured instant destruction. While even if the door was closed and the paddle-wheels were made use of from her great length, she would run the risk, if caught in the eddy while floating on the surface, of being dashed to fragments against the iron rocks. It was truly a fix from which the way out did not appear very clear.

Flin scratched his head thoughtfully, he took snuff rapidly, and he viewed things philosophically.

As the brave little man aroused from his cogitations, he indulged in another pinch of snuff, and shivering slightly muttered, ---

"This intense cold is very extraordinary, and seems to upset the theory altogether about the internal heats. The fact is, I have always been of the same opinion as Sir Humphrey Davy. That grand old philosopher did not believe in central fires, and I think I shall be able to prove that he was right. But I must get out of this mess, otherwise my great discovery will never be known to the world. But how am I to do it? that's the question!"

He sank into a brown study again and remained silent for some minutes. His giant intellect was planning how he could conquer the giants of nature, which seemed to laugh him to scorn. But they did not know the man they had to deal with. If he was small in stature he had a mighty brain, the capacity of which enabled him to find a solution to almost any problem propounded. After contemplating the gyrating waters for some time, he suddenly clapped his hand upon his hip, uttered a joyful exclamation, sniffed up a large pinch of snuff, and putting the box hurriedly in his pocket, he cried aloud, ---

"By Jove! I have it."

What it was he had must be revealed in the next chapter.