The Temple of Fire E-Book

Fenton Ash

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

„The Temple of Fire, or The Mysterious Island” (1905), the author’s seventh novel out of an eventual 14. It is an absorbing lost-world adventure, characterized by vividly imaginative. Francis Henry Atkins – British speculative fiction writer, working mainly under two pseudonyms (Frank Aubrey and Fenton Ash) in sequence, was extremely successful and influential. He played an important role in the History of Science-Fiction.

Leseprobe

Contents

PREFACE

I. THE MAN WITH WEBBED FEET

II. CAPTAIN WARREN'S MISGIVINGS

III. THE GREAT LIZARD OF THE POOL

IV. A NARROW ESCAPE

V. THE DOCTOR'S PERIL

VI. A MYSTERIOUS CRAFT

VII. ATTACKED IN THE NIGHT

VIII. THE FUGITIVE'S STRANGE STORY

IX. THE AMBUSCADE

X. WHY THE BOATS TURNED BACK

XI. "WOLVES OF THE WEED"

XII. THE STRANGE CHIEFTAIN

XIII. A DARING ADVENTURE

XIV. THE TEMPLE OF FIRE

XV. THE MONSTER IN THE GOLDEN CAGE

XVI. IN THE UNDERGROUND RIVER

XVII. A FUTILE CHASE

XVIII. THE LAKE WITHIN THE MOUNTAIN

XIX. THE RED GALLEYS

XX. PLANTS THAT WALKED

XXI. THE SECRET TREASURE-CAVE

XXII. FIGHTING THE DWARFS

XXIII. TRAITORS IN THE CAMP

XXIV. DR. STRONGFOLD'S STATEMENT

XXV. PRINCE LOROYAH

XXVI. THE STORY OF KING RULONDA

XXVII. A GREAT NAVAL VICTORY

XXVIII. THE RED GALLEYS AGAIN

XXIX. THE PURSUIT

XXX. TRAPPED IN THE TUNNEL

XXXI. A TIGHT CORNER

XXXII. THE FATE OF THE TRAITORS

XXXIII. CAUGHT IN THE FLOOD

XXXIV. THE CAPTURE OF CASHIA

XXXV. SUSPENSE

XXXVI. THE LAST TRAGEDY IN THE TEMPLE

XXXVII. CONCLUSION

NOTES

PREFACE

THE up-to-date, quasi-scientific romance or adventure story is so well known in these days as a distinct type of juvenile fiction, that no remarks would be called for by way of introduction to the present effort, were it not that it happens to be the first of my tales of the kind to be issued in book form.

My previous “fanciful flights” in this field have been printed only in the boys’ magazines for which they were written; but if one may judge by the favour with which they have been received by the youthful readers of those publications, then I should have the best of reasons for hoping that this new venture may prove popular and successful.

We all know, however, that boys do not choose their own books to the same extent that they choose their weekly magazines. Their books are, for the most part, probably, bought for them as gifts by their friends and relatives, who are sometimes a little shy of a “new writer.” A few words to them, therefore, may not be out of place.

I would like to say, for their satisfaction, that they will not find in my imaginative creations anything which is unsuitable for healthy, manly boys to read; they are neither “ornamented” with vulgar slang, nor loaded up with a preposterous amount of “battle, murder, and sudden death.” Indeed, so far is this from being the case, that I would like to claim that they have a distinct educational value, were it not that I am aware that here one must tread lightly, lest young readers should scent suspiciously something of that bête noireof the juvenile mind–the “instructive” story-book.

As a matter of fact, however, there is nothing in the following pages which is not scientifically possible, or which goes beyond what may be fairly termed, the Romance of Science and Natural History.

–The Author

I. THE MAN WITH WEBBED FEET

“YONDER lies the so-called island, Mr. Ray. I’ve brought my ship to the place, and so have fulfilled my part. What’s going to be the good of it all is another matter. But there! you’ve known my opinion of this crack-brained voyage all along!”

“You say ‘so-called’ island, Captain Warren. Isn’t it an island, then, after all?”

“Pooh! You can’t call a place an island unless you knowthere’s land there–real, hard, solid land. Now, so far as is known there’s no real land here at all–nothing but a great tract of sea covered with tangled vegetation; just a vast, steaming swamp, in fact. Ye may sail round and round it, and ye’ll find it everywhere the same; and you may struggle into it–as far as you can, and that’s not far–and ye’ll find it all just the same–no sign or trace of dry land can you actually touch, so to speak. In the distance, ’tis true, you can see something which may be rising ground–but you can’t get near enough to make quite sure.”

“How far have people penetrated into this swamp, then?”

“Oh, not very far–you can’t get far. This marine growth is too dense to allow any boat to navigate it. No ship dare sail into it, while as for a steamer, well, of course, her propeller’d get tangled up in no time. Between you and me, Mr. Ray, I should have thought that a matter-of-fact, hard-headed scientist, as Dr. Strongfold is supposed to be, would have had more common sense than to bring us all sweltering here into the tropics on a wild- goose chase o’ this sort!”

“H’m! Well, the doctor’s keen on exploring unknown regions, as you know, and so–But there!

what does it matter? We’ve only come on a cruise, after all; and we had to do something to pass the time until my father comes back!”

This talk took place on board the steam yacht Kestrel, then on a cruise in the Southern Seas, and the two speakers were Marcus Warren, the captain of the vessel, and young Raymond Lonsdale, son of the owner.

A tanned, grizzled, tough old veteran of the sea was Captain Warren, but in his steady grey eyes there was a glint of good- nature to be seen mingling with the shrewd, albeit somewhat stern, glance habitual to them.

His companion, Raymond–or Ray, as he was usually called–was a good-looking English lad, well grown, with broad shoulders and sturdy, muscular limbs which told of athletic training, a sun-browned face, and general gait which suggested experience of the sea, and of an outdoor life generally. And so it had been with him; he had already seen a good deal of knocking about, for he had lived much of his life on board the Kestrel. On her he had already met with more than one lively adventure, too, for his father had been mixed up in some of the civil wars which break out now and again among the restless states of South America, and had taken part in some pretty stiff fighting.

Tiring of this, and finding in it neither glory nor profit, Mr. Lonsdale had gone for a voyage in the Pacific, and finally to Australia, where at Sydney he got news of some newly-discovered gold region, and started off upon an expedition into the interior to investigate.

Ray had been left with Captain Warren and another friend of his father, Dr. Strongfold; with leave given to pass away the time in a further cruise in the Southern Seas if they wished it.

Then it was that the worthy doctor resolved to try to see something of a mysterious island of which he had been told, where, it was said, had been seen some very strange people. They were declared to be a race who had lived so long among the tangled vegetation of dense swamps, and passed so much of their time in the water, that they had developed webbed feet and hands, and become a sort of half men, half frogs.

“Travellers’ tales, my dear sir, mere travellers’ tales,” Captain Warren had declared, contemptuously, when the doctor had unfolded his plans, and asked him whether he thought he could take the Kestrelto the island, and give him the chance of discovering some members of this wonderful race. “Of course I can take you to the island–it lies not a great way from New Guinea, and I have myself already sailed round it, twenty or twenty-five years ago. But you can’t get beyond the outer fringe of it–no one has ever yet succeeded in penetrating the miles upon miles of swampy vegetation–and as for any ‘freaks’ of the sort you’ve been told of–Pooh! such ideas are travellers’ tales–the sort of thing, in fact, which we keep on board ship to be served out specially to the marines!”

However, the doctor’s scientific curiosity had been aroused, and in the end he had prevailed upon Warren to take the vessel in the direction of the mysterious island, instead of going, as had at first been intended, on a cruise to New Zealand.

So here they were, in due course, in sight of “Doubtful Island”–as the place has been called on some old charts–and Ray, taking up a pair of powerful glasses, stared through them for some time without speaking. Then he put them down with a disappointed air.

“Certainly the place doesn’t look very promising, Captain Warren,” he said. “As you say, there seems to be no sign of dry land. One can understand now why they have called it ‘Doubtful Island.’ I am sorry, for–well, I expect you know without my telling you–I was looking forward to some adventures in exploring an unknown country.”

“For the matter of that,” said the captain in a low voice, “I’m not so sure but what you may have an adventure yet–if ye mean fighting. Not very far away, on t’ other side, there are some islands inhabited by a lot o’ swabs–vile cannibals, every one of ’em; and for some reason or other they’re fond of coming over and hanging around ‘Doubtful Island.’ What their little game is I don’t rightly know. Some say that they come for fish; others that they find here amongst the swamps some curious big lizards which they kill for the skin, which is supposed to be harder and tougher than crocodile skin. May be so, may be not. But I’ve got some notions of my own about all that.”

Ray looked inquiringly at the speaker. In his manner, more than in his words, there was a suggestion of something mysterious which roused the young fellow’s curiosity.

“What do you mean, captain?” he asked eagerly. “What are the ‘notions’ you hint at? Tell me what you mean–I’m dying to know.”

“Well, perhaps it’s better you should know, Mr. Ray,” was the answer, spoken in serious fashion. “In fact I was going to tell ye on the quiet that I want you to keep a sharp look-out all the time we’re in these waters–as sharp as ye can without exactly letting anybody notice. D’ye understand?”

“Why no, I don’t,” returned Ray, frankly. “Whatever are you driving at, captain? Who is it I am not to let know? The doctor–?”

“Oh no! I didn’t refer to Dr. Strongfold, o’ course. Only it’s not much use speaking like that to him–he is too abstracted and careless–too much taken up with his scientific hobbies, and–“

“Ay, aye; I quite see that. But who, then–of whom are you afraid?”

“Pooh! I’m not afraid of anybody, of course–specially with a ship like the Kestrel, in which I’ve had many a stiff fight–aye, and have beat off much bigger vessels, too, as you know–“

“And we are so well armed, too,” Ray put in. “What can there be–or who can there be–about here to be afraid of?”

Ray looked thoroughly puzzled. It has been already hinted that the Kestrelhad seen some fighting. As a matter of fact, though ostensibly a private yacht, she had been built and fitted out almost as a gun-boat; and she carried a very formidable armament, though it was so artfully hidden away, when not required, that there was little trace of it to be seen by any save a very keen observer.

“‘Tain’t that, lad; ‘tain’t that,” answered the old sea dog, shaking his head. “Of course I know we can fight anything or anybody we’re likely t’ have to fight in these seas, if it comes to fair fighting. But they dosay–there are rumours–dark stories–a bit wild and vague too, yet possible enough–of ships having mysteriously disappeared in these waters. What’s become of ’em nobody knows; no trace of the ship–no survivor–nothing’s ever come to land to explain. The place is a veritable mystery of the sea. The only reasonable theory is that the missing vessels may have been surprised by a lot o’ these cannibal natives, with their swarms of canoes–swabs who’d loot an’ burn the vessel, and then dine off the people on board her.”

Ray shuddered. “I begin to catch your idea, captain,” said he. “But so far as we are concerned, of course, the only thing we have to fear is a surprise?”

“Yes–and no,” Warren answered, dubiously. “Ye know that we lost some of our best hands at Sydney; these rumours of fresh gold discoveries got hold of ‘em, they got the gold fever and went off. And the chaps I had to take on in their places are a muddle-headed lot–if there ain’t worse among ’em. I wouldn’t trust to ’em to keep a proper sharp look-out at night, an’ that’s why I give ye the hint. So keep your eyes open, Mr. Ray, and help me to keep a sharp lookout, especially at night–an’ more especially still if ye see any suspicious canoes hovering about. Even one or two may mean mischief, because there may be swarms more skulkin’ out o’ sight close at hand. This swampy region we’re nearing is just the place for the cunning beggars to hide in an’ to help ’em bring off an ambuscade business. See?”

“Yes! I quite see now, captain; and you may rely upon my keeping my eyes open and my wits about me,” replied Ray, promptly.

“And I have taken my precautions and laid my plans,” Warren declared finally. “My oldest and trustiest hands have been warned and told exactly what to do in case of anything suspicious being seen; so now we can end our little talk, and if you like you can fetch the doctor up. He’s dozing in the cabin, I guess. I expect he’ll like to know we’re nearing the place where he hopes to find his wonderful frog-men.”

With a cheery laugh the skipper went off towards the bow, while Ray went to tell the news to the scientist.

Five minutes later he returned to the deck; accompanied, this time, by Dr. Strongfold. The doctor was about fifty years of age, stout but active, florid of complexion, with a sharp keen eye, which, however, had in it, latent if not always openly expressed, a certain quiet, good-humoured twinkle.

“At last, Ray, my lad, at last!” he cried, enthusiastically, as he patted his young companion on the shoulder. “At last we shall see whether I’ve been rightly informed!”

“I’ve never been able to make out yet who ’twas gave you the information, sir,” Ray observed, with a suggestion of reproach in his tone.

“Because I was made to promise I wouldn’t tell,” said the doctor. “My informant made that an important condition, and having promised, of course I’ve kept to it. However, you shall know all in good time. We shall be able to put the matter to the test very soon

now–and then–”

“Then we shall see what we shall see, doctor,” laughed the captain, who had just joined the two. “Well! There’s your precious island, sir. What d’you think of it?”

Apparently the savant did not think very much of it, for, like Ray, he first stared through the glasses and then put them down with a distinct suggestion of disappointment.

“Goodness!” he exclaimed. “Why, it looks like merely a vast expanse of floating sea-weed, with a lot of driftwood mixed up in it. Call that an island–”

“Inever called it an island,” Warren reminded him. “Very much the other way.”

“Humph!” The worthy doctor looked somewhat gloomily forth over the conglomeration of weed and driftwood which was all that was visible. Then he took out a pocket book, opened it, and drew from it a sheet of paper.

“Upon the south side, near the south-eastern corner, is a sort of bay,” he said, reading from his notes, “and there will be found a wide channel running up into the swamp–a channel, apparently, which was originally that of a wide river, but which has become greatly choked by vegetation. Eh?” He looked up sharply, as he caught a chuckle from the skipper.

“I shall be greatly choked in a minute,” Warren exclaimed, with difficulty swallowing down his inclination to laugh. “Why the whole place is ‘choked with vegetation’; any one can see that! May I ask where you got that valuable prescription, doctor, and who wrote it out?”

“Never mind,” the scientist replied, good-humouredly. “I’ve given you the prescription–it’s for you to make it up. Find me the south-east corner and the bay, and then we’ll get out a boat and look for the channel.”

With a shrug of the shoulders, as who should say, “I wonder what the next nonsense will be?” the captain went to the compass to consult it, gave some orders to the helmsman, and an hour later brought the yacht up in the middle of a deep bay. Here–greatly to his surprise–he discovered there was a good anchorage.

“Why, whoever would have thought it!” he cried. “I never knew there was an anchorage in this miserable, world-forsaken place.”

The doctor rubbed his hands.

“Shows my informant knew what he was talking about, anyway,” he remarked, blithely. “Now, captain, please let a boat be got out, and pick me a good crew. Let ’em bring rifles and revolvers–and–ah–let Shorter be one of ’em.”

The captain gave a scarcely perceptible start.

“Shorter!” he repeated. “Why Shorter?”

“Never mind now; I want him with me,” said the doctor, quietly.

Ridd Shorter, as he was called, was one of the new hands the captain had referred to in his talk with Ray–one of those recently taken on at Sydney. He was no favourite with his officer, but the skipper acceded to the request with a half- muttered protest.

“You seem to ‘ve taken a great fancy to Shorter doctor! I’d rather you kept to our old hands! However, of course you can take him if you choose.”

Ray got into the boat with the exploring party, and an hour later they found the channel as predicted by the doctor, and entering it, soon lost sight of the ship.

“There must be land, or those trees couldn’t grow as they do,” observed the doctor, pointing to the banks on either side. “Ha! What is it, Shorter?”

Ridd Shorter was pointing to something in the distance. It looked like a canoe moored to the bank under a dense mass of foliage. The boat’s course was altered, and she presently drew up beside the bank. There, close to her, was a very old-looking canoe, half on the bank and half in the water.

“There’s something lying in the bottom,” cried the doctor, as he stood up to get a better view. “Why, it’s–it’s–”

“It looks like the dead body of a man–the body of a native,” said Ray, as he, too, stood up and peered into the craft. “Why, it seems quite dried up–a mere mummy!” he went on, in astonishment.

The doctor had already sprung ashore on the marshy bank, and reached the side of the canoe. He bent over the queer form lying in it, touched it, moved it a little; picked up one of the dried- up, withered legs, and dropped it again.

“Yes!” he said, in a tone half of awe, half of triumph. “You are right, Ray, as to its being a mummified body of a man–but–it’s a man with webbed feet!”

II. CAPTAIN WARREN’S MISGIVINGS

AN hour later, just before sunset, the boat with the exploring party returned to the ship, towing behind them the canoe with its grim occupant.

The skipper’s face was a study as the men hauled the relic on board.

“Handspikes and fishhooks!” he exclaimed. “What in thunder ‘ve you got there? Is it a new kind of fish?”

“It’s a ‘find,’ captain,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands. He was greatly elated at this early success–doubly pleased, in that it was not only a remarkable scientific discovery in itself, but it enabled him to turn the tables, so to speak, upon his friend the skipper. For the sceptical man of the sea had chaffed the man of science unmercifully throughout the voyage, losing no opportunity of declaring his frank disbelief in the existence of the “men with webbed feet.” And now, lo! behold! the doctor had scored by capturing a specimen at the very first attempt!

“It’s a great ‘find,’ a grand find!” continued the doctor. “Ha! what will they say in England when I lecture on this at the Royal Institution?”

“Harpoons and codfish! It beats everything!” muttered the old mariner, as the scientist pointed out the webbed feet. “Blow me up with a sky rocket, if ever I’d ‘ve believed it!”

Dr. Strongfold carried off his prize to the little cabin which he had been allowed to use as a sort of combined laboratory and “mounting” room. Here he was wont to dissect and “mount” all sorts and kinds of queer, out-of-the-way zoological and entomological specimens. He had already got together a fearsome and awe-inspiring collection–or so the wondering sailors considered it–but there was nothing amongst the whole accumulation of monstrosities to equal this last addition.

Later on, when walking to and fro upon the deck with Ray, smoking his pipe, under a light awning which shaded them from the rays of a half-moon high overhead, the skipper showed himself to be a bit puzzled.

“Seems a little queer, ye know, Mr. Ray, this grand find o’ the doctor’s. I wouldn’t like to say such a thing to him–but, to my mind, ye see–hum! well, it’s a rum go!”

“Very remarkable, captain,” assented the young fellow, who was frankly delighted at the doctor’s unexpected success. “What a noise it will make at home when all the big-wigs come to hear about it! There’ll be lots of articles in all the papers, and they’ll be talking about the Kestrel’scruise as a voyage of scientific discovery, and we shall all–”

“All have our names in print,” the old salt interrupted, somewhat testily. “Pooh! I’m not thinking about that! Of course I’m glad for our good friend the doctor’s sake–but–” Then he broke off, sniffed discontentedly, and gazed in gloomy silence out over the moonlit sea.

“Then what is it you’re thinking about, sir?” Ray asked, looking at his companion in surprise.

Warren remained for a space staring straight before him without speaking. Presently he passed a hand across his forehead, as though he were trying to brush away some confusing thought that was worrying him. Then he took a seat against the bulwark, and motioned to Ray to do the same; looked round to make sure that no one was listening, and resumed the talk, speaking in low, cautious accents.

“It’s this way, Mr. Ray. I’m a rough old sailor, as ye know, and am little given to fancies, or sentiments, an’ that sort o’ rubbish; but I do confess to you as I am bothered with a sort o’ feeling that something’s in the wind more than you and I are aware of.”

“A–a–why, not–not–a presentiment, Captain Warren?” Ray stared in astonishment, as well he might, for he knew that the skipper was usually about the last man in the world likely to confess to such a weakness as a “presentiment.”

“I dunno anything about presentiments,” Warren answered, a little shamefacedly, “but I’ve got a sort of idea that things are not right. This grand discovery of the doctor’s has come about a little too easily–looks a little too much like being all ‘as per programme,’ if you can understand.” He paused as if in perplexity.

“But–I can’t see how. I’m sure I can’t make out your ideas, captain.”

“Nor can I myself–not to my own satisfaction,” Warren admitted. “However, let me put it another way, then p’rhaps you’ll see my drift. This thing you came upon so pat and brought back with you this afternoon–you were hardly gone a couple of hours–this mummified frog, or froggified man, or whatever it is–how long d’you suppose it’d been lying where you came upon it?”

“How long?–oh! I’m sure I’ve no idea. How can I tell?”

“Well, it couldn’t have been long, could it? In this region–here, almost under the equator–things of flesh an’ blood don’t be about long before something happens–do they? even if, as the doctor calls it, mummified?”

Ray assented to this proposition.

“Well, you know the whole thing has a sort of ‘got up’ look. The canoe is old, dried up, rotten; the body is dried up, too, same as if some one had put ’em there like that to give the idea they’d laid there for a long time–months–years. Yet we know that’s impossible. Ants, alone, would ‘ve found the thing an’ ate it up in no time; to say nothing of other creatures. Therefore it must ‘ve been put there very recently–yesterday–p’rhaps to-day. The thing didn’t put itself there: an’ it didn’t die accidentally and dry up like that?”

“No; I suppose you’re right.”

“Then somebody put it there just as if they knew you were going to look for it–and not long before we arrived here; just as if they had sighted the yacht coming and had been waiting ready.”

“Im–possible!” exclaimed Ray, drawing a long breath. “Why! to suppose that would be to suppose–oh! all sorts of impossible things, Captain Warren!”

“So it seems–at first sight–but–somehow–By the way, who really found the thing? I mean, who led the way to it, or who first caught sight of it–you or the doctor?”

“Why–h’m–neither, I fancy,” answered Ray, rather confusedly trying to carry his thoughts back to what had actually occurred. “It was–yes–it was Shorter who first caught sight of the canoe as it lay under some trees. And he pointed it out to the doctor.”

“Ah!”

It was all the captain said. After that he remained silent, puffing vigorously at his pipe and staring straight before him. Nor did he resume the talk later on, but got up, after a brief space, and walked away without another word. Yet there was a suggestion of so much hidden meaning in the one word he had spoken, that Ray opened his eyes and gazed at the skipper with looks of something very like amazement.

Then the doctor came on deck, full of enthusiasm, and brimming over with scientific information concerning the examination he had been making of his “find.” Nothing more, however, was said that evening upon the part of the subject which seemed to have so interested the worthy captain.

“We’ll turn in early to-night, lad,” said the doctor, at last, as he caught Ray trying to stifle a yawn. “I’m going to start in the boat again early in the morning to make a further exploration. This time we will go prepared to carry our quest much further, even to camp out for a night or two if needs be. I feel sure that that channel extends a long way. It may even lead us into the interior.”

“Strange that such a channel should exist and never been discovered before,” murmured Ray, sleepily. “Captain Warren declares that years ago he sailed clean round the whole place, searching for something of the kind, and that he could not see a trace of it.”

“That may well have been the case at that time,” returned the scientist. “I noted many signs, to-day, tending to show that this opening has been made recently–that is, within the last few years. I am inclined to think there are volcanic forces at work in the interior, and something must have burst its barriers, as it were, and rushed down, breaking through the tangled growth, and so opening a way to the sea. However, we’ll turn in now so that we can be up the earlier in the morning. You’d like to come with me, Ray?”

“Very much indeed, sir. Will Captain Warren come, too?”

“No; he says he will not risk leaving the vessel, though what he’s afraid of I can’t quite understand. One would almost think that after pooh-poohing my web-footed men all along, he had been induced, by our find of to-day, to believe that the whole region is alive with ‘em, and that he fears they will make a descent on the yacht in their thousands, while he is away.”

And laughing genially at the fancy thus called up, the doctor sought his bunk.

Ray sought his, too; but he could not sleep. Something in the captain’s manner had oppressed him with a vague sense of hidden danger. At last he got up and crept silently on deck.

There he found the skipper pacing tirelessly and noiselessly up and down.

“Are you not going to turn in, sir?” he asked, in surprise. “Aren’t you going to get some sleep; you must be as tired–”

“Not now,” returned the skipper, almost in a whisper. “Not here. While we remain here I prefer to get what sleep I want in the day time. However, that’s nothing to do with you, my lad; so off you go back to your bunk again!”

Thus urged, Ray obeyed; and this time he got to sleep.

III. THE GREAT LIZARD OF THE POOL

IT has been said that Ray at last got to sleep, but if the truth be told it was a sleep disturbed by some queer, wild dreams, in which the grotesque and the gruesome were strangely intermingled.

For instance, he dreamed, at one time, that they were all back in England, where the country was ringing with the noise of their discoveries, and with praises of their exploits in the now famous Kestrel. Crossing Trafalgar Square, he saw the whole side of the National Gallery covered with a gigantic poster on which was his own name in letters reaching from the roof to the ground. Turning from this, he perceived a crowd around a colossal monument standing in the place which the well known fountains used to occupy. Wondering as to what they could be gazing at so reverently, he glanced upwards, and lo! there was a statue of himself, in “heroic” size–and something more–dressed in the uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet. But as he looked, he noticed that one eye of the statue was closed, as if winking, and that one hand pointed downwards. Following the direction of the pointing finger, he saw, to his horror, that this amazing statue of himself had webbed feet!

As he cast a glance down towards his own feet, to make sure that this was not a true representation of his lower limbs, he perceived that he was in evening dress; and just then some one took him by the arm and urged him onwards. “They’re waiting for ye, Mr. Ray,” said a voice, which he recognized as that of Tom Waring, the first mate of the Kestrel. Inquiries, as they hurried along, elicited from Tom–who was also in evening dress–the information that he (Ray) was overdue at Burlington House, where the King and the President of the Royal Geographical Society were waiting to hear his promised lecture upon “The Dried Frogs and Mummified Toads of Doubtful Island.” When, however, they reached the place, he found that it was a ball-room, and the assembled guests were waiting for him to lead off in the first dance.

Immediately he arrived, he was seized upon by His Majesty on one side, and the President of the Royal Society on the other, and they all joined hands and danced wildly round in a circle, in which were the Prime Minister, Captain Warren, Dr. Strongfold and others; while, as he whirled about, he noticed that Ridd Shorter was playing the big drum. Suddenly the latter gave a tremendous thump, which seemed to be a sort of signal, for immediately those around him let go hands, and each began dancing a hornpipe on his own account. Louder and wilder grew the music, and faster went the legs of His Majesty, the President, the Prime Minister, and all the rest, as with folded arms and perspiring faces they tried to keep up with the ever-increasing speed of the music. Then Ray looked down, and behold! they all had bare, webbed feet; of which, however, they seemed particularly proud, for they were doing their best, as they danced, to draw the onlookers’ attention to them and show them off!

At that moment there came a louder bang at the drum, and a crash as if Shorter had jumped on it and fallen through–and Ray woke up.

“They’re waitin’ for ye, Mr. Ray,” said the voice again–the same voice he had heard in his dreams.

“Where am I to go now, Tom?” Ray asked, wearily. “I’m about tired out! I tried my best to keep step with His Majesty, but he went too fast for me–”

“The doctor’s waitin’ for ye, Mr. Ray.”

Ray sprang out of his bunk and stared at Tom Waring, the mate.

“You–why–you’re not in evening dress, Tom!” he spluttered; and then he looked down at his feet. “Are your feet all right, Tom,” he asked, anxiously, “or have they turned to webbed–”

“Ye’re not awake yet, sir,” grinned Tom. “But ye’d better make haste, or the boats ‘ll go off without ‘ee.”

Then Ray perceived that he had been dreaming.

“Wait half a jiff, Tom, and I’ll be ready,” he cried.

“I’m goin’ too, to-day; cap’en’s orders,” Tom remarked, while waiting. “Special service–to look after you.”

“After me?” Ray asked, wonderingly. “Why after me in particular?”

“Dunno! cap’en’s orders! Says he’s goin’ to look after th’ ship, an’ I be to look after you.”

A tough-looking old son of the sea was Tom Waring, with his grizzled beard sticking out from his chin in a fashion which seemed half saucy, half a challenge, so to speak, to all and sundry. Honest and trustworthy to the core was Tom; and the captain knew it. And since the skipper could not be with his ship and with Ray too, he had decided upon what he considered the next best thing–to send his trusted mate with the boat party.

“An’ take care ye look after the lad, Tom, an’ don’t ye trust him out o’ your sight–specially in company of Sh–, of any of these new hands we’ve taken on,” he growled. “Don’t you forget that I’m responsible for the lad to his father. If anything happened to him, how’d I ever look Mr. Lonsdale in the face again?”

“Or me, either?” Tom assented.

“Oh you–if you were to come back without the lad you’d never be here to see his father.”

“Why not, cap’en?” Tom inquired, innocently.

“Because I’d string ye up at the yard-arm,” was the startling answer.

But the threat did not anger honest Tom. He and his chief understood one another. Many were the fights they had seen together, many were the “tight corners” they had been in together; many were the times each had been indebted to the other for his life–more times than they could count. At heart they were the closest of friends–though at times, before the sailors, Warren would find fault with his mate and swear at him roundly.

“Cap’en don’t mean nothin’,” Tom would say at such times, philosophically. “It’s all done for effeck! It has a good effeck on the others!”

The boats sailed away–there were two of them this time, one being laden with provisions, tents, and camp equipage–and the breeze being favourable, they soon passed out of sight of the ship, and made the channel, where there was still enough wind to take them at a steady rate against the gentle current flowing down towards the sea. As they went on, the waterway opened out, the banks were farther apart, and low rocks appeared, which gradually became higher and bolder in shape till they took the form of cliffs and low, rugged-looking hills.

Presently the explorers could see, through a haze, the outlines of distant mountains.

“I think we’ll make a mid-day halt here and wait for the cool of the afternoon before going further,” said the doctor at last. “On the shore, yonder, I see a stretch of greensward with a stream tumbling from the rocks, and beside it a shady grove. That should make a good camping ground, I’m thinking, where we could pass the night if needs be, after we’ve explored the neighbourhood.”

The boats were steered to the bank, and a good landing place having been chosen, the doctor and Ray, with two or three men, took up their arms, and went to reconnoitre, before landing more of their party.

It was a wild, gloomy-looking spot they had chanced upon. Great masses of rock were piled about in picturesque confusion, while at the end of the valley, steep cliffs, many of them covered with thickets of dark-looking trees, rose one behind the other, frowning down upon them and seemingly completely shutting them in. Near the shore, however, was a flat stretch of green upon which was the leafy grove which the doctor had descried. Through this, beneath the welcome shade, tumbled and foamed a small stream which issued from the rocks beyond and finally found its way across the green, meadow-like flat to the shore. Except for the sombre, forbidding aspect of the towering rocks in the background, however, the spot seemed in many respects an ideal camping ground for the hot and thirsty travellers.

“No sign of any inhabitants,” decided the doctor, after a careful look round.

Nor had they seen any evidence of human occupation on their voyage up the broad waterway. There had been ample signs of almost every other kind of life. Through his glasses Ray had scanned the banks on either side, and had noted that the region teemed with living creatures. Crocodiles–some of immense size–were to be seen basking in the mud or crawling sluggishly up the banks; flamingoes, in flocks, were fishing in the pools on the shore; herons and cranes abounded, and gaudily- plumaged parrots screamed and darted to and fro amongst the trees. Palms and great tree-ferns were growing here and there in luxuriant profusion, while eagles, vultures and other big birds of prey were constantly met with, hovering overhead, as if meditating a swoop upon the boats and their venturesome occupants. Every now and then they disturbed flocks of wild swans, ducks and other waterfowl, which rose in the air with a sudden startling whir, and circled noisily round and round ere finally taking themselves off to other haunts. None of these, however, had been shot at by the travellers.

“Best not to attract the attention of possible inhabitants by firing just now,” the doctor had decided. “Evidently there is plenty of game about, and we can get it whenever we want it later on.”