Terrors (27 page)

Thus prepared he brushed his hair, straightened his uniform, and made to join his fellow inquirers.

As had been prearranged, the investigative team assembled in the Captain’s cabin as they arrived and settled into their respective quarters. The cabin was
furnished with a polished conference table and plush chairs. An ornate instrument panel comprising a great clock-face, compass, barometer, and navigational tools filled most of one wall. An electrical lighting system furnished illumination and the soft susurrus of fresh air, processed and piped throughout
Rosny
by the most up-to-date means, gave evidence that the submersible was a self-sufficient
and self-contained world of its own.

The cabin was located above the main body of the submersible and was fitted with large glass panels on both starboard and larboard sides. Upon arriving in the cabin, Colonel White observed the activity of sailors and dockmen on the quay. Not a word was spoken before
Rosny
began to move, so smoothly and gradually as to create the illusion that the submersible
remained stationary while the quay with its brilliant lights and scurrying workers was retreating.

But within fleeting moments, to
Rosny’s
forward motion was added a horizontal movement. The black sky with its crescent moon and glittering Saharan stars appeared overhead only briefly, then
Rosny
opened her buoyancy tanks to the Saharan brine.

Soon the world outside
Rosny’s
heavy glass panels
became one of utter blackness. Eventually brightly luminescent denizens of the Saharan deep would reveal themselves, Colonel White and his companions knew, but for the moment they might as well have been in the depths of interplanetary space, for all the commerce they held with the sea that surrounded them.

They sat around the polished wooden table, Jemond Jules Rouge at its head, Colonel Dwight
David White, Dottore Speranza Verde, Herr Siegfried Schwartz and Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue. The submersible’s Captain, Melisande Alexandre, had taken her place inconspicuously away from the table, clearly indicating a desire to observe but not to dominate the proceedings to follow.

Yes, Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue had arrived at the quay in time, barely in time, to make the sailing of
Rosny
. He was
disheveled, he was followed to the boarding ramp by a driver and footman carrying valises from which loose shirt-ends and stocking garters hung, his shirt was rumpled and his blond hair fell across his forehead, but he did not miss the sailing.

After messmen had served coffee and biscuits M. Rouge made welcoming remarks to the assembled group. “We are proceeding beneath the surface, my friends.
The tide is with us, flowing in a northerly direction. We should reach our destination within a half-day’s cruise. Until then, I hope that we may discuss our plan of investigation.”

Gazing around the table, he continued. “Each of you has been selected as the outstanding representative of your chosen profession. Dottore Verde was of course our first chosen expert. Her study of the tidal flow through
the Marée de Fureur has been vital, for the hydrological patterns and alterations of the sea bed encountered in this new body of water is a challenge unique.”

He bowed to Speranza Verde.

“Herr Schwartz and Sir Shepley are representatives of converging disciplines. Our preliminary findings indicate that the relics we are
about to examine are of an Egyptian or pre-Egyptian origin. Their significance
and value to the modern world, beyond that of the purely scholarly, are, one surmises, incalculable.”

The German nodded acknowledgement of Rouge’s words. Schwartz had lighted a black cigar and gestured with it. The Englishman, clad in soft tweeds that complimented his light hair and mustache, fumbled in his pockets for a pipe and tobacco. Finding them, he packed the pipe and held a match to its
bowl. The smoke that rose was drawn away by the submersible’s ventilation system. Sidwell-Blue muttered his acknowledgement.

“And Colonel White,” the Frenchman concluded, “is our military man. A grand concession by France to nominate a representative of the Confederacy to this position, but of course the friendship of our two great Republics is of historic nature, known to all around the world.”

Before David White could reply, the room was startled by the clatter of Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue’s pipe on the polished mahogany table. “I say,” the Englishman exclaimed, “I fear we’re under attack. Just look at that!”

He pointed to the oblong window on the starboard side of the cabin.

A vast creature was charging at
Rosny
. Its eyes were huge, its open mouth contained rows of gigantic, murderous
teeth. Its fins were clawed like those of certain tropical frogs that David White had encountered in his service in the jungles of Belize, and it used them in a manner suggestive of an amphibian crawling toward its hopeless prey.

Strangest of all, the creature appeared to be carrying a lighted lantern in its single hand. Upon more considered observation the seeming lantern proved to be a naturally
luminescent organ mounted on a flexible stalk that rose from the creature’s forehead.

David White’s hand moved instinctively to his sidearm. But he realized almost at once that the Harrington and Richardson would do little to help the voyagers if their aquatic attacker succeeded in bursting through
Rosny’s
glass plate. To his astonishment, the creature swam to within seeming inches of the glass,
then hovered, its clawlike fins moving slowly to and fro. At the submersible’s rate of speed the creature was obviously a mighty swimmer to maintain pace at all, no less with such seeming ease.

Even as the voyagers, recovering from their initial startlement, left their seats to cluster at the glass, the creature held pace, returning their
curious stares with an expression of its own that seemed
to duplicate their surprise.

The laughter of Monsieur Rouge drew their attention back from the sea. “A common sight nowadays, my friends. Since the creation of the Sahara Sea, creatures have invaded this new body of water, making their way from the Mediterranean and even in some cases from the cold waters of the Atlantic. The Sahara Sea offers the appeal of a warm and mostly gentle body, and
in less than a century that the Sahara Sea has existed, numerous species have come to visit and stayed to raise their progeny.”

“By Jove,” the Englishman inquired, “are there no native species in this lovely little pond?”

At this moment the ferocious-appearing lantern bearer, its curiosity as to
Rosny
and her occupants satisfied, flashed away from the submersible and disappeared into the darkness.

“Perhaps, if you will return to your places,
Mademoiselle et Messieurs
, Dottore Verde will enlighten us as to the plan of action once we reach our destination.

Speranza Verde rose to her feet.

“With permission of Captain Alexandre, I have plotted our course to bring us to our destination as the tidal flow ceases. Of course it will in due time reverse its direction and flow back from the Bay
of Sidra toward the City of Sercout from which we departed. Such tidal reversals are of course entirely normal.”

She paused in her presentation to draw from a cylindrical case which had previously been placed in the cabin a nautical chart of the Sahara Sea, centering up the Iles de Crainte and Doute. This she spread on the table so that all the travelers might see it.

“The lunar and solar attractions
that control earthly tides are at this time in unique conjunction. The result will be a period of several hours during which the channel between the two
isole
becomes a dry bed. This phenomenon is not unknown, of course.”

She paused to smile, and David White was struck by the brightness and gentleness of her expression.

“Students of the Bible,” Speranza Verde went on, “will recall the parting
of the Red Sea upon the command of Moses. It is my belief that this event was in fact a tidal anomaly similar to that which is about to occur. When we reach our destination, Captain Alexandre informs me,
Rosny
will rest upon her Wells tracks and use them for
any needed short-distance travel. You may rest assured that we will be safe from the waters during this period, but we must all complete
out work before the Marée rushes back upon us, however. Our period of safety, according to my calculations, will be approximately four hours, thirty-two minutes, and sixteen seconds.”

“I say, I say,” Sidwell-Blue put in. He had long since recovered his pipe and was puffing furiously away at it, challenging the ability of the air-circulator to keep up with his production of bluish smoke. “I say,
are you
sure
this won’t be dangerous? Perhaps we should try this another time, don’t you know”

From her position in a corner of the cabin, Captain Alexandre put in, “Quite sure, Sir Shepley. There is nothing to fear.”

“And as for another time,” Speranza Verde put in, “do you know how long it is since Moses parted the Red Sea? That is how often this peculiar phenomenon occurs. If we do not take
advantage of our opportunity, we will all be several thousand years old before another such presents itself.”

“Well,” Sidwell-Blue stammered, “well, if you’re really certain, C-Captain,. And, ah, D-Doctor. But, but, it strikes me that this is a dashedly dangerous undertaking. You know, I’ve always worked in the museum, don’t you know. This is all quite new to me, this racing about like a pack
of Alan Quatermains and Captain Nemo’s.”

Out of the corner of his eye Colonel White saw what appeared to be a gray-cloaked and death-white-masked figure streak across the room and launch itself through the air. It bounced off the paunch of the unsuspecting Herr Schwartz, eliciting a startled grunt and a violent exclamation, then landed with a skid in the center of the nautical chart that had
been spread on the conference table.

“The apologies of
Rosny
, Mein Herr,” Captain Alexandre laughed. “Madame et messieurs, may I present My Lady Bast, our ship’s mascot and mouser par excellence.”

The large cat studied each of the conferees in turn, directing a piercing glance from golden eyes that punctuated a snowy white face while she twitched her powder-gray tail thoughtfully. She made her
opinion obvious, redirecting her attention from the conferees to the task of washing her paws.

“You should not barnyard animals on a ship carry,” Herr Schwartz growled, “unless they are cargo to market being transported.”

Captain Alexandre ignored the German’s complaint. She stroked
the luxurious fur; My Lady Bast twitched her ears in response. Captain Alexandre compared the time according to
her watch, with that indicated by the ship’s clock. She nodded to the hydrologist, Speranza Verde, then to the others. “I think it is time to begin your explorations. I will remain aboard
Rosny
. You understand the constraints of time under which your operate.”

At Captain Alexandre’s command the submersible rose to the surface of the Fleuve Triste. Colonel White found himself standing between
Dottore Verde and Monsieur Rouge. A polished metal railing surrounded
Rosny’s
deck. Sea water dripped from it and ran from the submersible’s deck into the fleuve.

The sky above was still black. The tropic stars blazed like the flames that astronomers stated that they were.

Each of the explorers carried an electro-atomic powered portable lantern. Further, Colonel White noted to his amusement
that the costume of each showed a mysterious bulge which he took to reveal the presence of a clandestinely carried firearm. Even Dottore Verde was so armed. Her weapon, he inferred, was most likely a small but efficient Gilsenti automatic pistol.

Now the sun’s first rays illumined the western sky, and within moments the edge of the solar disk appeared over the waters of the Sahara Sea. Bright
points of light danced across the brine.

At this moment a buzzing sound was heard, and Colonel White along with his companions turned his eyes skyward. The daily flight from Rome to Serkut appeared, the sun’s early rays reflecting off its polished metal exterior. The Bleriot trimotor’s propellers were powered by Curie electro-atomic engines similar to those that furnished
Rosny’s
propulsion.
The aeroplane’s passengers, business travelers, tourists, diplomats, might well be gazing downward at
Rosny
even as
Rosny’s
explorers were gazing upward at the Bleriot.

Now there came a great rushing, roaring sound; the submersible rocked, bounced once, and settled onto the rocky sand at the bottom of the Fleuve Triste. The Curie engine hummed and the submersible’s Wells tracks found their footing
on the sand and steadied the submersible.

“
Alors
,” Captain Alexandre announced with a smile, “madame et monsieurs, we are here. You have my permission to depart my ship. I wish you well, and shall expect your safe return in four hours, thirty-two minutes, sixteen seconds.”

She exchanged handshakes with Jemond Jules Rouge and Shepley Sidwell-Blue. Herr Schwartz instead offered a bow and click
of his heels. With Speranza Verde she exchanged a brief embrace, and with Colonel Dwight David White a crisp military salute.

The explorers clambered down the ship’s ladder. Standing on the still moist sand of the Fleuve Triste they found it drying rapidly. The tropical sun seemed to have sprung into a brilliant and cloudless sky. Here and there specks of crystal in the Sahara sand reflected
as points of brilliance.

Speranza Verde had brought with her the Roentgen-Daguerre plates that she had shown David White the night before, and Herr Schwartz carried a smaller version of the nautical chart that had been left on the conference table aboard
Rosny
.

A gray and white streak whizzed past the exploration party, raced up a sandy hillock and disappeared.

“That, was M-My Lady Bast, My
Lady Bast!” Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue exclaimed. “The creature will be lost. The w-water will rush back in four hours and she will be l-lost.”

“Too bad for her,” Herr Schwartz growled. “But a good thing she did, the way showing us to the finds.” He held the map before him and pointed in the direction My Lady Bast had taken. “March!” he commanded.