Through all this sleepless1 night I have followed the keg in fancy. How many times I seem to see it swept against the rocks in the tunnel into a creek2, or some excavation3. I am in a cold perspiration4 from head to foot. Then I imagine that it has been carried out to sea. Heavens! if the returning tide should sweep it back to tho entrance and then through the tunnel into the lagoon5! I must be on the lookout6 for it.
I rise before the sun and saunter down to the lagoon. Not a single object is floating on its calm surface.
The work on the tunnel through the side of the cavern7 goes on, and at four o’clock in the afternoon on September 23, Engineer Serko blows away the last rock obstructing9 the issue, and communication with the outer world is established. It is only a very narrow hole, and one has to stoop to go through it. The exterior10 orifice is lost among the crannies of the rocky coast, and it would be easy to obstruct8 it, if such a measure became necessary.
It goes without saying that the passage will be strictly11 guarded. No one without special authorization12 will be able either to go out or come in, therefore there is little hope of escape in that direction.
September 25.—This morning the tug13 rose from the depth of the lagoon to the surface, and has now run alongside the jetty. The Count d’Artigas and Captain Spade disembark, and the crew set to work to land the provisions—boxes of canned meat, preserves, barrels of wine and spirits, and other things brought by the Ebba, among which are several packages destined14 for Thomas Roch. The men also land the various sections of Roch’s engines which are discoid in shape.
The inventor watches their operations, and his eyes glisten15 with eagerness. He seizes one of the sections, examines it, and nods approval. I notice that his joy no longer finds expression in incoherent utterances16, that he is completely transformed from what he was while a patient at Healthful House. So much is this the case that I begin to ask myself whether his madness which was asserted to be incurable17, has not been radically18 cured.
At last Thomas Roch embarks19 in the boat used for crossing the lake and is rowed over to his laboratory. Engineer Serko accompanies him. In an hour’s time the tug’s cargo20 has all been taken out and transported to the storehouses.
Ker Karraje exchanges a word or two with Engineer Serko and then enters his mansion21. Later, in the afternoon, I see them walking up and down in front of the Beehive and talking earnestly together.
Then they enter the new tunnel, followed by Captain Spade. If I could but follow them! If I could but breathe for awhile the bracing22 air of the Atlantic, of which the interior of Back Cup only receives attenuated23 puffs24, so to speak.
From September 26 to October 10.—Fifteen days have elapsed. Under the directions of Engineer Serko and Thomas Roch the sections of the engines have been fitted together. Then the construction of their supports is begun. These supports are simple trestles, fitted with transverse troughs or grooves25 of various degrees of inclination26, and which could be easily installed on the deck of the Ebba, or even on the platform of the tug, which can be kept on a level with the surface.
Thus Ker Karraje, will be ruler of the seas, with his yacht. No warship27, however big, however powerful, will be able to cross the zone of danger, whereas the Ebba will be out of range of its guns. If only my notice were found! If only the existence of this lair28 of Back Cup were known! Means would soon be found, if not of destroying the place, at least of starving the band into submission29!
October 20.—To my extreme surprise I find this morning that the tug has gone away again. I recall that yesterday the elements of the piles were renewed, but I thought it was only to keep them in order. In view of the fact that the outside can now be reached through the new tunnel, and that Thomas Roch has everything he requires, I can only conclude that the tug has gone off on another marauding expedition.
Yet this is the season of the equinoctial gales30, and the Bermudan waters are swept by frequent tempests. This is evident from the violent gusts31 that drive back the smoke through the crater32 and the heavy rain that accompanies it, as well as by the water in the lagoon, which swells33 and washes over the brown rocks on its shores.
But it is by no means sure that the Ebba has quitted her cove34. However staunch she may be, she is, it seems to me, of too light a build to face such tempests as now rage, even with the help of the tug.
On the other hand, although the tug has nothing to fear from the heavy seas, as it would be in calm water a few yards below the surface, it is hardly likely that it has gone on a trip unless to accompany the schooner35.
I do not know to what its departure can be attributed, but its absence is likely to be prolonged, for it has not yet returned.
Engineer Serko has remained behind, but Ker Karraje, Captain Spade, and the crew of the schooner, I find, have left.
Life in the cavern goes on with its usual dispiriting monotony. I pass hour after hour in my cell, meditating36, hoping, despairing, following in fancy the voyage of my little barrel, tossed about at the mercy of the currents and whose chances of being picked up, I fear, are becoming fainter each day, and killing37 time by writing my diary, which will probably not survive me.
Thomas Roch is constantly occupied in his laboratory manufacturing his deflagrator. I still entertain the conviction that nothing will ever induce him to give up the secret of the liquid’s composition; but I am perfectly38 aware that he will not hesitate to place his invention at Ker Karraje’s service.
I often meet Engineer Serko when my strolls take me in the direction of the Beehive. He always shows himself disposed to chat with me, though, it is true, he does so in a tone of impertinent frivolity39. We converse40 upon all sorts of subjects, but rarely of my position. Recrimination thereanent is useless and only subjects me to renewed bantering41.
October 22.—To-day I asked Engineer Serko whether the Ebba had put to sea again with the tug.
“Yes, Mr. Simon Hart,” he replied, “and though the clouds gather and loud the tempest roars, be in no uneasiness in regard to our dear Ebba.”
“Will she be gone long?”
“We expect her back within forty-eight hours. It is the last voyage Count d’Artigas proposes to make before the winter gales render navigation in these parts impracticable.”
“Is her voyage one of business or pleasure?”
“Of business, Mr. Hart, of business,” answered Engineer Serko with a smile. “Our engines are now completed, and when the fine weather returns we shall resume offensive operations.”
“Against unfortunate merchantmen.”
“As unfortunate as they are richly laden42.”
“Acts of piracy43, whose impunity44 will, I trust, not always be assured,” I cried..
“Calm yourself, dear colleague, be calm! Be calm! No one, you know, can ever discover our retreat, and none can ever disclose the secret! Besides, with these engines, which are so easily handled and are of such terrible power, it would be easy for us to blow to pieces any ship that attempted to get within a certain radius45 of the island.”
“Providing,” I said, “that Thomas Roch has sold you the composition of his deflagrator as he has sold you that of his fulgurator.”
“That he has done, Mr. Hart, and it behooves46 me to set your mind at rest upon that point.”
From this categorical response I ought to have concluded that the misfortune had been consummated47, but a certain hesitation48 in the intonation49 of his voice warned me that implicit50 reliance was not to be placed upon Engineer Serko’s assertions.
October 25.—What a frightful51 adventure I have just been mixed up in, and what a wonder I did not lose my life! It is only by a miracle that I am able to resume these notes, which have been interrupted for forty-eight hours. With a little luck, I should have been delivered! I should now be in one of the Bermudan ports—St. George or Hamilton. The mysteries of Back Cup would have been cleared up. The description of the schooner would have been wired all over the world, and she would not dare to put into any port. The provisioning of Back Cup would be impossible, and Ker Karraje’s bandits would be condemned52 to starve to death!
This is what occurred:
At eight o’clock in the evening on October 23, I quitted my cell in an indefinable state of nervousness, and with a presentiment53 that a serious event was imminent54. In vain I had tried to seek calmness in sleep. It was impossible to do so, and I rose and went out.
Outside Back Cup the weather must have been very rough. Violent gusts of wind swept in through the crater and agitated55 the water of the lagoon.
I walked along the shore on the Beehive side. No one was about. It was rather cold, and the air was damp. The pirates were all snugly56 ensconced in their cells, with the exception of one man, who stood guard over the new passage, notwithstanding that the outer entrance had been blocked. From where he was this man could not see the lagoon, moreover there were only two lamps alight, one on each side of the lake, and the forest of pillars was wrapt in the profoundest obscurity.
I was walking about in the shadow, when some one passed me.
I saw that he was Thomas Roch.
He was walking slowly, absorbed by his thoughts, his brain at work, as usual.
Was this not a favorable opportunity to talk to him, to enlighten him about what he was probably ignorant, namely, the character of the people into whose hands he had fallen?
“He cannot,” I argued, “know that the Count d’Artigas is none other than Ker Karraje............