 Chapter 10 of Facing the Flag. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are on the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by John D.K. Kuzkowsky. Facing the Flag by Jules Verne. Translated by Kassel Hoey. Chapter number 10. Care Carrage. The cell in which I reside is about 100 paces from the habitation of the Count Dartegas, which is one of the end ones of this row of the Beehive. If I am not too shared with Thomas Roche, I presume the latter cell is not far off. For, in order that Watergate and may continue to care for the expatient of Hellful House, their respective apartments will have to be contiguous. However, I suppose I shall soon be enlightened on this point. Captain Spade and Engineer Circo reside separately in Proximity 2 Dartegas' Mansion. Mansion? Yes. Why not dignify it with the title since this habitation has been arranged with a certain art? Skilful hands have carved on ornamental facade in the rock. The large door affords access to it. Colored glass windows in wooden frames let into the limestone walls admit the light. The interior comprises several chambers. A dining room and a drawing room lighted by a stained glass window. The hall being perfectly ventilated. The furniture is of various styles and shapes and a French, English and American make. The kitchen, larder, etc., are in adjoining cells in rear of the Beehive. In the afternoon, just as I issue for myself with the firm intention of obtaining an audience of the Count Dartegas, I catch sight of him coming along the shore of Lagoon towards the High. Either he does not see me nor wishes to avoid me, for he quickens his steps and I am unable to catch him. Well, he will have to receive me anyhow, I mutter to myself. I hurry up to the door through which he has just disappeared and which has closed behind him. It is guarded by a gigantic dark-skinned malay who orders me away in no amiable tone of voice. I decline to comply with his injunction and repeat to him twice the following request in my very best English. Tell the Count Dartegas that I desire to be received immediately. I might, just as well, have addressed myself to the surrounding rock. This savage, no doubt, does not understand a word of English. For he scalls me and orders me away again with a menacing cry. I have a good mind to attempt to force the door and shout so that the Count Dartegas cannot fail to hear me. But in all probability I shall only succeed in rousing the wrath of the malay, who appears to be endowed with her Culean strength. I therefore judge discretion to be the better part of valor and put off the explanation that is owing to me, and which sooner or later I will have to a more propitious occasion. I meander off in front of the beehive towards the east and my thought to revert to Thomas Roche. I am surprised that I have not seen him yet. Can he be in the throes of a fresh paroxysm? This hypothesis is hardly admissible for, if the Count Dartegas is to believe, he would in this event have summoned me to attend to the inventor. A little farther on I encounter engineer Circo. With his inviting manner and usual good humor, this eronical individual smiles when he perceives me, and does not seek to avoid me. If he knew I was a colleague and engineer, providing he himself really is one, perhaps he might receive me with more cordiality than I have yet encountered. But I am not going to be such a fool as to tell him who and what I am. He stops with laughing eyes and mocking mouth, and accompanies a good day, how do you do, with a gracious gesture of salutation. I respond coldly to his politeness, a fact that he affects not to notice. May St. Jonathan protect you, Mr. Gaiden, he continues in his clear ringing voice. Here in ought I presume, disposed to regret the fortunate circumstance by which you were permitted to visit this surpassingly marvelous cavern, and it really is one of the finest, although least known on this feroid. This word of a scientific language used in conversation with a simple hospital attendant surprises me, I admit, and I merely reply, I should have no reason to complain, Mr. Circo, if after having had the pleasure of visiting this cavern, I were at liberty to quit it. What, already thinking of leaving us, Mr. Gaiden, of returning to your dismal pavilion at Hellful House, why you have scarcely had time to explore our magnificent domain, or to admire the incomparable beauty with which nature has endowed it? What I have seen is vices, my answer, and should you, perchance, be talking seriously, I will assure you seriously, that I do not want to see any more of it. Come now, Mr. Gaiden, permit me to point out that you have not yet had the opportunity of appreciating the advantages of an existence passed in such unrivaled surroundings. It is a quiet life, exempt from care, with an assured future, material conditions such as are not to be met with anywhere, and even climate, and no more to fear from the tempests which desolate the coasts in this part of the Atlantic than from the cold of winter or the heat of summer. This temperate and salubrious atmosphere is scarcely affected by changes of season. Here, we have no need to apprehend the wrath of either Pluto or Neptune. Sir, I reply, it is impossible that this climate can suit you, that you can appreciate living in this grotto of, I was on the point of pronouncing the name of back up, fortunately I restrained myself in time, what would happen if they suspected that I am aware of the name of their island, and consequently of its position at the extremity of the Bermuda group. However, I continue, if this climate does not suit me, I have, I presume, the right to make a change. The right, of course. I understand from your remark that I shall be furnished with the means of returning to America when I want to go. I have no reason for opposing your desires, Mr. Gayden, engineer Sirco replies, and I regard your presumption as a very natural one. Observe, however, that we live here in a noble and superb independence, that we acknowledge the authority of no foreign power, that we are subject to no outside authority, that we are the colonists of no state, either of the old or new world. This is worth consideration by whose lover has a sense of pride and independence. Besides, what memories are evoked in a cultivated mind, by these grottos which seem to have been chiseled by the hands of the gods, and in which they were want to render their oracles by the mouth of Trifonius? Decisively, engineer Sirco is fond of studying mythology. Trifonius, after Pluto and Neptune, does he imagine that water Gayden ever heard of Trifonius? It is clear this mocker continues to mock, and I have to exercise the greatest patience in order not to reply in the same tone. A moment ago, I continue shortly, I wanted to enter Yon habitation, which, if I mistake not, is that of the Count Dartegas, but I was prevented. By whom, Mr. Gayden? By a man in the Count's employ. He probably had received strict orders about it. Possibly, yet whether he likes or not, Count Dartegas will have to see me and listen to me. Maybe it would be difficult, and even possible, to get him to do so, says engineer Sirco with a smile. Why so? Because there is no such person as Count Dartegas here. You are justing, I presume. I have just seen him. It was not the Count Dartegas whom you saw, Mr. Gayden. Who was it then, may I ask? The pirate, Cair Carrage. This name was thrown at me in a hard tone of voice, and engineer Sirco walked off before I had presence of mind enough to detain him. The pirate, Cair Carrage. Yes, this name is a revelation to me. I know it well, and what memories it evokes. It by itself explains what has hitherto been inexplicable to me. I now know into whose hands I have fallen. With what I already knew, with what I have learned since my arrival in back up with from engineer Sirco, this is what I am able to tell about the past and present of Cair Carrage. Eight or nine years ago, the West Pacific was infested by pirates, who acted with the greatest audacity. A band of criminals of various origins, composed of escaped convicts, military and naval deserters, etc., operated with incredible audacity under the orders of a redoubtable chief. The nucleus of the band had been formed by men pertaining to the scum of Europe, who had been attracted to New South Wales in Australia, by the discovery of gold there. Among these gold diggers were Captain Spain and engineer Sirco, two outcasts, whom a certain community of ideas and character soon bound together in close friendship. These intelligent, well-educated, resolute men would most assuredly have succeeded in any career, but being without conscience or scoopholes and determined to get rich at no matter what cost, deriving from gambling and speculation, what they might have earned by patient and study work, engage in all sorts of impossible adventures. One day they were rich, the next day poor, like most of the questionable individuals who were hurried to the gold fields in search of fortune. Among the diggers in New South Wales was a man of incomparable audacity, one of those men who stick at nothing, not even at crime, and whose influence upon bad and violent natures is irresistible. That man's name was Kare Karaj. The origin, or nationality, or antecedents of this pirate were never established by the investigations ordered in regard to him. He eluded all pursuit, and his name, or at least the name he gave himself, was known all over the world and inspired horror and terror everywhere, as being that of a legendary personage, a bogey, invisible and unceasable. I have no reason to believe that Kare Karaj is a malee, however, it is of little consequence after all. What is certain is that he was, with reason, regarded as a formidable and dangerous villain who had many crimes committed in distant seas to answer for. After spending a few years on the Australian gold fields, where he made the cointons of Medina Circa and Captain Spade, Kare Karaj managed to seize a ship in the port of Melbourne, in the province of Victoria. He was joined by 30 rascals whose number was speedily tripled. In that part of the Pacific Ocean, where piracy is still carried on with great facility, I may say profit, though number of ships pillaged, cruise, masquerade, and raids committed in certain western islands, which the colonists were unable to defend and cannot be estimated. Although the whereabouts of Kare Karaj's vessel, commanded by Captain Spade, was several times made known to the authorities, all attempts to capture it proved futile. The marauder, wither after robberies and murders that could not be prevented or punished, had been committed by her crew. One day this series of crimes came to an end, and no more was heard of Kare Karaj. Had he abandoned the Pacific for other seas, would this pirate break out in a fresh place? It was argued that notwithstanding what they must have spent in orgies in the bowtree, the pirate and his companions must still have an enormous amount of wealth hidden in some place, known only to themselves, and that they were enjoying their ill-gotten gains. Where had the band hidden themselves, since they had ceased their depredations? This was a question in which everybody, asked and none was able to answer. All attempts to run them to earth were vain. Terror and uneasiness, having ceased with the danger, Kare Karaj's exploits soon began to be forgotten, even in the West Pacific. This is what had happened, and will never be known unless I succeed in escaping from back cup. These breaches were, in a matter of fact, possessed of great wealth when they abandoned the southern seas. Having destroyed their ship, they dispersed in different directions, after having arranged to meet on the American continent. Engineer Circo, who was well versed in his profession, and was a clever mechanic to boot, and who had made a special study of submarine craft, proposed to Kare Karaj that they should construct one of these boats in order to continue their criminal exploits with greater secrecy and effectiveness. Kare Karaj at once saw the practical nature of the proposition, and as they had no lack of money, the idea was soon carried out. While the so-called Count Dartegas ordered the construction of the Sköner Eba at the shipyards of Götborg in Sweden, he gave to the cramps of Philadelphia in America the plans of a submarine boat whose construction excited no suspicion. Besides, as will be seen, it soon disappeared, and was never heard of again. The boat was constructed from a model, and under the personal supervision of Engineer Circo, and fitted with all the known appliances of nautical science. The Sköner Eba was worked with electric piles of recent invention, which imparted enormous repulsive power to the motor. It goes without saying that no one imagined that Count Dartegas was none other than Kare Karaj, the former pirate of the Pacific, and that Engineer Circo was the most formidable and resolute of his accomplices. The former was regarded as a foreigner of noble birth and great fortune, who for several months had been frequenting the ports of the United States, the Eba having been launched long before the tug was ready. Work upon the ladder occupied full 18 months, and when the boat was finished, it excited the admiration of all those interested in these engines of submarine navigation. By its external form, its interior arrangements, its air supply system, the rapidity which which it could be immersed, the facility with which it could be handled and controlled, and its extraordinary speed, it was conceded to be far superior to the goobay, the gymnote, the Z, and other similar boats, which had made great strides towards perfection. After several extremely successful experiments, a public test was given in the open sea, four miles off Charleston, in presence of several American and foreign warships, merchant vessels, and pleasure boats invited for the occasion. Of course the Eba was among them. With the Count Dartegas, Engineer Circo, and Captain Spade on board, and the old crew as well, save half a dozen men who manned the submarine machine, which was worked by in the Kingman's near, named Gibson, a bold and very clever Englishman. The program of this definite experiment comprised various evolutions on the surface of the water, which were to be followed by an immersion to last several hours, the boat being ordered not to rise again until a certain buoy stationed many miles out at sea had been attained. At the point of time, the wave was closed and the boat at first maneuvered on the surface. Her speed and the ease with which she turned and twisted were loudly praised by all the technical spectators. Then in a signal, given on board the Eba, the tug sank slowly out of sight, and several vessels started for the buoy where she was to reappear. Three hours went by, but there was no sign of the boat. No one could suppose that in accordance with instructions received from Dr. Tegos and Engineer Circo, this submarine machine, which was destined to act as the invisible tug of the schooner, would not emerge till it had gone several miles beyond the rendezvous. Therefore, with the exception of those who were in the secret, no one entertained any doubt that the boat and all inside her had perished as a result of an accident either in her metallic covering or machinery. On board the Eba, consternation was admirably simulated. On board the other vessels, it was real. Drags were used and divers sent down along the course. The boat was supposed to have taken, but it could not be found, and it was agreed that it had been swallowed up in the depths of the Atlantic. Two days later, the Count Dr. Tegos put to sea again, and in 48 hours came up with the tug at the place appointed. This is how Kerk Raj became possessed of the admirable vessel, which was to perform the double function of towing the schooner and attacking ships. With this terrible engine of destruction, whose very existence was ignored, the Count Dr. Tegos was able to recommend his career of piracy with security and impunity. These details I've learned from engineer Sherko, who is very proud of his handiwork, and also very positive that the prisoner of back up will never be allowed to disclose the secret. It will easily be realized how powerful was the offensive weapon Kerk Raj now possessed. During the night, the tug would rush at a merchant vessel and bore a hole in her with its powerful ram. At the same time, the schooner, which could not possibly have excited any suspicion, would run alongside and her horrid of cutthroats would pour onto the doomed vessel's deck and mask her to help us screw, after which they would hurriedly transfer that part of the cargo that was worth taking to the Eba. But it happened that ship after ship was added to the long list of those that never reached port and were classed to have gone down with all on board. For a year after the odious comedy in the Bay of Charleston, Kerk Raj operated in the Atlantic and his wealth increased to enormous proportions. The merchandise for which he had no use was disposed of in distant markets in exchange for gold and silver. But what was sadly needed was a place where the prophets could be safely hidden pending the time when they were to be finally divided. Chance came to their aid, exploring the bottom of the sea in the neighborhood of the Bermudas, engineer Circo and driver Gibson discovered at the base of that cup island, the tunnel which led to the interior of the mountain. Would it have been possible for Kerk Raj to have found a more admirable refuge than this, absolutely safe as it was from any possible chance of discovery? Thus it came to pass that one of the islands of the archipelago of Bermuda, erstwhile the haunt of buccaneers, became the lair of another gang a good deal more to be dreaded. This retreat, having been definitely adopted, Count D'Artigas and his companions set about getting their place in order. Engineer Circo installed electric powerhouse without having recourse to machines whose destruction abroad might have aroused suspicion, simply employing piles that could be easily mounted and required but metal plates and chemical substances that the Eba procured during her visits to the American coast. What happened on the night of the 19th? Inst can easily be divined, if the three masted merchantmen, which lay becalled was not visible at break of day, it was because she had been scuttled by the tug bordered by the cutthroat band on the Eba and sunk with all on board after being pillaged. The bales and things that I had seen in the schooner were part of her cargo and all unknown to me, the gallant ship was lying at the bottom of the broad Atlantic. How will this adventure end? Shall I ever be able to escape from back up? Denounce the false Count D'Artigas and rid the seas of Caracaraj's pirates? And if Caracaraj is as terrible as it is, how much more so will he become if he ever obtained possession of Rosh's full greater? His power will be increased a hundredfold. If he were able to employ this new engine of destruction, no merchantmen could resist him, no warship escaped total destruction, I remain for some time absorbed and oppressed by the reflections with which the revelation of Caracaraj's name inspires me. All that I have ever heard about this famous pirate recurs to me. His existence when he skimmed the southern seas, the useless expeditions organized by the maritime powers to hunt him down. The unaccountable loss of so many vessels in the Atlantic during the past few years is attributable to him. He had merely changed the scene of his exploits. It was supposed that he had been got rid of, whereas he is continuing his piratical practices in the most frequented ocean on the globe by means of the tug which is believed to be lying at the bottom of Charleston Bay. Now, I say to myself, I know his real name and that of his lair, Caracaraj, and back up, and I surmise that if Engineer Circo has let me into the secret he must have been authorized to do so. Am I not meant to understand from this that I must give up all hope of ever recovering my liberty? Engineer Circo had manifestly remarked the impression created upon me by this revelation. I remember that on leaving me he went towards Caracaraj's habitation, no doubt, with the intention of apprising him of what had passed. After a long walk around Lagoon, I am about to return to my cell when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn and find myself face to face with the Count D'Artigas, who is accompanied by Captain Spade. He glances at me sharply, and in a burst of irritation that I cannot suppress, I exclaim, you're keeping me here, sir, against all right. If it was to wait upon Thomas Roche that you carried me off from helpful house, I refused to attend him, and insist upon being sent back. The pirate chief makes a gesture, but does not reply. Then my temper gets the better of me altogether. Answer me, Count D'Artigas. Or rather, for I know who you are, answer me, Caracaraj. I shout. The Count D'Artigas is Caracaraj, he coolly replies. Just as Warder Gayden is engineer Simon Hart, and Caracaraj will never restore, through liberty, engineer Simon Hart, who knows his secrets. For more information or to volunteer, please visit livervox.org. The situation is plain. Caracaraj knows who I am. He knew who I was when he kidnapped Thomas Roche and his attendant. How did this man manage to find out what I was able to keep from the staff of helpful house? How comes it that he knew that a French engineer was performing the duties of attendant to Thomas Roche? I did not know how he discovered it, but the fact remains that he did. Evidently he had means of information which must have been costly, but from which he had derived considerable profit. Besides, men of his kidney do not count the cost when they wish to attain an end they have in view. Henceforward, Caracaraj, or rather, engineer Circo, will replace me as attended upon Thomas Roche. Will he succeed better than I did? God grant that he may not, that the civilized world may be spared such a misfortune. I did not reply to Caracaraj's Parthen shot, for I was stricken dumb. I did not, however, collapse, as the alleged Count de Artigas perhaps expected I would. No, I looked him straight in the eye which glittered angrily and crossed my arms defiantly as he had done, and yet he held my life in his hands. At a sign a bullet would have laid me dead at his feet. Then my body, cast into the lagoon, would have been borne out to sea through the tunnel, and there would have been the end of me. After this scene, I am left at liberty just as before. No measure is taken against me. I can walk among the pillars to the very end of the cavern, which, it is only too clear, possesses no other issues except the tunnel. When I return to my cell, at the extremity of the beehive, a prayer to a thousand thoughts suggested by my situation. I say to myself, if Caracaraj knows I am Simon Hart, the engineer, he must at any rate never know that I am aware of the position of Backcup Island. As to the plan of confiding Thomas Roche to my care, I do not think he ever seriously entertained it, seeing that my identity had been revealed to him. I regret this in so much as the inventor will indubitantly be the object of pressing solicitations, and as engineer Circo will employ every means in his power to attain the composition of the explosive and deflagrator, of which he will make such detestable use during further piratical exploits. Yes, I would have been far better if I could have remained Thomas Roche's keeper here as in healthful house. For fifteen days, I see nothing of my late charge. No one, I repeat, has placed any obstacles in the way of my daily peregrinations. I have no need to occupy myself about the material part of my existence. My meals are brought to me regularly, direct from the kitchen of Court de Artigas. I cannot accustom myself to calling him by any other name. The food leaves nothing to be desired thanks to the provisions that the Eva brings on her return from each voyage. It is very fortunate too that I have been supplied with all the writing materials I require. For during my long hours of idleness, I have been able to jot down in my notebook the slightest incidents that have occurred since I was abducted from helpful house, and to keep a diary day by day. As long as I am permitted to use a pen, I shall continue my notes. May have one day they will help to clear up the mysteries of back cup. From July 5th to July 25th. A fortnight has passed, and all my attempts to get near Thomas Roche have been frustrated. Orders have evidently been given to keep him away from my influence. Inefficious though, the latter has hitherto been. My only hope is that the Count de Artigas, Engineer Circo, and Captain Spade will waste their time trying to get at the inventor's secrets. Three or four times to my knowledge, at least, Thomas Roche and Engineer Circo have walked together around the lagoon. As far as I have been able to judge, the former listened with some attention to what the other was saying. Circo has conducted him over the whole cavern, showing him the electric powerhouse and the mechanism of the tug. Thomas Roche's mental condition has visibly improved since his departure from healthful house. Thomas Roche lives in a private room in Carragé's mansion. I have no doubt that he is daily sounded in regard to his discoveries, especially by Engineer Circo. Will he be able to resist the temptation if they offer him the exorbitant price that he demands? Has he any idea of the value of money? These wretches may dazzle him with the goal that they have accumulated by years of repine. In the present state of his mind, may he not be induced to disclose the composition of his fulgerator? They would then only have to fetch the necessary substances, and Thomas Roche would have plenty of time in backcup to devote to his chemical combinations. As the war engines themselves, nothing would be easier to have them made in sections in different parts of the American continent. My hair stands on end to think of what they could and would do with them if once they gain possession of them. These intolerable apprehensions no longer leave me in minutes' peace. They are wearing me out and my health is suffering in consequence. Although the air in the interior of backcup is pure, I become subject to attacks of suffocation and I feel as though my prison walls were falling upon me and crushing me under their weight. I am, besides, oppressed by the feeling that I am cut off from the world, as effectually as though I was no longer upon the planet, for I know nothing of what is going on outside. Ah, if it were only possible to escape through that submarine tunnel or through the hole in the dome and to slide to the base of the mountain. On the morning of the 25th, I at last encounter Thomas Roche. He is alone on the other side of the lagoon, and I wonder, in as much as I have not seen them since the previous day, whether Carcage, Engineer Circo, and Captain Spade have not gone off on some expedition. I walk round towards Thomas Roche and before he can see me I examine him intently. His serious, thoughtful physiognomy is no longer that of a madman. He walks slowly with his eyes bent on the ground and under his arm a drawing board upon which is stretched a sheet of paper covered with designs. Suddenly he raises his head, advances a step, and recognizes me. Ah, Gaiden, is that you? Is it? He cries. I have then escaped from you. I am free. He can indeed regard himself as being free, a good deal more at liberty and back up than he was in healthful house. But maybe my president evokes unpleasant memories and will bring on another fit for he continues with extraordinary animation. Yes, I know you, Gaiden. Do not approach me. Stand off. Stand off. You would like to get me back in your clenches. Encourse me again in your dungeon. Never. I have friends here who will protect me. They are powerful. They are rich. The Count D. R. T. Guess is my backer and engineer of Circo is my partner. We are going to exploit my invention. We are going to make my full greater. Hence, get you gone. Thomas Roche is in a perfect fury. He raises his voice, agitates his arm, and finally pulls from his pockets many rolls of dollar bills and banknotes and handfuls of English, French, American, and German gold coins which slip through his fingers and roll about the cavern. How could he get all this money except from Courgette as the price of the secret? The noise he makes attracts a number of men to the scene. They watch us for a moment, then sees Thomas Roche and drag him away. As soon as I am out of his sight, he ceases to struggle and becomes calm again. July 27th. Two hours after meeting with Thomas Roche, I went down to the lagoon and walked out to the edge of the stone jetty. The tug is not moored in its accustomed place, nor can I see it anywhere about the lake. Courgette, an engineer Circo, had not gone yesterday, as I suppose, for I saw them in the evening. Today, however, I have reason to believe that they really have gone in the tug with Captain Spade and the crew of the Eba, and that the latter must be sailing away. Have they set out on a piracy expedition? Very likely, it is equally likely that Courgette, become once more the Count Artigus, traveling for pleasure on board his yacht, intends to put it to some port on the American coast to procure the substances necessary for the preparation of Roche's fulgurator. Ah, if it had only been possible for me to hide in the tug to slip into the Eba's hold and stole myself away there until the schooner arrived in port, then, per chance, I might have escaped and delivered the world from this band of pirates. It will be seen how tenaciously I cling to the thought of escape, a fleeing, fleeing at any cost from this lair, but flight is impossible except through the tunnel by means of a submarine boat. Is it not folly to think of such a thing? Sheer folly, and yet what other way is there of getting out of back up? While I give myself up to these reflections, the water of the lagoon opens a few yards for me and the tug appears. The lid is raised and Gibson, the engineer, and the men issue onto the platform. Other men come up and catch the line that is thrown to them. They haul upon it and the tug is soon moored into its accustomed place. This time, therefore, at any rate, the schooner is not being towed and the tug merely went out to put Kerkarje and his companions aboard the Eba. This only confirms my impression that the sole object of their trip is to reach an American port where the Counten d'Artigas can procure the materials for making the explosive and order the machines in some foundry. On the day fixed for their return, the tug will go out through the tunnel again to meet the schooner and Kerkarje will return to back up. Decidedly, this evil doer is carrying out his designs and succeeded sooner than I thought would be possible. August 3. An incident occurred today of which the lagoon was the theater. A very curious incident that must be exceedingly rare. Towards three o'clock in the afternoon there was a prodigious bubbling in the water which ceased for a minute or two and then recommenced in the center of the lagoon. About fifteen pirates who attention had been attracted by this uncountable phenomenon hurried down to the bank manifesting signs of astonishment not unmingled with fear, at least I thought so. The agitation of the water was not caused by the tug as the ladder was lying alongside the jetty and the idea that some other submarine boat has found its way through the tunnel was highly improbable. Almost at the same instant, cries were heard on the opposite bank. The newcomers shouted something in a hoarse voice to the men on the side where I was standing and these immediately rushed off towards the beehive. I conjectured that they had caught sight of some sea monster that had found its way in and was flandering in the lagoon and they had rushed off to fetch arms and harpoons to try and capture it. I was right for they speedily returned with the ladder weapons and rifles loaded with explosive bullets. The monster in question was a whale of the species that is common enough in Bermudan waters which after swarming through the tunnel was plunging about in the narrow limits of the lake as it was constrained to take refuge in the back cup I concluded that it must have been hard pressed by whalers. Some minutes elapsed before the monster rose to the surface. Then the green shiny mass appeared spouting furiously and darting to and through as though fighting some formidable enemy. If it was driven in here by whalers I said to myself there must be a vessel in proximity to back cup. Per adventure within a stone's throw of it, her boats must have entered the western passes to the very foot of the mountain and to think I am unable to communicate with them. But even if I could I failed to see how I could go to them through these massive walls. I soon found however that it was not fishers but sharks that had driven the whale through the tunnel and which infest these waters in great numbers. I could see them plainly as they darted about turning upon their backs and displaying their enormous mouths which were bristling with their cruel teeth. There were five or six of the monsters and they attacked the whale with great viciousness. The latter's only means of defense was its tail with which it lashed at them with terrific force and rapidity. But the whale had received several wounds and the water was tinged with its lifeblood. For plunge and lashes it would it cannot escape the bites of its enemies. However the voracious sharks were not permitted to vanquish their prey. For man far more powerful with his instruments of death was about to take a hand and snatch it from them. Gaffered around the lagoon were the companions of Kercargete. Every wit as ferocious as the sharks themselves and well deserving the same name for what else are they. Standing amid a group at the extremity of the jetty and armed with a harpoon was the big melee who had prevented me from entering Kercargete's house. When the whale got within shot he hurled the harpoon with great force and skill and sank into the Leviathan's flesh just under the left fin. The whale plunged immediately followed by the relentless sharks. The rope attached to the weapon ran out for about 60 yards and then slackened. The men at once began to haul on it and the monster rose to the surface again near the end of the tunnel struggling desperately in its death agony and spurting great columns of water tinged with blood. One blow of its tail struck a shark and hurled it clean out of the water against the rocky side where it dropped in again, badly if not fatally injured. The harpoon was torn from the flesh by the jerk and the whale went under. It came up again for the last time and lashed the water so that it washed up from the tunnel end disclosing the top of the orifice. Then the sharks again rushed on their prey but they were scared off by a hail of explosive bullets. Two men jumped into a boat and attached a line to the dead monster. The ladder was hauled into the jetty and the melee started to cut it up with an dexterity that showed there were no novices at the work. No more sharks were to be seen but I concluded that it would be as well to refrain from taking a bath in a lagoon for some days to come. I know now exactly where the entrance to the tunnel is situated. The orifice on this side is only 10 feet below the edge of the western bank. But of what uses this knowledge to me? August 7th. 12 days have elapsed since the Count D. Artigas, engineer Circo and Captain Spade put to sea. There is nothing to indicate that their return is expected, though the tug is always kept in readiness for immediate departure by Gibson, the engine driver. If the epa is not afraid to enter the ports of the United States by day, I rather fancy she would prefer to enter the rocky channel of that cut and nightfall. I also fancy somehow that Kerkarazin and his companions will return tonight. August 10th. At 10 o'clock last night, as I anticipated, the tug went under and out, just in time to meet Eba and tow her through the channel to her creek, after which she returned with Kerkarazin and the others. When I look out this morning, I see Thomas Roche, an engineer Circo, walking down to the lagoon and talking. What they are talking about, I can guess easily. I go forward and take a good look at my ex-patient. He is asking questions of engineer Circo with great animation. His eyes gleam, his face is flushed, and he is all eerness to reach the jetty. Engineer Circo can hardly keep up with him. The crew of the tug are unloading her, and they have just brought ashore 10 medium-sized boxes. The boxes bear a peculiar red mark, which Thomas Roche examines closely. Engineer Circo orders the men to transport them to the storehouses on the left bank, and the boxes are forthwith loaded on a boat and rode over. My opinion, these boxes contain the substances by the combination or mixture of which the full-grader and the flag-grader are to be made. The engines, doubtless, are being made in American foundry, and when they are ready, the schooner will fetch them and bring them to back-cut. For once in a while, however, the Eba has not returned with any stolen merchandise. She went out and has returned with a clear bill. But with what terrible power Carger will be armed for both offensive and defensive operations at sea? If Thomas Roche is to be credited, the full-grader could shadow the terrestrial spheroid at one blow, and who knows, but what one day he will try the experiment. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Facing the Flag This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Facing the Flag by Jules Verne Translated by Cashel Hoey Chapter 12. Engineer Circo's Advice Thomas Roche has started work and spends hours and hours in a wooden shed on the left bank of the lagoon that has been set apart as his laboratory and workshop. No one enters it except himself. Does he insist upon preparing the explosive in secret, and does he intend to keep the formula thereof to himself? I should not wonder. The manner of employing Roche's full-grader is, I believe, very simple indeed. The projectile in which it is used requires neither gun nor mortar to launch it, nor pneumatic tube like that of the Zelensky shell. It is autopropulsive, it projects itself, and no ship within a certain zone when the engine explodes should escape utter destruction. With such a weapon as this at his command, Carger would be invincible. From August 11 to August 17. During the past week, Thomas Roche has been working without intermission. Every morning the inventor goes into his laboratory and does not issue therefrom till night. I have made no attempt to stop him or speak to him, knowing that it would be useless to do so. Although he is still indifferent to everything that does not touch upon his work, he appears to be perfectly self-possessed. Why should he not have recovered his reason? Has he not obtained what he has so long sought for? Is he not at last able to carry out the plans he formed years and years ago? August 18. At one o'clock this morning I was roused by several detonations. His back cup that attacked was my first thought. Has the schooner excited suspicion and been chased to the entrance to the passes? Is the island being bombarded with a view to its destruction? Has justice as last overtaken these evil doers? Air Thomas Roche has been able to complete the manufacture of his explosive, and before the auto-propulsive engine could be fetched from the continent? The detonations, which are very violent, continue, succeeding each other at regular intervals, and it occurs to me that if the schooner has been destroyed, all communication with the bases of supply being impossible, back cup cannot be provisioned. It is true the tug would be able to land the Count D'Artigus somewhere on the American coast, where, money being no object, he could easily buy or order another vessel. But no matter. If that cup is only destroyed before Carcage has Roche's Fulgrator at his disposal, I shall render thanks to heaven. A few hours later, at the usual time, I quit my cell. All is quiet at the beehive. The men are going about their business as usual. The tug is more near the jetty. Thomas Roche is going to his laboratory, and Carcage and Engineer Circo are tranquilly pacing backwards and forwards by the lake and chatting. The island, therefore, could not have been attacked during the night, yet I was awakened by the report of a cannon. This, I will swear. At this moment, Carcage goes off towards his abode, and Engineer Circo, smilingly, ironical, as usual, advances to meet me. Well, Mr. Simon Hart, he says, are you getting accustomed to your tranquil existence? Do you appreciate, at their just merit, the advantages of this enchanted grotto? Have you given up all hope of recovering your liberty someday or other? What is the use of waxing your off to this jester? I reply calmly. No, sir. I have not given up hope, and I still expect that I shall be released. What? Mr. Hart, separate ourselves from a man who we all esteem, and I from a colleague who, perhaps, in the course of Thomas Roche's fits of delirium, has learned some of his secrets, you are not serious. So this is why they are keeping me a prisoner in back-cut. They suppose that I am in part familiar with Roche's invention, and they hope to force me to tell what I know if Thomas Roche refuses to give up his secret. This is the reason why I was kidnapped with him, and why I have not been accommodated with an involuntary plunge in the lagoon with a stone fasten to my neck. I see it all now, and it is just as well to know it. Very serious, I affirm, in response to the last remark of my interlocutor. Well, he continues, if I had the honor to be Simon Hart, the engineer, I should reason as follows. Given on the one hand the personality of Carcarajay, the reasons which incited him to select such a mysterious retreat as his cavern, the necessity of the said cavern being kept from any attempt to discover it, not only in the interest of Count D'Artigas, but in that of his companions, of his accomplices, if you please, of his accomplices, then, on the other hand, given the fact that I know the real name of the Count D'Artigas, and in what mysterious state he keeps his riches, riches stolen and stained with blood, Mr. Circo, riches stolen and stained with blood, if you like, I ought to understand this question of liberty cannot be settled in accordance with my desires. It is useless to argue the point under these conditions, and I switch the conversation on to another line. May I ask I continue how you came to find out that Gaiden, the water, was Simon Hart, the engineer? I see no reason for keeping you in ignorance on the subject, my dear colleague. It was largely by hazard. We had a certain relations with the manufacturing in New Jersey, with which you were connected, and which acquitted suddenly one day under somewhat singular circumstances. Well, during a visit I made to Helpful House, some months before the Count D'Artigas went there, I saw and recognized you, you, my very self, and from that moment I promised myself the pleasure of having you for a fellow passenger on board the EBA. I do not recall ever having seen this Circo at Helpful House, but what he says is very likely true. I hope your whim of having me for a companion will cost you dear, some day or other, I say to myself. Then abruptly I go on. If I am not mistaken, you have succeeded in inducing Thomas Roche to disclose the secret of his full grader. Yes, Mr. Hart, we have paid millions for it, but millions, you know, are nothing to us. We have only the trouble of taking them. Therefore, we have filled all his pockets, covered him with millions. Of what use are these millions to him if he is not allowed to enjoy them outside? That, Mr. Hart, is a matter that does not trouble him a little bit. This man of genius thinks nothing of the future. He lives but in the present, while engines are being constructed from his plans over yonder in America. He is preparing his explosive with chemical substances with which he has been abundantly supplied. He wouldn't invention it is this auto propulsive engine which flies through the air of its own power and accelerates its speed till the goal is reached. Thanks to the properties of a certain powder of progressive combustion, here we have an invention that will bring about a radical change in the art of war. Defensive war, Mr. Circo. And offensive war, Mr. Hart. Naturally, I answer. Then pumping him still more closely, I go on. So, what no one else has been able to obtain from Thomas Roche, we obtained without much difficulty, by paying him, by paying him an incredible price, and, moreover, by causing to vibrate what in him is a very sensitive cord. What cord? That of vengeance. Vengeance? Against whom? Against all those who have made himself his enemies by discouraging him, by spurting him, expelling him, by constraining him to go of begging from country to country with an invention of incontestable superiority. Now, all notion of patriotism is extinct in his soul. He is now but one thought, one ferocious desire, to avenge himself upon those who have denied him, and even upon all mankind. Really, Mr. Hart, your governments of Europe and America committed a stupendous blunder in refusing to pay Roche the price his full greater is worth. An engineer, Circo, describes enthusiastically the various advantage of the new explosive, which, he says, is incontestably superior to any yet invented. And what a destructive effect it has, he adds. It is analogous to that of the Zalinsky shell, but is a hundred times more powerful, and requires no machine for firing it as it flies to the air on its own wings, so to speak. I listen in the hope that engineer Circo will give away parts of the secret, but in vain, he is careful not to say more than he wants to. Has Thomas Roche, I ask, made you acquainted with the composition of his explosive? Yes, Mr. Hart, if it is all the same to you, and we shall shortly have considerable quantities of it stored in a safe place. But will there not be a great and ever-impending danger in accumulating large quantities of it? If an accident were to happen, it would all be up with the island of, once more, the name of that cup was on the point of escaping me. They might consider me too well informed. If they were aware that in addition to being acquainted with the Count De Artigas's real name, I also knew where a stronghold is situated. Luckily, engineer Circo has not remarked my reticence, and he replies, There will be no cause for alarm. Thomas Roche's explosive will not burn unless subjected to a special deflagrator. Neither fire nor shock will explode it. And has Thomas Roche also sold you the secret of his deflagrator? Not yet, Mr. Hart, but it will not be long before the bargain is concluded. Therefore, I repeat, no danger is to be apprehended, and you need not keep awake of nights on that account. A thousand devils, sir. We have no desires to be blown up with our cabin and treasures. A few more years of good business, and we shall divide the profits, which will be large enough to enable each one of us to live as he thinks proper, and enjoy life to the top of his bent, after the disillusion of the firm of Carcage and Company. I may add that though there is no danger of an explosion, we have everything to fear from a denunciation, which you are in the position to make, Mr. Hart. Therefore, if you take my advice, you will, like a sensible man, resign yourself to the inevitable, and do the disbanding of the company. We shall then see what in the interest of our security is best to be done with you. It will be admitted that those words are not exactly calculated to reassure me. However, a lot of these things may happen ere then. I have learned one good thing from this conversation, and that is that if Thomas Roche has sold his explosive to Carcage and Company, he has at any rate kept the secret of his deflagrator, without which his explosive is no more of that value than the dust of the highway. But before terminating the interview, I think I ought to make a natural observation to Mr. Serco. Sir, I say, you are now acquainted with the composition of Thomas Roche's explosive. Does it really possess the destructive power that the inventor attributes to it? Has it ever been tried? May you not have purchased the composition as a pinch of snuff? You are doubtless better informed upon this point than you pretend, Mr. Hart. Nevertheless, I thank you for your interest you manifest in our affairs, and am able to reassure you. The other night, we made a series of decisive experiments, with only a few grains of his substance, great blocks of rock, were reduced to impalable dust. This explanation evidently applies to the detonation I heard. Thus, my dear colleague, continues engineer Serco, I can assure you that our expectations have been answered. The effects of the explosion surpass anything that could have been imagined. A few thousand tons of it would burst our spheroid and scatter the fragments in the space. You can be absolutely certain that it is capable of destroying no matter what vessel at a distance considerably greater than that attained by present projectiles, and within a zone of at least a mile. The weak point in the invention is that rather too much time has been expended in regulating the firing. Engineer Serco stops short, as though reluctant to give any further information, but finally adds. Therefore, I end as I begin, Mr. Hart. Reserve yourself to the inevitable. Accept your new existence without reserve. Give yourself up to the tranquil delights of this subterranean life. If one is in good health, one preserves it. If one has lost one's health, one recovers it here. That is what is happening to your fellow countrymen. Yes, the best thing you can do is to resign yourself to your lot. Thereupon this giver of good advice leaves me, after saluting me with a friendly gesture, like a man whose good intentions marry appreciation. But what irony there is in his words, in his glance, in his attitude? Shall I ever be able to get even with him? I know now that at any rate it is not easy to regulate the aim of Russia's auto-propulsive engine. It is probable that it always bursts at the same distance, and that beyond the zone in which the effects of the full greater are so terrible, that once it has been passed, a ship is safe from its effects. If only I could inform the world of this vital fact. August 20th. For two days no incidents worth recording have occurred. I have explored Backe Cup to its extreme limits. At night, when the long perspective of arched columns are illuminated by the electric lamps, I am almost religiously impressed when I gaze upon the natural wonders of this cavern, which have become my prison. I have never given up hope of finding somewhere in the walls a fissure of some kind, of which the pirates are ignoring, and through which I can make my escape. It is true that once outside, I should have to wait till the passing ship hoved in sight. My evasion would speedily be none at the behind, and I should soon be recaptured, unless a happy thought strikes me, unless I could get at the Ebba's boat that was drawn up high and dry on the little sandy beach in a creek. In this, I might be able to make my way to St. George or Hamilton. This evening, it was about nine o'clock, I stretched myself on a bed of sand at the foot of one of the columns, about one hundred yards to the east of the lagoon. Shortly afterwards, I heard footsteps, then voices, hiding myself as best as I could behind the rocky base of the pillar. I listened with all my ears. I recognized the voices of those of Kirkage and Engineer Circo. Two men stopped close to where I was lying, and continued their conversation in English, which is that language generally used in backcup. I was therefore able to understand all that was said. They were talking about Thomas Roche, or rather his fulgurator. In a week's time, said Kirkage, I shall put to sea in the Ebba, and fetch the sections of the engine that are being cast in that Virginia foundry. And when they are here, observed Engineer Circo, I will piece them together and fix up the fence for firing them. But beforehand, there is a job to be done, which it seems to me is indispensable. What is that? Is it cut a tunnel through the wall of the cavern? Through the wall of the cavern? Oh, nothing but a narrow passage, through which only one man at a time could squeeze a whole easy enough to block, and the outside end would be hidden among the rocks. Of what use would it be to us, Circo? I have often thought about the utility of having some other way of getting out besides the submarine title. We never know what the future may have in store for us. But the walls are so thick and hard, objected Kirkage. Oh, with a few grains of Roche's explosive, I undertake to reduce the rock to such fine powder that we should be able to blow it away with our breath. Circo replied. It can easily be imagined with what interest in either going to time listen to this. Here was a ray of hope. It was proposed to open up communication with the outside by a tunnel in the wall, and this held out the possibility of escape. This thought flashed through my mind. Kirkage said, Very well, Circo, and if it becomes necessary someday to defend that cup and prevent any ship from approaching it, it is true he went on without finishing the reflection. Our retreat would have had to have been described by accident, or by denunciation. We have nothing to fear either from accident or denunciation, or from Circo. By one of our band, no, of course not, but by Simon Hart, perhaps. Hart exclaimed, Circo. He would have to escape first, and no one can escape from that cup. I am, by the by, interested in his heart. He is a colleague, after all, and I have always suspected that he knows more about Roche's invention than he pretends. I will get round him so that we shall soon be discussing physics, mechanics, and matters ballistic like a couple of friends. No matter, replied the generous and sensible Count D'Artigas, when we are in full possession of the secret, we had better get rid of the fellow. We have plenty of time to do that, Kirkage. If God permits us to, he wretches, I murder to myself, while my heart thumped against my ribs. And yet, without the intervention of Providence, what hope is there for me? The conversation then took another direction. Now, we must know the composition of the explosive Circo, said Kirkage. We must, at all cost, get that of the defibrator from Thomas Roche. Yes, replied Engineer Circo, that is what I am trying to do. Unfortunately, however, Roche positively refuses to discuss it. Still, he has already made a few drops of it with which these experiments were made, and he will furnish us with some more to blow a hole through the wall. What about our expeditions at sea? queried Kirkage. Patience, we shall end by getting Roche's thunderbolts entirely in our own hand, and then, I assure Mr. Circo, quite sure, by paying the price, Kirkage. The conversation dropped at this point, and they strolled off without having seen me. Very lucky for me, I guess. If Engineer Circo spoke up somewhat in defense of a colleague, Kirkage is apparently animated with much less benevolent sentiments in regard to me. On the least suspicion, they would throw me into the lake, and if I ever got through the tunnel, it would only be as a corpse carried out by the ebbing tide. August 21st. Engineer Circo has been prospecting with a view to piercing their proposed passage through the wall, in such a way that its existence will never be dreamed of outside. After a minute of examination, he decided to tunnel through the northern end of the cavern, about sixty feet from the first cells of the beehive. I am anxious for the passage to be made, for who knows but what it may be the way to freedom for me. Off I only knew how to swim. Perhaps I should have attempted to escape through the submarine tunnel, and since it was disclosed by the lashing rack of the waters, by the whale, and its death struggle, I knew exactly where the orifice situated. It seems to me that at the time of the Great Tides, this orifice must be partly uncovered. The full and new moon, when the sea attains its maximum depression below the normal level, it is possible that I must satisfy myself about this. I do not know how the fact will help me in any way. Even if the entrance to the tunnel is partly uncovered, I cannot afford to miss any detail that may possibly aid my escape from back up. August 29th. This morning I am witnessing the departure of the tug. The Count D.R.T.S. is, no doubt, going off in the ebb to fetch the sections of Thomas Rocha's engines. Before embarking, the Count converses long and earnestly with Ed Heiner's circle, who apparently is not going to accompany him on this trip, and is evidently giving him some recommendations, of which I may be the object. Then, having stepped onto the platform, he goes below, the lid shuts with a bang, and the tug sinks out of sight, leaving a trail of bubbles behind it. The hours go by, night is coming on, yet the tug does not return. I conclude that it has gone to Toliscooner, and perhaps to destroy any merchant vessels that may come in their way. It cannot, however, be absent very long as the trip to America and back will not take more than a week. Besides, if I can judge from the calm atmosphere in the interior of the cabin, the ebb must be favored with beautiful weather. This is, in fact, the fine season in this part of the world. Ah, if only I could break out of my prison. CHAPTER XIII OF FACING THE FLAG This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. FACING THE FLAG by Jules Verne. Translated by Cashel Hoey. CHAPTER XIII GOD BE WITH IT From August 29th to September 10th, 13 days have gone by, and the ebb has not returned. Did she not make straight for the American coast? Has she been delayed by a Buccaneering cruise in the neighborhood of Baccacup? It seems to me that Carcage's only desire would be to get back with the sections of Roche's engineers as soon as possible. Maybe the Virginian foundry had not quite finished them. Engineer Circo does not display the least anxiety or impatience. He continues to greet me with his accustomed, ironic cordiality, and with the kindly air that I distrust with good reason. He affects to be solicitous as to my health, urges me to make the best of a bad job, calls me Alibaba, assures me that there is not in the whole world such an enchanting spot as this Arabian knight's cavern, observes that I am fed, warm, lodged, and clothed, that I have no taxes to pay, and that even the inhabitants of the favorite principality of Monaco do not enjoy an existence more free from care. Sometimes this ironical verbiage brings the blood to my face, and I am tempted to seize this cynical banterer by the throat and choke the life out of him. They would kill me afterwards. Still, what would that matter? Would it not be better to end it this way than to spend years and years amid these infernal and infamous surroundings? However, while there is life, there is hope, I reflect, and this thought restrains me. I have scarcely set eyes on Thomas Groesch since the Eba went away. He shuts himself up in his laboratory and works unceasingly. If he utilizes all the substances placed at his disposition, there will be enough to blow up backcup and the whole Bermudian archipelago with it. I cling to the hope that he will never consent to give up the secret of his deflagrator, and that Engineer Circo's efforts to acquire it will remain futile. September 3rd. Today I have been able to witness with my own eyes the power of Rocha's explosives and also the manner in which the full grater is employed. During the morning, the men begin to pierce the passages through the wall of the cavern at the spot fixed by Engineer Circo, who superintended the work in person. The work began at the base, where the rock is hard as granite. To have continued it with pickaxes would have entailed long and arduous labors, and as much as the wall at this place is not less than from 20 to 30 yards in thickness, but thanks to Rocha's full grater, the passage will be completed easily and rapidly. I may well be astonished at what I have seen. The pickaxes hardly make any impression on the rock, but its disaggregation was affected with really remarkable facility by means of the full grater. A few grains of this explosive shattered the rock mass and reduced it to almost impalable powder that once breath could disperse the ZZ's vapor. The explosion produced an excavation measuring fully a cubic yard. It was accompanied by a sharp detonation that may be compared to the report of a cannon. The first charge used, although a very small one, a mere pinch, blew the men in every direction, and two of them were seriously injured. Engineer Circo himself was projected several yards and sustained some rather severe constitutions. Here is how this substance, whose bursting force surpasses anything hitherto conceived, is employed. A small hole about an inch and a half in length is pierced obliquely into the rock. A few grains of the explosives are then inserted, but no water is used. Then Thomas Roche steps forward. In his hand, a little glass vial containing a bluish oily liquid that congeals almost as soon as it comes in contact with the air. He pours one drop on the entrance of the hole and draws back, but not without undue haste. It takes a certain time, about thirty-five seconds, I reckon, before the combination of the full grater and the deflibrator is affected. When the explosion does take place, its power of desegregation is such, I repeat, that it may be regarded as unlimited. It is, at any rate, a thousand times superior to that of any known explosive. Under these circumstances, it will probably not take more than a week to complete the catetal. September 19th. For some time, I have observed that the tide rises and falls twice every 24 hours, and that the evident flow produces a rather swift current through the submarine tunnel. It is pretty certain, therefore, that a floating object thrown into the lagoon when the top of the orifice is uncovered will be carried out by the receding tide. It is just possible that during the lowest equinoctial tides, the top of the orifice is uncovered. This I shall be able to ascertain, as this is precisely the time that occurred. Today, September 19th, I could almost extinguish the summit of the hole under the water, the day after tomorrow, if ever, it will be uncovered. Very well then, if I cannot myself attempt to get through, maybe a bottle thrown through the lagoon might be carried out during the last few minutes of the ed, and might not be bottled by chance, an ultra providential chance, I must avow. Be picked up by a ship passing your back cup? Perhaps it might even be borne away by a friendly current, and cast upon the Bermudan beaches. What if that bottle contained a letter? I cannot get this thought out of my mind, and it works me into a great state of excitement. Then objections crop up, this one, among others. The bottle might be swept against the rocks and smashed, or ever it could get out of the tunnel. Very true, but what if instead of a bottle, a diminutive, tightly closed keg were used, it would not run any danger of being smashed, and would besides stand a much better chance of reaching the open sea? September 20th, this evening, I, unperceived, entered one of the storehouses containing the booty pillaged from various ships, and produced a keg very suitable for my experiment. I hid the keg under my coat, and returned to the beehive and my cell. Then, without losing an instant, I set to work. Paper, pen, ink, nothing was waiting, as will be supposed from the fact that for three months, I had been making notes and dotting down my impressions daily. I indict the following message. On June 15th, last Thomas Groesch and his keeper, Gaiden, or rather Simon Hart, French engineer who occupied Pavilion number 17, at Healthful House near Newburn, North Carolina, United States of America, were kidnapped and carried on board the schooner Eba, belonging to the Count D'Artigas. Both are now confined in the interior of a cavern, which serves as a lair for the Count D'Artigas, who is really carcassier, the pirate who sometime ago carried on his depotations in the West Pacific, and for about a hundred men of which his band is composed. When he is obtained possession of Roche's full grader, whose power is, so to speak, without limit, per carjane will be in a position to carry on his crimes with complete impunity. It is therefore urgent that the state's interests should destroy his lair without delay. The cavern in which the pirate per carjane has taken refuge in is in the interior of the islet of Batcup, which is wrongly regarded as an active volcano. It is situated at the western extremity of the Archipelago of Formida, and on the east is founded by a range of reefs, but on the north, south, and west is open. Communication with the inside of the mountain is only possible through a tunnel a few yards underwater and a narrow pass on the west. The submarine apparatus therefore is necessary to affect an entrance, at any rate, until a tunnel there boring through the northwestern wall of the cavern is completed. The pirate per carjane employs an apparatus of this kind, submarine boat that Count de Artegas ordered from the cramps, which was supposed to have been lost during the Republic experiment with it in Charleston Bay. This boat is used not only for the purpose of entering and issuing from Batcup, but also to tow the scooter and attack merchant vessels in polluted waters. The scooter Eba, so well known on the American coast, is kept in a small creek on the western side of the island behind a mass of rocks and is invisible from the sea. The best place to land is on the west coast, formerly occupied by the colony of Bermuda fishers, but it would first be advisable to effect a breach in the side of the cavern by means of the most powerful millenine shells. The fact that per carjane may be in position to use roaches full greater for the defense of the island must also be taken into account. Let it be well borne in mind that if its destructive power surpasses anything ever conceived or dreamed of, it extends over the zone, not exceeding a mile in extent. The distance of this dangerous zone is variable. Once the engines have been set, the modifications of this distance occupy some time and a worship that succeeds in passing the zone has nothing further to fear. This document is written on the 20th day of September at eight o'clock in the evening and assigned my name, Thomas Hart, engineer. The above is the text of the statement I have just drawn up. It says, all that is necessary about the island, whose exact situation is marked on all modern charts and maps, and points out the expediency of acting without delay and what to do in case carjane is in the position to employ roaches full greater. I add a plan of the cavern showing its internal figuration, the situation of the lagoon, the lay of the beehive, carcarage's habitation, my cell, and tom's brooches laboratory. I wrap the document in a piece of tarpulin and insert the package in the little keg, which measures six inches by three and a half. It is perfectly watertight and will stay on any amount of knocking about against the rocks. There's one danger, however, and that is that it may be swept back by the returning tide cast on the island and fall into the hands of the crew of Eba when the screeners hauled into her creek. If carjane ever gets hold of it, it will be all up with me. I will be readily conceived with the anxiety I have awaited the moments make the attempt. I am a perfect feather of excitement for it is a matter of life and death to me. I calculate from previous observations that the tide will be very low at about a quarter to nine. The top of the tunnel ought then to be a foot and a half above the water, which is more than enough to permit of the keg passing through it. It will be another half an hour at least before the flow sets in again and by that time the keg may be far enough away to escape being thrown back on the coast. I peer out of my cell. There is no one about and I advance to the side of the lagoon, whereby the light of a nearby lamp I perceive the arch of the tunnel towards which the current seems to be setting pretty swiftly. I go down to the very edge and cast in the keg which contains the precious document and all my hopes. God be with it, I fervently exclaim, God be with it. For a minute or two the little barrel remains stationary and then floats back to the side again. I throw it once more with all my strength. This time it is in the track of the current, which to my great joy sweeps it along and in twenty seconds it has disappeared into the tunnel. Yes, God be with it. May heaven guide thee, little barrel. May I protect all those who occur cars and menaces and grants that this band of pirates may not escape from the justice of men. End of chapter thirteen. Chapter fourteen of Facing the Flag. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Facing the Flag by Jules Verne. Translated by Keshel Hoey. Chapter fourteen. Battle between the sword and the tug. Through all this sleepless 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 creek or some excavation. I am in a cold perspiration 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 the entrance and then through the tunnel into the lagoon, I must be on the lookout for it. I rise before the sun and saunter down to the lagoon. Not a single object is floating on the calm surface. The work on the tunnel through the side of the cavern goes on and at four o'clock in the afternoon on September 23rd, engineer Circo blows away the last rock obstructing 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 exterior orifice is lost among the crannies of the rocky coast and it would be easy to obstruct it if such a measure became necessary. It goes without saying that the passage will be strictly guarded. No one without special authorization will be able to either go out or come in. Therefore there is little hope of escape in that direction. September 25th. This morning the tug rose from the depth of the lagoon to the surface and is now run alongside the jetty. The county 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 EBA, among which are several packages destined for Thomas Roche. The men also land the various sections of Roche's engine, which are discoyed in shape. The inventor watches their operations and his eyes glisten with eagerness. He seizes one of the sections, examines it, and nods approval. I notice that his joy no longer finds expression in incoherent utterances that he is completely transformed from what he had been 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 incurable, has not been radically cured. At last, Thomas Roche embarks in the boat used for crossing the lake and his road over to his laboratory. Engineer Circo accompanies him. In an hour's time, the tug's cargo has all been taken out and transported to the storehouses. Carcarje exchanges a word or two with the engineer Circo and then enters his mansion. 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 follow them, I if I could but breathe for a while the bracing air of the Atlantic, of which the interior of Bat Cup only received attenuated pus, so to speak. From September 26th to October 10th, 15 days have elapsed. Under the directions of Engineer Circo and Thomas Roche, the sections of the engines have been fitted together. Then the construction of their supports has begun. These supports are simple trestles, fitted with transverse troughs or grooves of various degrees of inclination, in which could be easily installed on the deck of the eba or even on the platform of the tug, which can be kept on a level with the surface. Thus, Carcarje will be ruler of the seas with his yacht. No warship, however big, however powerful, will be able to cross the zone of danger or as the eba will be out of range of its guns. If only my notice were found, if only the existence of this layer of Bat Cup were known, means would soon be found if not of destroying the place, at least of starving the band into submission. October 20th. 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. I view of the fact that the outside can now be reached through the new tunnel, and that Thomas Roche has everything he requires. I can only conclude that a tug has gone off on another marattering expedition. Yet this is the section of the equinautical gales, and the Bermudian waters are swept by frequent tempests. This is evident from the violent gusts that drive back the smoke through the crater and the heavy rain that accompanies it. As well as by the water on the lagoon, which swells and washes over the brown rocks on its shore. But it is by no means sure that the eba has quitted her cove. 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 schooner. I do not know to what its departure can be attributed, but its absence is likely to be prolonged for it is not yet returned. Engineer Circa has remained behind, but Kirk Harajay, 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, meditating, 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 killing time by riding my diary, which will probably not survive me. Thomas Roche 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 perfectly aware that he will not hesitate to place his invention at Kirk Harajay's service. I often meet Engineer Circa when my stools 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 frivolity. We converse upon all sorts of subjects, but rarely on my position. Recrimination therein is useless, and only subjects mean to renewed bantering. October 22nd. Today, I asked Engineer Circa whether the Eva had put to sea again with the tug. Yes, Mr. Simon Hard, he replied, and though the clouds gather and loud the tempest roars, be it in no uneasiness in our regard to our dear Eva. Will she be gone long? I expect her back within 48 hours. It is the last voyage Count D'Artecas proposes to make before the winter gale rendered navigation in these parts impractical. It is her voyage you want a business or pleasure. A business, Mr. Hard of Business, answers Engineer Circa with a smile. Our engines are now completed, and when the fine rudder returns, we shall resume offensive operations against unfortunate merchantmen. As unfortunate as they are richly laden, acts of piracy whose impunity 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 radius of the island. Providing, I said, that Thomas Roche has sold you the composition of his deflagrator, as he has sold you that of his Fulgrator. That he has done, Mr. Hard, and it behooves me to set your mind at rest upon that point. From this categorical response, I also have concluded that the most fortune has been consummated, but a certain hesitation and the intonation of his voice warned me that implicit reliance was not to be placed upon Engineer Circa's assertions. October 25th. What a frightful adventure I have just been mixed up in, and what a wonder that 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 48 hours. With a little luck, I should have been delivered. I should now be in one of the Bermudan ports, St. George or Hamilton. Mysteries at Back Cup would have been cleared up. The description of the screener would have been wired all over the world, and she would not dare put into any port. The provisioning of Back Cup would be impossible, and Circa's bandits would be condemned to starve to death. This is what occurred. At 8 o'clock in the evening, on October the 23rd, I quitted my cell in an indefinable state of nervousness, and with a pre-sensiment that a serious event was imminent. In vain, I had tried to take calmness and 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 agitated the waters of the lagoon. I walked along the shore of the beehive side. No one was about. It was rather cold, and the air was damp. The pirates were all snugly 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 of light, one on each side of the lake, and the forest of pillars was wrapped in the profoundest obscurity. I was walking about in shadow when someone passed me. I saw that he was Tarnished Roche. 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 Kerkharje the pirate. He cannot be aware that he has given up a part of his invention to such a bandit. I must open his eyes to the fact that he will never be able to enjoy his millions, that he is a prisoner in Back Cup, and he will never be allowed to leave it any more than I shall. Yes, I shall make an appeal to his sentiments of humanity, and point out to him what frightfulness fortunes he will be responsible for if he does not keep the secret of his deflagrator. All this I had said to myself, and was preparing to carry out my resolution, when suddenly I felt myself seized from behind. Two men held me by my arms and another appeared in front of me. Before I had time to cry out, the man exclaimed in English, Hush, not a word. Are you not Simon Hart? Yes, how do you know? I saw you come out of your cell. Who are you then? Lieutenant Davin of the British Navy of HMS Standard, which is stationed at the Bermudas. The motion choked me so that it was impossible for me to utter a word. We have come to rescue you from Kerkharje, and also proposed to carry out Thomas Roche, he added. Thomas Roche, I stammered. Yes, the document signed by you was found on the beach of St. George. In a keg, Lieutenant Davin, which I committed to the waters of the lagoon, and which contained, went on the officer, the notice by which we were appraised that the island of Backcup served as a refuge for Kerkharje and his band. Kerkharje, the false Count D'Artigas, the author of the double abduction from Healthful House. Ah, Lieutenant Davin, we have not a moment to spare. We must profit by the obscurity. One word, Lieutenant Davin, how did you penetrate to the interior of Backcup? By the means of the submarine boat swore, with which we have been making experiments at St. George's for six months past. A submarine boat? Yes, it awaits us at the foot of the rocks. And now, Mr. Hart, where is Kerkharje's tug? It has been away for three weeks. Kerkharje is not here then? No, but we expect him back every day, every hour I might say. It matters little, replied Lieutenant Davin. It is not after Kerkharje but Thomas Roche we have come, and also you, Mr. Hart. The sword will not leave the lagoon till you are both on board. If she does not turn up at St. George again, they will note that I have failed and they will try again. Where is the sword, Lieutenant? On this side, in the shadow of the bank, where it cannot be seen, thanks to your directions, I and my crew were able to locate the tunnel. We came through all right, and ten minutes ago rose to the surface of the lake. Two men landed with me. I saw you issue from the cell marked on your plan. Do you know where Thomas Roche is? A few paces off, he has just passed me on his way to his laboratory. God be praised, Mr. Hart. Amen, Lieutenant Davin. The Lieutenant, the two men and I, took the path around the lagoon. We had not gone far when we perceived Thomas Roche in front of us. To throw ourselves upon him, gag him before he could utter a cry, bind him before he could offer any resistance, and bear him off to the place where the sword was, moored, was at the work of a minute. The sword was a submersible boat of only 12 tons, and consequently much inferior to the tug, both in respect to dimension and power. Her screw was worked by a couple of dynamos, fitted with accumulators that had been charged 12 hours previously in the port of St. George. However, the sword would suffice to take us out of this prison to restore us to liberty, the liberty of which I had given up all hope. Thomas Roche at last, to be rescued from the clutches of Ker-Karje and engineer Circo, the Rascals would not be able to utilize his invention, and nothing could prevent the warships from landing a storming party on the island, who would force the tunnel in the wall and secure the pirates. We saw no one while the two men were conveying Thomas Roche to the sword, and all got on board without incident. The lid was shut and secured, the water compartments filled, and the sword sank out of sight. We were saved. The sword was divided into three watertight compartments. The after one contained the accumulators and machinery. The middle one, occupied by the pilot, was surmounted by a periscope fitted with lenticular portholes, through which an electric search lamp lighted the way through the water. Forward, in the other compartment, Thomas Roche and I were shut in. My companion, though the gag which was choking him had been removed, was still bound, and, I thought, knew what was going on. But we were in a hurry to be off, and hoped to reach St. George's that very night if no obstacle was encountered. I pushed open the door of the compartment and rejoined Lieutenant David, who was standing by the man at the wheel. In the after compartment, three other men, including the engineer, awaited the lieutenant's orders to set the machinery in motion. Lieutenant David, I said, I do not think there is any particular reason why I should stay in there with Roche. If I could help you get through the tunnel, pray, command me. Yes, I shall be glad to have you, Mr. Hart. It was then exactly 37 minutes past eight. The search lamp threw a vague light through the water ahead of the sword. From where we were, we had to cross the lagoon through its entire length to get to the tunnel. It would be very difficult to fetch it, we knew. But, if necessary, we could hug the sides of the lake until we located it. Once outside the tunnel, the sword would rise to the surface and make for St. George at full speed. At what depth are we now? I asked the lieutenant about a fathom. It is not necessary to go lower, I said. From what I was able to observe during the equinautical tides, I should think that we are in the axis of the tunnel. All right, he replied. Yes, it was all right. And I felt that Providence was speaking by the mouth of the officer. Certainly, Providence could not have chosen a better agent to work its will. In the light of the lamp, I examined him. He was about 30 years of age, cool, phlegmatic, with resolute physiognomy. The English officer in all his native impassibility no more disturbed than if he had been on board the standard, operated with extraordinary sang froid. I might even say with the precision of a machine. On coming through the tunnel, I estimated its length at about 50 yards, he remarked. Yes, Lieutenant, about 50 yards from one extremity to the other. This calculation must have been pretty exact, since the new tunnel cut on a level with the coast is 35 feet in length. The order was given to go ahead and the sword moved forward very slowly for fear of colliding against the rock inside. Sometimes we came near enough to it to distinguish a black mass ahead, but a turn of the wheel put us in the right direction again. Navigating a submarine boat in the open sea is difficult enough. How much more on the confines of a lagoon? After five minutes maneuvering, the sword, which was kept at about a fathom below the surface, had not succeeded in deciding the orifice. Perhaps it would be better if we returned to the surface, Lieutenant, I said. We should be able to see where we are. Think you are right, Mr. Hart, if you can point out just about where the tunnel is located. I think I can. Very well then. As a precaution, the light was turned off. The engineer set the pumps in motion and, lighten up its water ballast, the boat rose slowly in the darkness to the surface. I remained at the post so I could peer through the lookouts. At last, the essential movement of the sword stopped and the periscope emerged about a foot. On one side of me, lighted by the lamp by the shore, I could see the beehive. What is your opinion, demanded the Lieutenant? We are too far north. The orifice is in the west side of the cavern. Is anybody about? Not a soul. Captain, Mr. Hart. Then we will keep on a level with the surface, and when we are in front of the tunnel, as you give the signal, we will sink. It was the best thing to be done. We moved off again and the pilot kept her head towards the tunnel. When we were about 12 yards off, I gave the signal to stop. As soon as this current was turned off, the sword stopped, opened her water tanks, and slowly sank again. The light in the lookout was turned on again, and there in front of us was a black circle that did not reflect the lamp's rays. There it is. There is the tunnel I cried. Was it not the door by which I was going to escape from my prison? Was not liberty awaiting me on the other side? Gently, the sword moved towards the orifice. Oh, the horrible mischance. How have I survived it? How is it that my heart is not broken? A dim light appeared in the depth of the tunnel, about 25 yards in front of us. The advancing light could be seen, none other than that, projecting through the lookout of Kerkage's submarine boat. The tug, the tug I exclaimed, Lieutenant, here is the tug returning to back cup. Full speed is stirring, ordered the officer, and the sword drew back just as she was about to enter the tunnel. One chance remained. The Lieutenant had swiftly turned off the light, and it was just possible that we had not been seen by the people in the tug. Perhaps in the dark waters of the lagoon, we should escape notice. And when the oncoming boat had risen and more to the jetty, we should be able to slip it out unperceived. We hid back, closed into the south side, and the sword was about to stop. But at last for our hopes, Captain Spade had seen that other submarine boat was about to issue through the tunnel, and he was making preparations to chase us. How could a frail craft like the sword defend itself against the tacks of Kerkage's powerful machine? Lieutenant David turned to me and said, go back to the compartment where Thomas Roche is and shut yourself in. I will close the after door. There's just a chance that if the tug rams us, the watertight compartments will keep us up. After shaking hands with the Lieutenant, who was cool as though we were in no danger, I went forward and rejoined Thomas Roche. I closed the door and awaited the issue in profound darkness. Then I could feel the desperate efforts made by the sword to escape from or ram her enemy. I could feel her rushing, gyrating, and plunging. Now she would twist to avoid a collision. Now she would rise to the surface, then sink to the bottom of the lagoon. Could anyone conceive such a struggle as that in which, like two marine monsters, these machines were engaged in beneath the troubled waters of this inland lake? A few minutes elapsed, and I began to think that the sword had eluded the tug and was rushing through the tunnel. Suddenly there was a collision. The shock was not, it seemed to me, very violent, but I could be under no illusion. The sword had been struck on her starboard quarter. Perhaps her plates had resisted, and if not, the water would only invade one of her compartments, I thought. Almost immediately after, however, there was another shock that pushed the sword with extreme violence. She was raised by the ram of the tug, which sawed and ripped its way into her side. Then I could feel her heel over and sink straight down, stern foremost. Tum's erosion, I were tumbled over violently by this movement. There was another bump, another ripping sound, and the sword laid still. Just what happened after that I am unable to say, for I lost consciousness. I have since learned that all this occurred many hours ago. I, however distinctly remember my last thought, was, if I am to die, at any rate, Tum's erosion and a secret perish with me, and the parts of back cup will not escape punishment for their crimes. Chapter 15 Of Facing the Flag This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Facing the Flag by Jules Verne Translated by Cashel Hoey Chapter 15 Expectation As soon as I recover my senses, I find myself lying on my bed in my cell, where it appears I have been lying for thirty-six hours. I am not alone. Engineer Circo is near me. He has attended to me himself, not because he regards me as a friend, I surmise, but as a man with whom indispensable explanations are awaited, and who afterwards can be done away with if necessary. I am still so weak that I cannot walk a step. A little more, and I should have been asphyxiated in the narrow compartment of the sword at the bottom of the lagoon. In my own condition to reply to the questions that Engineer Circo is dying to put to me, yes, but I shall maintain the utmost reserve. In the first place, I wonder what has become of Lieutenant Davin and the crew of the sword. Did those brave Englishmen perish in the collision? Are they safe and sound like us? For I suppose that Thomas Roche has also survived. The first question that Engineer Circo puts to me is this. Will you explain to me what happened, Mr. Hart? Instead of replying, it occurs to me to question him myself. And Thomas Roche, I inquire. In good health, Mr. Hart, then he adds in an imperious tone, tell me what occurred. In the first place, tell me what became of the others. What others, replied Circo, glancing at me savagely. Why, those men who threw themselves upon Thomas Roche and me, who gagged, bound, and carried us off, and shut us up, I know not where. On reflection, I had come to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to pretend that I had been surprised before I knew where I was or whom my aggressors were. You will know what became of them later, but first tell me how the thing was done. By the threatening tone of his voice, as he for the third time puts this question, I understand the nature of the suspicions entertained of me. Yet to be in the position to accuse me of having had relations with the outside, he would have had to get possession of my keg. This he could not have done, seeing that it is in the hands of the Bermudan authorities. The pirates cannot, I am convinced, have a single proof to back up their suspicions. I therefore recount how about eight o'clock on the previous evening, I was walking along the edge of the lagoon, after Thomas Roche had passed me, going towards his laboratory, when I felt myself seized from behind. How, having been gagged, bound, and blindfolded, I felt myself carried off and lowered into a hole with another person, whom I thought I recognized from his groans as Thomas Roche. How I soon felt that I was on board a boat of some description, and naturally concluded that it was the tug. How I felt at sink, how I felt a shock that threw me violently against the side, and how I felt myself suffocating and lost consciousness, since I remember nothing further. Engine or circle listened with profound attention, a stern look in his eyes, and a frown on his brow, and yet he can have no reason that authorizes him to doubt my word. You claim that three men threw themselves upon you, he asks? Yes, I thought that they were some of your people, for I did not see them coming. Who were they? Strangers, as you must have known from their language. They did not utter a word. Have you no ideas to their nationality? Not their modest. Do you know what were their intentions in entering the cavern? I do not. What is your opinion about it? My opinion, Mr. Circo, I repeat, I thought they were two or three of your pirates who had come to throw me into the lagoon by the Count Diartegos's orders, and that they were going to do the same thing to Thomas Groesch. I suppose that, having obtained his secrets, as you informed me was the case, you had no further use for him and were about to get rid of us both. Is it possible, Mr. Hart, that you could have thought such a thing, considered Circo in a sarcastic way? I did. Until having been able to remove the bandage from my eyes, I perceived that I was in the tug. It was not the tug, but a boat of the same kind that had got us to the tunnel. A submarine boat? Yes. And manned by persons whose missions was to kidnap you and Thomas Groesch. Kidnap us, I echo, continuing to fan surprise. And, as engineer Circo, I want to know what you think about the matter. When I think about it, well, it appears to me that there is only one plausible explanation possible. If the secret of your retreat has not been betrayed, and I cannot conceive how you could have been betrayed, or by what imprudence you or yours could have committed, my opinion is that this submarine boat was exploring the bottom of the sea in this neighborhood, that she must have found her way into the tunnel, that she rose to the surface of the lagoon, that her crew, greatly surprised to find themselves inside an inhabited cavern. She's told of the first persons they came across, Thomas Groesch and myself, and others as well, perhaps, as for, of course, I do not know. Engineer Circo had become serious again. Did he realize the inanity of the hypothesis I tried to pass off on him? Did he think I knew more than I will say? However, this may be. He accepts my professed view and says, In effect, Mr. Hart, it must have happened as you suggest. When the stranger tried to make a way out through the tunnel, just as the tug was entering, there was a collision, a collision of which she was the victim. We are not the kind of people to allow our fellow men to perish before our eyes. Moreover, the disappearance of Thomas Groesch and yourself was almost immediately discovered. Two such valuable lives had to be saved at all hazards. We set to work. There are many expert divers among our men. They hastily donned their suits and descended to the bottom of the lagoon. They passed lines around the hull of the sword. The sword, I exclaimed. That is the name we saw painted on the bow of the vessel when we raised her to the surface. What satisfaction we experienced when we recovered you, unconscious, it is true, but still breathing, and we were able to bring you back to life. Unfortunately, all our attentions to the officer who commanded the sword and to his crew were useless. The shock had torn open the after and middle compartments, and they paid for their lives the misfortune. Due to chance, as you observe, of having discovered our mysterious retreat. On learning that Lieutenant Davin and his companions are dead, my heart is filled with anguish. But to keep up my role, as there were persons with whom, presumably, I was not acquainted, I had never seen, I am careful not to display any emotion. I must, on no account, afford ground for the suspicion that there was any conevidence between the commander of the sword and me. For ought, I know, Engineer Circo may have reasoned to be very skeptical about the discovery of the tunnel being accidental. What, however, I am most concerned about, is that the unlooked for occasion to recover my liberty was lost. Shall I ever be afforded another chance? However this may be, my notice reads the English authorities of the Archipelago, and they now know where Kirkarje is to be found. When it is seen that the sword does not return to Bermuda, there can be no doubt that another attempt will be made to get inside that cup, in which, had it not been for the inopportune return of the tug, I should no longer be a prisoner. I have resumed my usual existence, and I have elayed all my trust, and permitted to wander freely about the cavern as usual. It is patent that the adventure is no ill effect upon Thomas Roche. Intelligent nursing brought him around, as it did me, in full position of his mental faculties, he has returned to work, and spends the entire day in his laboratory. The Eba brought back from her last trip, bales, boxes, and a quantity of objects of varied origin, and I conclude that a number of ships must have been pillaged during this maraudering expedition. The work on the trestles for Roche's engines goes steadily forward, and there are now no fewer than fifty engines. If Kirkharge and engineer Circo are under the necessity of defending back cup, three or four will be sufficient to render the island unapproachable, as they will cover a zone which no vessel could enter without being blown to pieces, and it occurs to me that they intend to put back cup in a state of defense after having argued as follows. If the appearance of the sword and the lagoon was due to chance, situation remains unchanged, and no power not even England will think of seeking for the sword inside the cavern, if, on the other hand, as the result of an incomprehensible revelation, it has been learned that back cup is become their treat of Kirkharge, if the expedition of the sword was a first effort against the island, another of a different kind, either a bombardment from a distance, or an attack by a landing party, the list be expected, therefore, ere we can quit back cup and carry away our plunder, we shall have to defend ourselves by means of Broche's fulgarator. In my opinion, the rascals must have gone on to reason still further in this wise. Is there any connection between the disclosure of our secret, if it was, and however may have been made, and the double abduction from healthful house? Is it known that Thomas Broche and his keeper are confined in back cup? Is it known that the abduction was affected in the interest of Kirkharge, have Americans, English, French, German, and Russians reason to fear that an attack in force against the island would be doomed to failure? Kirkharge must know very well that these powers will not hesitate to attack him, however great the danger might be. The destruction of his layer is an urgent duty in the interest of public security and humanity. After sweeping the West Pacific, the pirate and his companions are infesting the West Atlantic, and must be wiped out at all costs. In any case, it is imperative that the inhabitants of back cup should be on their guard. This fact is realized, and from the day on which the sword was destroyed, strict watch has been kept. Thanks to the new passage, they are able to hide among the rocks without having recourse to the submarine tunnel to get there. And day and night, a dozen centuries are posted about the island. The moment a ship appears in sight, the fact is at once made known inside the cavern. Nothing occurs for some days, and the latter succeed each other with dreadful monotony. The pirates, however, feel that back cup no longer enjoys its former security. Every moment in alarm from the sentries posted outside is expected. The situation is no longer the same since the advent of the sword. Gallant Lieutenant Davin, Gallant crew, may England, may the civilized nations never forget that you have sacrificed your lives in the case of humanity. It is evident that now, however powerful may be their means of defense, even more powerful than a network of torpedoes, Engineer Circo and Captain Spade are filled with an anxiety that they vainly assay to an assemble. They hold frequent conferences together. Maybe they discuss the advisability of quitting back cup with their wealth, for they are aware that if the existence of the cavern is known, means will be found to reduce it, even if the inmates have to be starved out. That is, of course, mere conjecture on my part. What is essential to me is that they do not suspect me of having launched the keg that was so providentially picked up at Bermuda. Never, I must say, has Engineer Circo ever made any allusion to any such probability. No, I am not even suspected. If the contrary were the case, I am sufficiently acquainted with Kirkardia to know that he would long ago have sent me to rejoin Lieutenant David and the Sword at the bottom of the lagoon. The wild tempests have set in with the vengeance. The wind howls through the hole in the roof, and rude gusts sweep through the forests of pillars producing sonorous sounds, so sonorous, so deep, that one might sometimes almost fancy they are produced by the firing of the guns of a squadron. Flocks of seabirds take refuge in the cavern from the gale, and at intervals, when it lolls, almost deafen us with their screaming. It is to be presumed that in such weather the schooner will make no attempt to put to sea, for the stock of provisions is ample enough to last all the season. Moreover, I imagine that Count de Artigos will not be so eager in future to show the Eba along the American coast, where he risks being received not, as hitherto, with the consideration due to a wealthy yachtsman, but in the manner Carcage so richly merits. It occurs to me that if the apparition of the sword was the commencement of a campaign against the island, a question of great moment relative to the future back-couple rises. Therefore, one day, prudently, so as not to excite any suspicion, I ventured to pump Engineer Circo about it. We were in the neighborhood of Thomas Borussia's laboratory, and it had been conversing from some time when Engineer Circo touched upon the extraordinary apparition of an English submarine boat in the lagoon. On this occasion, he seemed to incline to the view that it might have been a premeditated expedition against Carcage. That is not my opinion, I replied, in order to bring him to the question I wanted to put to him. Why, he demanded, because if your retreat were known, a fresh attempt, if not to penetrate to the cavern, at least to destroy that cup, would ere this had been made. Destroy it, cried Circo. It would be a dangerous undertaking in view of the means of defense of which we now dispose. They can know nothing about this matter, Mr. Circo. It is not imagined, either in the New World or the Old, that the abduction from healthful house was effected for your especial benefit, or that you have succeeded in coming to terms with Thomas Roche for his invention. Engineer Circo made no response to this observation, which, for that matter, was unanswerable. I continued. Therefore, a squadron sent by the maritime powers, who have an interest in breaking up this island, would not hesitate to approach and shell it. Now, I argue from this, that as this squadron has not yet appeared, it is not likely to come at all, and that nothing is known as to Carcage's whereabouts, and you must admit that this hypothesis is the most cheerful one, as far as you are concerned. That may be, Engineer Circo replied, but what is, is. Whether they are aware of the fact or no, if warships approach within five or six miles of this island, they will be sunk before they have time to fire a single shot. Well, and what then? What then? Why, the probability is that no others could care to repeat the experiment. That again may be, but these warships would invest you beyond the dangerous zone, and the Eba would not be able to put into the port she previously visited with Count D'Artigus. In this event, how would you be able to provision the island? Engineer Circo remained silent. The argument, which she must have already brooded over, was too logical to be refuted or dismissed, and I have an idea that the pirates contemplate abandoning that cup. Nevertheless, not relishing being cornered, he continued, we would still have the tug, and what the Eba could not do, this would. The tug, I cried, but if Kirk Harje's secrets are known, do you suppose the powers are not also aware of the existence of the Count D'Artigus's submarine boat? Engineer Circo looked at me suspiciously. Mr. Hart, he said, you appear to me to carry your deductions rather far. I, Mr. Circo, yes, and I think you talk about all this like a man who knows more than he ought to. This remark brought me up abruptly. It was evident that my arguments might give rise to the suspicion that I was not altogether irresponsible for the recent incident. Engineer Circo scrutinized me sharply as though he would read my innermost thoughts. Mr. Circo, I observed, by profession, as well as by inclination, I am accustomed to reason upon everything. This is why I communicated to you the result of my reasoning, which you can take into consideration or not, as you like. Thereupon we separate, but I fancy my lack of reserve may have excited suspicions, which may not be easy to allay. From this interview, however, I gleaned a precious bit of information, namely that the dangerous zone of Rocha's full grader is between five and six miles off. Perhaps, during the equinomical tides, another notice to this effect in another keg may also reach a safe destination. But how many weary months to wait before the orifice of the tunnel will again be uncovered? The rough weather continues and the squalls are more violent than ever. Is it the state of the sea that delays another campaign against back up? Lieutenant David certainly assured me that if his expedition failed, that the sword did not return to St. George another attempt under different conditions would be made with a view to breaking up the spandits layer. Sooner or later the work of justice must be done and back up be destroyed, even though I may not survive its destruction. Why can I not go and breathe if only for a single instant the vivifying air outside? Why am I not permitted to cast one glance over the ocean towards the distant horizon of the Bermudas? My whole life is concentrated in one desire to get through the tunnel in the wall and hide myself among the rocks, perchance that may be the first to catch sight of the smoke of a squadron heading for the island. This project, alas, is unrealizable as centuries are posted day and night at each extremity of the passage. No one can enter it without Engineer Circo's authorization, where I to attempt it I should risk being deprived of my liberate to walk around the cavern. And even worse might happen to me. Since our last conversation, Engineer Circo's attitude towards me has undergone a change. His gaze has lost its old-time sarcasm and is distrustful, suspicious, searching and as stern as Kerkarages. November 17th. This afternoon there was a great commotion in the beehive and the men rushed out of their cells with loud cries. I was reclined on my bed but immediately rose and hurried out. All the pirates were making for the passage in front of which were Kerkarages, Engineer Circo, Captain Spade, Boatswain Efrandat, Engineer Driver Gibson, and County Artigas's big melee attendant. I soon learned the reason for the tumult, for the centuries rushing which shouts of alarm. Several vessels had been sited to the northwest, warships steaming at full speed in the direction of the back cup. End of Chapter 15