Essential Science Fiction Novels - Volume 6. Richard Jefferies

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СКАЧАТЬ don't want it; if I take it, you will have to pour it down my throat.”

      The officer smiled as he put the glass and decanter away. Faster and faster flew the machine. They had to put the window down, for the current of air had become too strong and cool to be pleasant. The color of the sunlight changed to green, and then at noon, from the zenith, a glorious red light shimmered down and veiled the earth with such a beautiful translucent haze that the poor American for a moment almost forgot his trouble.

      The afternoon came on. The sunlight became successively green, white, blue, lavender, rose and gray. The sun was no longer in sight and the gray in the west was darkening into purple, the last hour of the day. Night was at hand. Johnston's limbs were growing stiff from inaction, and he had a strong desire to speak or to hear one of the officers say something, but they were dozing in their respective corners. The moon had risen and hung far out in space overhead, but they seemed to be leaving it behind. Later he felt sure of this, for its light gradually became dimmer and dimmer till at last they were in total darkness—darkness pierced only by the powerful search-light which threw its dazzling, trumpet-shaped rays far ahead. But, search as he would in the direction they were going, the unfortunate American could see nothing but the ever-receding wall of blackness.

      Suddenly they began to descend. The officers awoke and stretched themselves and yawned. One of them opened the window and Johnston heard a far-off, roaring sound like that of a multitude of skaters on a vast sheet of ice.

      Down, down, they dropped. Johnston's heart was in his mouth.

      The machine suddenly slackened in its speed and then hung poised in mid-air. The rays of the search-light were directed downward and slowly shifted from point to point. Looking down, the American caught glimpses of rugged rocks, sharp cliffs and yawning chasms.

      “How is it?” asked the first officer, through a speaking-tube, of the driver.

      “A good landing!” was the reply.

      “Well, go down.” And a moment later the machine settled on the uneven ground.

      The same officer opened the door, and gently pushed Johnston out. Johnston expected them to follow him, but the door of the machine closed behind him.

      “Stand out of the way,” cried out the officer through the window; “you may get struck as we rise.”

      Involuntarily Johnston obeyed. There was a sound of escaping air from beneath the machine, a fierce commotion in the atmosphere which sucked him toward the machine, and then the dazzling search-light blinded him, as the air-ship bounded upward and sailed back over the course it had come.

      Johnston stood paralyzed with fear. “My God, this is awful!” he exclaimed in terror, and his knees gave way beneath him and he sank to the rock. “They have left me here to starve in this hellish darkness!” He remained there for a moment, his face covered with his hands, then he sprang up desperately, and started to grope through the darkness, he knew not whither. He stumbled at almost every step, and ran against boulders which bruised his hands and face, and went on till his strength was gone. Then he paused and looked back toward the direction from which he had come. It seemed to him that he could see the straight line of mighty black wall above which there was a faint appearance of light. A lump rose in the throat of the poor fellow, and tears sprang into his eyes.

      But what was that? Surely it was a sound. It could not have been the wind, for the air was perfectly still. The sound was repeated. It was like the moaning of a human voice far away in the dark. Could it be some one in distress, some poor unfortunate, banished being, like himself? Again he heard the sound, and this time, it was like the voice of some one talking.

      “Hello!” shouted the American, and a cold shudder went over him at the sound of his own husky voice. There was a dead silence, then, like an echo of his own cry, faintly came the word, “Hello!”

      Filled with superstitious fear, the American cautiously groped toward the sound. “Hello, there, who are you?”

      “Help, help!” said the voice, and it was now much nearer.

      Johnston plunged forward precipitately. “Where are you?”

      “Here,” and a human form loomed up before him.

      For a moment neither spoke, then the strange figure said: “I thought at first that you were some one sent to rescue me, but I see you are alone—damned like myself.”

      “It looks that way,” replied Johnston.

      “When did they bring you?”

      “Only a moment ago.”

      “My God, it is awful! A week ago I did not dream of such a fate as this. I had enemies. The medical men were bribed to vote against me. Am I not strong? Am I not muscular? Feel my arms and thighs.”

      He held out an arm and Johnston felt of it. The muscles were like stone.

      “You are a giant.”

      “Ah! you are right; but they reported that there was a taint in my blood. I was to marry Lallio, the most beautiful creature in our village—Madryl, you know, the nearest hamlet to the home of the Sun. I was rich, and the best farmer there. But Lyngale wanted her. She hated him and spat at him when he spoke against me. He proved by others that my lungs were weak, and showed them the blood of a slain dog in my fields that they said had come from my lungs. Ah, they were curs! My lungs weak! Strike my chest with all your might. Does it not sound like the king's thunder? Strike, I say!” and as the enfeebled American struck his bare breast he cried:—“Harder, harder! Pooh, you are a child, see this, and this,” and he emphasized his words with thunderous blows on his resounding chest.

      “But it has been so for a century,” he panted; “hundreds have been unjustly buried alive here. The king thinks it is not murder because they die of starvation. I have stumbled over the bones of giants here in the dark lands, and have met dying men that are stronger than the king's athletes.”

      “What, are there others here?” gasped the American.

      The Alphian was silent in astonishment.

      “Why, where did you come from?” he asked, after a pause.

      “From New York City.”

      “I don't know of it, and yet I thought I knew of all the places inside the great endless wall.”

      Johnston was mystified in his turn. “It is not in your country—your world, or whatever you call it. It is far away.”

      “Ah, under the white sun! In the 'Ocean Country,' and the world of fierce winds and disease. And you are from there. I had heard of it before they banished me; but two days since I came across a dying man, away over there. He was huddled against the wall, and had fallen and killed himself in his efforts to climb back to food and light.

      “I saw him die. He told me that he had come from your land when he was a child. His trouble was the lungs and he had fallen off to a skeleton. He talked to me of your wide ocean land. Is it, indeed so great? And has it no walls about it?”

      “No, it is surrounded by water.”

      “I cannot understand,” and, after a pause, in which Johnston could hear the great fellow's heart beating, СКАЧАТЬ