The Greatest Works of Abraham Merritt. Abraham Merritt

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      On O’Keefe’s face there was an expression of well-nigh ludicrous doubt and amazement. He glanced from one to the other. The giant shifted his own tense look from me to the Irishman. A gleam of approval lighted in his eyes. He loosed me, and gripped O’Keefe’s arm. “Staerk!” he said. “Ja — strong, and with a strong heart. A man — ja! He comes too — we shall need him — ja!”

      “I tell,” he muttered, and seated himself on the side of the bunk. “It was four nights ago. My Freda”— his voice shook —“Mine Yndling! She loved the moonlight. I was at the wheel and my Freda and my Helma they were behind me. The moon was behind us and the Brunhilda was like a swanboat sailing down with the moonlight sending her, ja.

      “I heard my Freda say: ‘I see a nisse coming down the track of the moon.’ And I hear her mother laugh, low, like a mother does when her Yndling dreams. I was happy — that night — with my Helma and my Freda, and the Brunhilda sailing like a swan-boat, ja. I heard the child say, ‘The nisse comes fast!’ And then I heard a scream from my Helma, a great scream — like a mare when her foal is torn from her. I spun around fast, ja! I dropped the wheel and spun fast! I saw —” He covered his eyes with his hands.

      The Portuguese had crept close to me, and I heard him panting like a frightened dog.

      “I saw a white fire spring over the rail,” whispered Olaf Huldricksson. “It whirled round and round, and it shone like — like stars in a whirlwind mist. There was a noise in my ears. It sounded like bells — little bells, ja! Like the music you make when you run your finger round goblets. It made me sick and dizzy — the hell noise.

      “My Helma was — indeholde — what you say — in the middle of the white fire. She turned her face to me and she turned it on the child, and my Helma’s face burned into my heart. Because it was full of fear, and it was full of happiness — of glaede. I tell you that the fear in my Helma’s face made me ice here”— he beat his breast with clenched hand —“but the happiness in it burned on me like fire. And I could not move — I could not move.

      “I said in here”— he touched his head —“I said, ‘It is Loki come out of Helvede. But he cannot take my Helma, for Christ lives and Loki has no power to hurt my Helma or my Freda! Christ lives! Christ lives!’ I said. But the sparkling devil did not let my Helma go. It drew her to the rail; half over it. I saw her eyes upon the child and a little she broke away and reached to it. And my Freda jumped into her arms. And the fire wrapped them both and they were gone! A little I saw them whirling on the moon track behind the Brunhilda — and they were gone!

      “The sparkling devil took them! Loki was loosed, and he had power. I turned the Brunhilda, and I followed where my Helma and mine Yndling had gone. My boys crept up and asked me to turn again. But I would not. They dropped a boat and left me. I steered straight on the path. I lashed my hands to the wheel that sleep might not loose them. I steered on and on and on —

      “Where was the God I prayed when my wife and child were taken?” cried Olaf Huldricksson — and it was as though I heard Throckmartin asking that same bitter question. “I have left Him as He left me, ja! I pray now to Thor and to Odin, who can fetter Loki.” He sank back, covering again his eyes.

      “Olaf,” I said, “what you have called the sparkling devil has taken ones dear to me. I, too, was following it when we found you. You shall go with me to its home, and there we will try to take from it your wife and your child and my friends as well. But now that you may be strong for what is before us, you must sleep again.”

      Olaf Huldricksson looked upon me and in his eyes was that something which souls must see in the eyes of Him the old Egyptians called the Searcher of Hearts in the Judgment Hall of Osiris.

      “You speak truth!” he said at last slowly. “I will do what you say!”

      He stretched out an arm at my bidding. I gave him a second injection. He lay back and soon he was sleeping. I turned toward Da Costa. His face was livid and sweating, and he was trembling pitiably. O’Keefe stirred.

      “You did that mighty well, Dr. Goodwin,” he said. “So well that I almost believed you myself.”

      “What did you think of his story, Mr. O’Keefe?” I asked.

      His answer was almost painfully brief and colloquial.

      “Nuts!” he said. I was a little shocked, I admit. “I think he’s crazy, Dr. Goodwin,” he corrected himself, quickly. “What else could I think?”

      I turned to the little Portuguese without answering.

      “There’s no need for any anxiety tonight, Captain,” I said. “Take my word for it. You need some rest yourself. Shall I give you a sleeping draft?”

      “I do wish you would, Dr. Goodwin, sair,” he answered gratefully. “Tomorrow, when I feel bettair — I would have a talk with you.”

      I nodded. He did know something then! I mixed him an opiate of considerable strength. He took it and went to his own cabin.

      I locked the door behind him and then, sitting beside the sleeping Norseman, I told O’Keefe my story from end to end. He asked few questions as I spoke. But after I had finished he cross-examined me rather minutely upon my recollections of the radiant phases upon each appearance, checking these with Throckmartin’s observations of the same phenomena in the Chamber of the Moon Pool.

      “And now what do you think of it all?” I asked.

      He sat silent for a while, looking at Huldricksson.

      “Not what you seem to think, Dr. Goodwin,” he answered at last, gravely. “Let me sleep over it. One thing of course is certain — you and your friend Throckmartin and this man here saw — something. But —” he was silent again and then continued with a kindness that I found vaguely irritating —“but I’ve noticed that when a scientist gets superstitious it — er — takes very hard!

      “Here’s a few things I can tell you now though,” he went on while I struggled to speak —“I pray in my heart that we’ll meet neither the Dolphin nor anything with wireless on board going up. Because, Dr. Goodwin, I’d dearly love to take a crack at your Dweller.

      “And another thing,” said O’Keefe. “After this — cut out the trimmings, Doc, and call me plain Larry, for whether I think you’re crazy or whether I don’t, you’re there with the nerve, Professor, and I’m for YOU.

      “Good night!” said Larry and took himself out to the deck hammock he had insisted upon having slung for him, refusing the captain’s importunities to use his own cabin.

      And it was with extremely mixed emotions as to his compliment that I watched him go. Superstitious. I, whose pride was my scientific devotion to fact and fact alone! Superstitious — and this from a man who believed in banshees and ghostly harpers and Irish wood nymphs and no doubt in leprechauns and all their tribe!

      Half laughing, half irritated, and wholly happy in even the part promise of Larry O’Keefe’s comradeship on my venture, I arranged a couple of pillows, stretched myself out on two chairs and took up my vigil beside Olaf Huldricksson.

      CHAPTER IX

       A LOST PAGE OF EARTH

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