THE MASTER OF THE WORLD
By
Jules Verne
Chapter 1
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE MOUNTAINS
If I speak of myself in this story, it is because I have been deeply
involved in its startling events, events doubtless among the most
extraordinary which this twentieth century will witness. Sometimes I
even ask myself if all this has really happened, if its pictures
dwell in truth in my memory, and not merely in my imagination. In my
position as head inspector in the federal police department at
Washington, urged on moreover by the desire, which has always been
very strong in me, to investigate and understand everything which is
mysterious, I naturally became much interested in these remarkable
occurrences. And as I have been employed by the government in various
important affairs and secret missions since I was a mere lad, it also
happened very naturally that the head of my department placed In my
charge this astonishing investigation, wherein I found myself
wrestling with so many impenetrable mysteries.
In the remarkable passages of the recital, it is important that you
should believe my word. For some of the facts I can bring no other
testimony than my own. If you do not wish to believe me, so be it. I
can scarce believe it all myself.
The strange occurrences began in the western part of our great
American State of North Carolina. There, deep amid the Blueridge
Mountains rises the crest called the Great Eyrie. Its huge rounded
form is distinctly seen from the little town of Morganton on the
Catawba River, and still more clearly as one approaches the mountains
by way of the village of Pleasant Garden.
Why the name of Great Eyrie was originally given this mountain by the
people of the surrounding region, I am not quite Sure It rises rocky
and grim and inaccessible, and under certain atmospheric conditions
has a peculiarly blue and distant effect. But the idea one would
naturally get from the name is of a refuge for birds of prey, eagles
condors, vultures; the home of vast numbers of the feathered tribes,
wheeling and screaming above peaks beyond the reach of man. Now, the
Great Eyrie did not seem particularly attractive to birds; on the
contrary, the people of the neighborhood began to remark that on some
days when birds approached its summit they mounted still further,
circled high above the crest, and then flew swiftly away, troubling
the air with harsh cries.
Why then the name Great Eyrie? Perhaps the mount might better have
been called a crater, for in the center of those steep and rounded
walls there might well be a huge deep basin. Perhaps there might even
lie within their circuit a mountain lake, such as exists in other
parts of the Appalachian mountain system, a lagoon fed by the rain
and the winter snows.
In brief was not this the site of an ancient volcano, one which had
slept through ages, but whose inner fires might yet reawake? Might
not the Great Eyrie reproduce in its neighborhood the violence of
Mount Krakatoa or the terrible disaster of Mont Pelee? If there were
indeed a central lake, was there not danger that its waters,
penetrating the strata beneath, would be turned to steam by the
volcanic fires and tear their way forth in a tremendous explosion,
deluging the fair plains of Carolina with an eruption such as that of
1902 in Martinique?
Indeed, with regard to this last possibility there had been certain
symptoms recently observed which might well be due to volcanic
action. Smoke had floated above the mountain and once the country
folk passing near had heard subterranean noises, unexplainable
rumblings. A glow in the sky had crowned the height at night.
When the wind blew the smoky cloud eastward toward Pleasant Garden, a
few cinders and ashes drifted down from it. And finally one stormy
night pale flames, reflected from the clouds above the summit, cast
upon the district below a sinister, warning light.
In presence of these strange phenomena, it is not astonishing that
the people of the surrounding district became seriously disquieted.
And to the disquiet was joined an imperious need of knowing the true
condition of the mountain. The Carolina newspapers had flaring
headlines, "The Mystery of Great Eyrie!" They asked if it was not
dangerous to dwell in such a region. Their articles aroused curiosity
and fear--curiosity among those who being in no danger themselves
were interested in the disturbance merely as a strange phenomenon of
nature, fear in those who were likely to be the victims if a
catastrophe actually occurred. Those more immediately threatened were
the citizens of Morganton, and even more the good folk of Pleasant
Garden and the hamlets and farms yet closer to the mountain.
Assuredly it was regrettable that mountain climbers had not
previously attempted to ascend to the summit of the Great Eyrie. The
cliffs of rock which surrounded it had never been scaled. Perhaps
they might offer no path by which even the most daring climber could
penetrate to the interior. Yet, if a volcanic eruption menaced all
the western region of the Carolinas, then a complete examination of
the mountain was become absolutely necessary.
Now before the actual ascent of the crater, with its many serious
difficulties, was attempted, there was one way which offered an
opportunity of reconnoitering the interior, with out clambering up
the precipices. In the first days of September of that memorable
year, a well-known aeronaut named Wilker came to Morganton with his
balloon. By waiting for a breeze from the east, he could easily rise
in his balloon and drift over the Great Eyrie. There from a safe
height above he could search with a powerful glass into its deeps.
Thus he would know if the mouth of a volcano really opened amid the
mighty rocks. This was the principal question. If this were settled,
it would be known if the surrounding country must fear an eruption at
some period more or less distant.
The ascension was begun according to the programme suggested. The
wind was fair and steady; the sky clear; the morning clouds were
disappearing under the vigorous rays of the sun. If the interior of
the Great Eyrie was not filled with smoke, the aeronaut would be able
to search with his glass its entire extent. If the vapors were
rising, he, no doubt, could detect their source.
The balloon rose at once to a height of fifteen hundred feet, and
there rested almost motionless for a quarter of an hour. Evidently
the east wind, which was brisk upon the Surface of the earth, did not
make itself felt at that height. Then, unlucky chance, the balloon
was caught in an adverse current, and began to drift toward the east.
Its distance from the mountain chain rapidly increased. Despite all
the efforts of the aeronaut, the citizens of Morganton saw the
balloon disappear on the wrong horizon. Later, they learned that it
had landed in the neighborhood of Raleigh, the capital of North
Carolina.
This attempt having failed, it was agreed that it should be tried
again under better conditions. Indeed, fresh rumblings were heard
from the mountain, accompanied by heavy clouds and wavering
glimmerings of light at night. Folk began to realize that the Great
Eyrie was a serious and perhaps imminent source of danger. Yes, the
entire country lay under the threat of some seismic or volcanic
disaster.
During the first days of April of that year, these more or less vague
apprehensions turned to actual panic. The newspapers gave prompt echo
to the public terror. The entire district between the mountains and
Morganton was sure that an eruption was at hand.
The night of the fourth of April, the good folk of Pleasant Garden
were awakened by a sudden uproar. They thought that the mountains
were falling upon them. They rushed from their houses, ready for
instant flight, fearing to see open before them some immense abyss,
engulfing the farms and villages for miles around.
The night was very dark. A weight of heavy clouds pressed down upon
the plain. Even had it been day the crest of the mountains would have
been invisible.
In the midst of this impenetrable obscurity, there was no response to
the cries which arose from every side. Frightened groups of men,
women, and children groped their way along the black roads in wild
confusion. From every quarter came the screaming voices: "It is an
earthquake!" "It is an eruption!" "Whence comes it?" "From the Great
Eyrie!"
Into Morganton sped the news that stones, lava, ashes, were raining
down upon the country.
Shrewd citizens of the town, however, observed that if there were an
eruption the noise would have continued and increased, the flames
would have appeared above the crater; or at least their lurid
reflections would have penetrated the clouds. Now, even these
reflections were no longer seen. If there had been an earthquake, the
terrified people saw that at least their houses had not crumbled
beneath the shock. It was possible that the uproar had been caused by
an avalanche, the fall of some mighty rock from the summit of the
mountains.
An hour passed without other incident. A wind from the west sweeping
over the long chain of the Blueridge, set the pines and hemlocks
wailing on the higher slopes. There seemed no new cause for panic;
and folk began to return to their houses. All, however, awaited
impatiently the return of day.
Then suddenly, toward three o'clock in the morning, another alarm!
Flames leaped up above the rocky wall of the Great Eyrie. Reflected
from the clouds, they illuminated the atmosphere for a great
distance. A crackling, as if of many burning trees, was heard.
Had a fire spontaneously broken out? And to what cause was it due?
Lightning could not have started the conflagration; for no thunder
had been heard. True, there was plenty of material for fire; at this
height the chain of the Blueridge is well wooded. But these flames
were too sudden for any ordinary cause.
"An eruption! An eruption!"
The cry resounded from all sides. An eruption! The Great Eyrie was
then indeed the crater of a volcano buried in the bowels of the
mountains. And after so many years, so many ages even, had it
reawakened? Added to the flames, was a rain of stones and ashes about
to follow? Were the lavas going to pour down torrents of molten fire,
destroying everything in their passage, annihilating the towns, the
villages, the farms, all this beautiful world of meadows, fields and
forests, even as far as Pleasant Garden and Morganton?
This time the panic was overwhelming; nothing could stop it. Women
carrying their infants, crazed with terror, rushed along the eastward
roads. Men, deserting their homes, made hurried bundles of their most
precious belongings and set free their livestock, cows, sheep, pigs,
which fled in all directions. What disorder resulted from this
agglomeration, human and animal, under darkest night, amid forests,
threatened by the fires of the volcano, along the border of marshes
whose waters might be upheaved and overflow! With the earth itself
threatening to disappear from under the feet of the fugitives! Would
they be in time to save themselves, if a cascade of glowing lava came
rolling down the slope of the mountain across their route?
Nevertheless, some of the chief and shrewder farm owners were not
swept away in this mad flight, which they did their best to restrain.
Venturing within a mile of the mountain, they saw that the glare of
the flames was decreasing. In truth it hardly seemed that the region
was immediately menaced by any further upheaval. No stones were being
hurled into space; no torrent of lava was visible upon the slopes; no
rumblings rose from the ground. There was no further manifestation of
any seismic disturbance capable of overwhelming the land.
At length, the flight of the fugitives ceased at a distance where
they seemed secure from all danger. Then a few ventured back toward
the mountain. Some farms were reoccupied before the break of day.
By morning the crests of the Great Eyrie showed scarcely the least
remnant of its cloud of smoke. The fires were certainly at an end;
and if it were impossible to determine their cause, one might at
least hope that they would not break out again.
It appeared possible that the Great Eyrie had not really been the
theater of volcanic phenomena at all. There was no further evidence
that the neighborhood was at the mercy either of eruptions or of
earthquakes.
Yet once more about five o'clock, from beneath the ridge of the
mountain, where the shadows of night still lingered, a strange noise
swept across the air, a sort of whirring, accompanied by the beating
of mighty wings. And had it been a clear day, perhaps the farmers
would have seen the passage of a mighty bird of prey, some monster of
the skies, which having risen from the Great Eyrie sped away toward
the east.
Chapter 2
I REACH MORGANTON
The twenty-seventh of April, having left Washington the night before,
I arrived at Raleigh, the capital of the State of North Carolina.
Two days before, the head of the federal police had called me to his
room. He was awaiting me with some impatience. "John Strock," said
he, "are you still the man who on so many occasions has proven to me
both his devotion and his ability?"
"Mr. Ward," I answered, with a bow, "I cannot promise success or even
ability, but as to devotion, I assure you, it is yours."
"I do not doubt it," responded the chief. "And I will ask you instead
this more exact question: Are you as fond of riddles as ever? As
eager to penetrate into mysteries, as I have known you before?"
"I am, Mr. Ward."
"Good, Strock; then listen."
Mr. Ward, a man of about fifty years, of great power and intellect,
was fully master of the important position he filled. He had several
times entrusted to me difficult missions which I had accomplished
successfully, and which had won me his confidence. For several months
past, however, he had found no occasion for my services. Therefore I
awaited with impatience what he had to say. I did not doubt that his
questioning implied a serious and important task for me.
"Doubtless you know," said he, "what has happened down in the
Blueridge Mountains near Morganton."
"Surely, Mr. Ward, the phenomena reported from there have been
singular enough to arouse anyone's curiosity."
"They are singular, even remarkable, Strock. No doubt about that. But
there is also reason to ask, if these phenomena about the Great Eyrie
are not a source of continued danger to the people there, if they are
not forerunners of some disaster as terrible as it is mysterious."
"It is to be feared, sir."
"So we must know, Strock, what is inside of that mountain. If we are
helpless in the face of some great force of nature, people must be
warned in time of the danger which threatens them."
"It is clearly the duty of the authorities, Mr. Ward," responded I,
"to learn what is going on within there."
"True, Strock; but that presents great difficulties. Everyone reports
that it is impossible to scale the precipices of the Great Eyrie and
reach its interior. But has anyone ever attempted it with scientific
appliances and under the best conditions? I doubt it, and believe a
resolute attempt may bring success."
"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Ward; what we face here is merely a
question of expense."
"We must not regard expense when we are seeking to reassure an entire
population, or to preserve it from a catastrophe. There is another
suggestion I would make to you. Perhaps this Great Eyrie is not so
inaccessible as is supposed. Perhaps a band of malefactors have
secreted themselves there, gaining access by ways known only to
themselves."
"What! You suspect that robbers--"
"Perhaps I am wrong, Strock; and these strange sights and sounds have
all had natural causes. Well, that is what we have to settle, and as
quickly as possible."
"I have one question to ask."
"Go ahead, Strock."
"When the Great Eyrie has been visited, when we know the source of
these phenomena, if there really is a crater there and an eruption is
imminent, can we avert it?"
"No, Strock; but we can estimate the extent of the danger. If some
volcano in the Alleghanies threatens North Carolina with a disaster
similar to that of Martinique, buried beneath the outpourings of Mont
Pelee, then these people must leave their homes."
"I hope, sir, there is no such widespread danger."
"I think not, Strock; it seems to me highly improbable that an active
volcano exists in the Blueridge mountain chain. Our Appalachian
mountain system is nowhere volcanic in its origin. But all these
events cannot be without basis. In short, Strock, we have decided to
make a strict inquiry into the phenomena of the Great Eyrie, to
gather all the testimony, to question the people of the towns and
farms. To do this, I have made choice of an agent in whom we have
full confidence; and this agent is you, Strock."
"Good! I am ready, Mr. Ward," cried I, "and be sure that I shall
neglect nothing to bring you full information."
"I know it, Strock, and I will add that I regard you as specially
fitted for the work. You will have a splendid opportunity to
exercise, and I hope to satisfy, your favorite passion of curiosity."
"As you say, sir."
"You will be free to act according to circumstances. As to expenses,
if there seems reason to organize an ascension party, which will be
costly, you have carte blanche."
"I will act as seems best, Mr. Ward."
"Let me caution you to act with all possible discretion. The people
in the vicinity are already over-excited. It will be well to move
secretly. Do not mention the suspicions I have suggested to you. And
above all, avoid arousing any fresh panic."
"It is understood."
"You will be accredited to the Mayor of Morganton, who will assist
you. Once more, be prudent, Strock, and acquaint no one with your
mission, unless it is absolutely necessary. You have often given
proofs of your intelligence and address; and this time I feel assured
you will succeed."
I asked him only "When shall I start?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, I shall leave Washington; and the day after, I shall be at
Morganton."
How little suspicion had I of what the future had in store for me!
I returned immediately to my house where I made my preparations for
departure; and the next evening found me in Raleigh. There I passed
the night, and in the course of the next afternoon arrived at the
railroad station of Morganton.
Morganton is but a small town, built upon strata of the jurassic
period, particularly rich in coal. Its mines give it some prosperity.
It also has numerous unpleasant mineral waters, so that the season
there attracts many visitors. Around Morganton is a rich farming
country, with broad fields of grain. It lies in the midst of swamps,
covered with mosses and reeds. Evergreen forests rise high up the
mountain slopes. All that the region lacks is the wells of natural
gas, that invaluable natural source of power, light, and warmth, so
abundant in most of the Alleghany valleys. Villages and farms are
numerous up to the very borders of the mountain forests. Thus there
were many thousands of people threatened, if the Great Eyrie proved
indeed a volcano, if the convulsions of nature extended to Pleasant
Garden and to Morganton.
The mayor of Morganton, Mr. Elias Smith, was a tall man, vigorous and
enterprising, forty years old or more, and of a health to defy all
the doctors of the two Americas. He was a great hunter of bears and
panthers, beasts which may still be found in the wild gorges and
mighty forests of the Alleghanies.
Mr. Smith was himself a rich land-owner, possessing several farms in
the neighborhood. Even his most distant tenants received frequent
visits from him. Indeed, whenever his official duties did not keep
him in his so-called home at Morganton, he was exploring the
surrounding country, irresistibly drawn by the instincts of the
hunter.
I went at once to the house of Mr. Smith. He was expecting me, having
been warned by telegram. He received me very frankly, without any
formality, his pipe in his mouth, a glass of brandy on the table. A
second glass was brought in by a servant, and I had to drink to my
host before beginning our interview.
"Mr. Ward sent you," said he to me in a jovial tone. "Good; let us
drink to Mr. Ward's health."
I clinked glasses with him, and drank in honor of the chief of police.
"And now," demanded Elias Smith, "what is worrying him?"
At this I made known to the mayor of Morganton the cause and the
purpose of my mission in North Carolina. I assured him that my chief
had given me full power, and would render me every assistance,
financial and otherwise, to solve the riddle and relieve the
neighborhood of its anxiety relative to the Great Eyrie.
Elias Smith listened to me without uttering a word, but not without
several times refilling his glass and mine. While he puffed steadily
at his pipe, the close attention which he gave me was beyond
question. I saw his cheeks flush at times, and his eyes gleam under
their bushy brows. Evidently the chief magistrate of Morganton was
uneasy about Great Eyrie, and would be as eager as I to discover the
cause of these phenomena.
When I had finished my communication, Elias Smith gazed at me for
some moments in silence. Then he said, softly, "So at Washington they
wish to know what the Great Eyrie hides within its circuit?"
"Yes, Mr. Smith."
"And you, also?"
"I do."
"So do I, Mr. Strock."
He and I were as one in our curiosity.
"You will understand," added he, knocking the cinders from his pipe,
"that as a land-owner, I am much interested in these stories of the
Great Eyrie, and as mayor, I wish to protect my constituents."
"A double reason," I commented, "to stimulate you to discover the
cause of these extraordinary occurrences! Without doubt, my dear Mr.
Smith, they have appeared to you as inexplicable and as threatening
as to your people."
"Inexplicable, certainly, Mr. Strock. For on my part, I do not
believe it possible that the Great Eyrie can be a volcano; the
Alleghanies are nowhere of volcanic origins. I, myself, in our
immediate district, have never found any geological traces of scoria,
or lava, or any eruptive rock whatever. I do not think, therefore,
that Morganton can possibly be threatened from such a source."
"You really think not, Mr. Smith?"
"Certainly."
"But these tremblings of the earth that have been felt in the
neighborhood!"
"Yes these tremblings! These tremblings!" repeated Mr. Smith, shaking
his head; "but in the first place, is it certain that there have been
tremblings? At the moment when the flames showed most sharply, I was
on my farm of Wildon, less than a mile from the Great Eyrie. There
was certainly a tumult in the air, but I felt no quivering of the
earth."
"But in the reports sent to Mr. Ward--"
"Reports made under the impulse of the panic," interrupted the mayor
of Morganton. "I said nothing of any earth tremors in mine."
"But as to the flames which rose clearly above the crest?"
"Yes, as to those, Mr. Strock, that is different. I saw them; saw
them with my own eyes, and the clouds certainly reflected them for
miles around. Moreover noises certainly came from the crater of the
Great Eyrie, hissings, as if a great boiler were letting off steam."
"You have reliable testimony of this?"
"Yes, the evidence of my own ears."
"And in the midst of this noise, Mr. Smith, did you believe that you
heard that most remarkable of all the phenomena, a sound like the
flapping of great wings?"
"I thought so, Mr. Strock; but what mighty bird could this be, which
sped away after the flames had died down, and what wings could ever
make such tremendous sounds. I therefore seriously question, if this
must not have been a deception of my imagination. The Great Eyrie a
refuge for unknown monsters of the sky! Would they not have been seen
long since, soaring above their immense nest of stone? In short,
there is in all this a mystery which has not yet been solved."
"But we will solve it, Mr. Smith, if you will give me your aid."
"Surely, Mr. Strock; tomorrow we will start our campaign."
"Tomorrow." And on that word the mayor and I separated. I went to a
hotel, and established myself for a stay which might be indefinitely
prolonged. Then having dined, and written to Mr. Ward, I saw Mr.
Smith again in the afternoon, and arranged to leave Morganton with
him at daybreak.
Our first purpose was to undertake the ascent of the mountain, with
the aid of two experienced guides. These men had ascended Mt.
Mitchell and others of the highest peaks of the Blueridge. They had
never, however, attempted the Great Eyrie, knowing that its walls of
inaccessible cliffs defended it on every side. Moreover, before the
recent startling occurrences the Great Eyrie had not particularly
attracted the attention of tourists. Mr. Smith knew the two guides
personally as men daring, skillful and trustworthy. They would stop
at no obstacle; and we were resolved to follow them through
everything.
Moreover Mr. Smith remarked at the last that perhaps it was no longer
as difficult as formerly to penetrate within the Great Eyrie.
"And why?" asked I.
"Because a huge block has recently broken away from the mountain side
and perhaps it has left a practicable path or entrance."
"That would be a fortunate chance, Mr. Smith."
"We shall know all about it, Mr. Strock, no later than tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow, then."
Chapter 3
THE GREAT EYRIE
The next day at dawn, Elias Smith and I left Morganton by a road
which, winding along the left bank of the Catawba River, led to the
village of Pleasant Garden. The guides accompanied us, Harry Horn, a
man of thirty, and James Bruck, aged twenty-five. They were both
natives of the region, and in constant demand among the tourists who
climbed the peaks of the Blueridge and Cumberland Mountains.
A light wagon with two good horses was provided to carry us to the
foot of the range. It contained provisions for two or three days,
beyond which our trip surely would not be protracted. Mr. Smith had
shown himself a generous provider both in meats and in liquors. As to
water the mountain springs would furnish it in abundance, increased
by the heavy rains, frequent in that region during springtime.
It is needless to add that the Mayor of Morganton in his role of
hunter, had brought along his gun and his dog, Nisko, who gamboled
joyously about the wagon. Nisko, however, was to remain behind at the
farm at Wildon, when we attempted our ascent. He could not possibly
follow us to the Great Eyrie with its cliffs to scale and its
crevasses to cross.
The day was beautiful, the fresh air in that climate is still cool of
an April morning. A few fleecy clouds sped rapidly overhead, driven
by a light breeze which swept across the long plains, from the
distant Atlantic. The sun peeping forth at intervals, illumined all
the fresh young verdure of the countryside.
An entire world animated the woods through which we passed. From
before our equipage fled squirrels, field-mice, parroquets of
brilliant colors and deafening loquacity. Opossums passed in hurried
leaps, bearing their young in their pouches. Myriads of birds were
scattered amid the foliage of banyans, palms, and masses of
rhododendrons, so luxuriant that their thickets were impenetrable.
We arrived that evening at Pleasant Garden, where we were comfortably
located for the night with the mayor of the town, a particular friend
of Mr. Smith. Pleasant Garden proved little more than a village; but
its mayor gave us a warm and generous reception, and we supped
pleasantly in his charming home, which stood beneath the shades of
some giant beech-trees.
Naturally the conversation turned upon our attempt to explore the
interior of the Great Eyrie. "You are right," said our host, "until
we all know what is hidden within there, our people will remain
uneasy."
"Has nothing new occurred," I asked, "since the last appearance of
flames above the Great Eyrie?"
"Nothing, Mr. Strock. From Pleasant Garden we can see the entire
crest of the mountain. Not a suspicious noise has come down to us.
Not a spark has risen. If a legion of devils is in hiding there, they
must have finished their infernal cookery, and soared away to some
other haunt."
"Devils!" cried Mr. Smith. "Well, I hope they have not decamped
without leaving some traces of their occupation, some parings of
hoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out."
On the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn.
By the end of this second day, we expected to reach the farm of
Wildon at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same as
before, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods and
marshes alternated, though the latter grew sparser, being drained by
the sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also less
populous. There were only a few little hamlets, almost lost beneath
the beech trees, a few lonely farms, abundantly watered by the many
streams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River.
The smaller birds and beasts grew yet more numerous. "I am much
tempted to take my gun," said Mr. Smith, "and to go off with Nisko.
This will be the first time that I have passed here without trying my
luck with the partridges and hares. The good beasts will not
recognize me. But not only have we plenty of provisions, but we have
a bigger chase on hand today. The chase of a mystery."
"And let us hope," added I, "we do not come back disappointed
hunters."
In the afternoon the whole chain of the Blueridge stretched before us
at a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharply
outlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base, they grew
more bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. There
the scraggly trees, grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights a
bleak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharp
peaks. On our right the Black Dome, nearly seven thousand feet high,
reared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds.
"Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith?" I asked.
"No," answered he, "but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent.
A few mountaineers have climbed it; but they report that it has no
outlook commanding the crater of the Great Eyrie."
"That is so," said the guide, Harry Horn. "I have tried it myself."
"Perhaps," suggested I, "the weather was unfavorable."
"On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall of
the Great Eyrie on that side rose so high, it completely hid the
interior."
"Forward," cried Mr. Smith. "I shall not be sorry to set foot where
no person has ever stepped, or even looked, before."
Certainly on this day the Great Eyrie looked tranquil enough. As we
gazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame.
Toward five o'clock our expedition halted at the Wildon farm, where
the tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured us
that nothing notable had happened about the Great Eyrie for some
time. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm;
and our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled by
premonitions of the future.
On the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of the
mountain. The height of the Great Eyrie scarce exceeds five thousand
feet. A modest altitude, often surpassed in this section of the
Alleghanies. As we were already more than three thousand feet above
sea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hours
should suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course,
difficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, clefts
and breaks in the ridge might necessitate painful and even dangerous
detours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said,
our guides knew no more than we upon this point. What made me
anxious, was, of course, the common report that the Great Eyrie was
wholly inaccessible. But this remained unproven. And then there was
the new chance that a fallen block had left a breach in the rocky
wall.
"At last," said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of the
twenty or more which he smoked each day, "we are well started. As to
whether the ascent will take more or less time--"
"In any case, Mr. Smith," interrupted I, "you and I are fully
resolved to pursue our quest to the end."
"Fully resolved, Mr. Strock."
"My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of the
Great Eyrie."
"We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling," vowed Mr. Smith,
calling Heaven to witness. "Even if we have to search the very bowels
of the mountain."
"As it may happen, then," said I, "that our excursion will be
prolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions."
"Be easy, Mr. Strock; our guides have food for two days in their
knapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I left
my brave Nisko at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful in
the woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, and perhaps
at the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted."
"Already lighted, Mr. Smith?"
"And why not, Mr. Strock? These flames! These superb flames, which
have so terrified our country folk! Is their fire absolutely cold, is
no spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is truly
a crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find there
a single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano if it hasn't
enough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato. Come, I repeat, we
shall see! We shall see!"
At that point of the investigation I had, I confess, no opinion
formed. I had my orders to examine the Great Eyrie. If it proved
harmless, I would announce it, and people would be reassured. But at
heart, I must admit, I had the very natural desire of a man possessed
by the demon of curiosity. I should be glad, both for my own sake,
and for the renown which would attach to my mission if the Great
Eyrie proved the center of the most remarkable phenomena--of which I
would discover the cause.
Our ascent began in this order. The two guides went in front to seek
out the most practicable paths. Elias Smith and I followed more
leisurely. We mounted by a narrow and not very steep gorge amid rocks
and trees. A tiny stream trickled downward under our feet. During the
rainy season or after a heavy shower, the water doubtless bounded
from rock to rock in tumultuous cascades. But it evidently was fed
only by the rain, for now we could scarcely trace its course. It
could not be the outlet of any lake within the Great Eyrie.
After an hour of climbing, the slope became so steep that we had to
turn, now to the right, now to the left; and our progress was much
delayed. Soon the gorge became wholly impracticable; its cliff-like
sides offered no sufficient foothold. We had to cling by branches, to
crawl upon our knees. At this rate the top would not be reached
before sundown.
"Faith!" cried Mr. Smith, stopping for breath, "I realize why the
climbers of the Great Eyrie have been few, so few, that it has never
been ascended within my knowledge."
"The fact is," I responded, "that it would be much toil for very
little profit. And if we had not special reasons to persist in our
attempt."
"You never said a truer word," declared Harry Horn. "My comrade and I
have scaled the Black Dome several times, but we never met such
obstacles as these."
"The difficulties seem almost impassable," added James Bruck.
The question now was to determine to which side we should turn for a
new route; to right, as to left, arose impenetrable masses of trees
and bushes. In truth even the scaling of cliffs would have been more
easy. Perhaps if we could get above this wooded slope we could
advance with surer foot. Now, we could only go ahead blindly, and
trust to the instincts of our two guides. James Bruck was especially
useful. I believe that that gallant lad would have equaled a monkey
in lightness and a wild goat in agility. Unfortunately, neither Elias
Smith nor I was able to climb where he could.
However, when it is a matter of real need with me, I trust I shall
never be backward, being resolute by nature and well-trained in bodily
exercise. Where James Bruck went, I was determined to go, also;
though it might cost me some uncomfortable falls. But it was not the
same with the first magistrate of Morganton, less young, less
vigorous, larger, stouter, and less persistent than we others.
Plainly he made every effort, not to retard our progress, but he
panted like a seal, and soon I insisted on his stopping to rest.
In short, it was evident that the ascent of the Great Eyrie would
require far more time than we had estimated. We had expected to reach
the foot of the rocky wall before eleven o'clock, but we now saw that
mid-day would still find us several hundred feet below it.
Toward ten o'clock, after repeated attempts to discover some more
practicable route, after numberless turnings and returnings, one of
the guides gave the signal to halt. We found ourselves at last on the
upper border of the heavy wood. The trees, more thinly spaced,
permitted us a glimpse upward to the base of the rocky wall which
constituted the true Great Eyrie.
"Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Smith, leaning against a mighty pine tree, "a
little respite, a little repose, and even a little repast would not
go badly."
"We will rest an hour," said I.
"Yes; after working our lungs and our legs, we will make our stomachs
work."
We were all agreed on this point. A rest would certainty freshen us.
Our only cause for inquietude was now the appearance of the
precipitous slope above us. We looked up toward one of those bare
strips called in that region, slides. Amid this loose earth, these
yielding stones, and these abrupt rocks there was no roadway.
Harry Horn said to his comrade, "It will not be easy."
"Perhaps impossible," responded Bruck.
Their comments caused me secret uneasiness. If I returned without
even having scaled the mountain, my mission would be a complete
failure, without speaking of the torture to my curiosity. And when I
stood again before Mr. Ward, shamed and confused, I should cut but a
sorry figure.
We opened our knapsacks and lunched moderately on bread and cold
meat. Our repast finished, in less than half an hour, Mr. Smith
sprang up eager to push forward once more. James Bruck took the lead;
and we had only to follow him as best we could.
We advanced slowly. Our guides did not attempt to conceal their doubt
and hesitation. Soon Horn left us and went far ahead to spy out which
road promised most chance of success.
Twenty minutes later he returned and led us onward toward the
northwest. It was on this side that the Black Dome rose at a distance
of three or four miles. Our path was still difficult and painful,
amid the sliding stones, held in place only occasionally by wiry
bushes. At length after a weary struggle, we gained some two
hundred feet further upward and found ourselves facing a great gash,
which, broke the earth at this spot. Here and there were scattered
roots recently uptorn, branches broken off, huge stones reduced to
powder, as if an avalanche had rushed down this flank of the mountain.
"That must be the path taken by the huge block which broke away
from the Great Eyrie," commented James Bruck.
"No doubt," answered Mr. Smith, "and I think we had better follow the
road that it has made for us."
It was indeed this gash that Harry Horn had selected for our ascent.
Our feet found lodgment in the firmer earth which had resisted the
passage of the monster rock. Our task thus became much easier, and
our progress was in a straight line upward, so that toward half past
eleven we reached the upper border of the "slide."
Before us, less than a hundred feet away, but towering a hundred feet
straight upwards in the air rose the rocky wall which formed the
final crest, the last defence of the Great Eyrie.
From this side, the summit of the wall showed capriciously irregular,
rising in rude towers and jagged needles. At one point the outline
appeared to be an enormous eagle silhouetted against the sky, just
ready to take flight. Upon this side, at least, the precipice was
insurmountable.
"Rest a minute," said Mr. Smith, "and we will see if it is possible
to make our way around the base of this cliff."
"At any rate," said Harry Horn, "the great block must have fallen
from this part of the cliff; and it has left no breach for entering."
They were both right; we must seek entrance elsewhere. After a rest
of ten minutes, we clambered up close to the foot of the wall, and
began to make a circuit of its base.
Assuredly the Great Eyrie now took on to my eyes an aspect absolutely
fantastic. Its heights seemed peopled by dragons and huge monsters.
If chimeras, griffins, and all the creations of mythology had
appeared to guard it, I should have been scarcely surprised.
With great difficulty and not without danger we continued our tour of
this circumvallation, where it seemed that nature had worked as man
does, with careful regularity. Nowhere was there any break in the
fortification; nowhere a fault in the strata by which one might
clamber up. Always this mighty wall, a hundred feet in height!
After an hour and a half of this laborious circuit, we regained our
starting-place. I could not conceal my disappointment, and Mr. Smith
was not less chagrined than I.
"A thousand devils!" cried he, "we know no better than before what is
inside this confounded Great Eyrie, nor even if it is a crater."
"Volcano, or not," said I, "there are no suspicious noises now;
neither smoke nor flame rises above it; nothing whatever threatens an
eruption."
This was true. A profound silence reigned around us; and a perfectly
clear sky shone overhead. We tasted the perfect calm of great
altitudes.
It was worth noting that the circumference of the huge wall was about
twelve or fifteen hundred feet. As to the space enclosed within, we
could scarce reckon that without knowing the thickness of the
encompassing wall. The surroundings were absolutely deserted.
Probably not a living creature ever mounted to this height, except
the few birds of prey which soared high above us.
Our watches showed three o'clock, and Mr. Smith cried in disgust,
"What is the use of stopping here all day! We shall learn nothing
more. We must make a start, Mr. Strock, if we want to get back to
Pleasant Garden to-night."
I made no answer, and did not move from where I was seated; so he
called again, "Come, Mr. Strock; you don't answer."
In truth, it cut me deeply to abandon our effort, to descend the
slope without having achieved my mission. I felt an imperious need of
persisting; my curiosity had redoubled. But what could I do? Could I
tear open this unyielding earth? Overleap the mighty cliff? Throwing
one last defiant glare at the Great Eyrie, I followed my companions.
The return was effected without great difficulty. We had only to
slide down where we had so laboriously scrambled up. Before five
o'clock we descended the last slopes of the mountain, and the farmer
of Wildon welcomed us to a much needed meal.
"Then you didn't get inside?" said he.
"No," responded Mr. Smith, "and I believe that the inside exists only
in the imagination of our country folk."
At half past eight our carriage drew up before the house of the Mayor
of Pleasant Garden, where we passed the night. While I strove vainly
to sleep, I asked myself if I should not stop there in the village
and organize a new ascent. But what better chance had it of
succeeding than the first? The wisest course was, doubtless, to
return to Washington and consult Mr. Ward.
So, the next day, having rewarded our two guides, I took leave of Mr.
Smith at Morganton, and that same evening left by train for
Washington.
Chapter 4
A MEETING OF THE AUTOMOBILE CLUB
Was the mystery of the Great Eyrie to be solved some day by chances
beyond our imagining? That was known only to the future. And was the
solution a matter of the first importance? That was beyond doubt,
since the safety of the people of western Carolina perhaps depended
upon it.
Yet a fortnight after my return to Washington, public attention was
wholly distracted from this problem by another very different in
nature, but equally astonishing.
Toward the middle of that month of May the newspapers of Pennsylvania
informed their readers of some strange occurrences in different parts
of the state. On the roads which radiated from Philadelphia, the
chief city, there circulated an extraordinary vehicle, of which no
one could describe the form, or the nature, or even the size, so
rapidly did it rush past. It was an automobile; all were agreed on
that. But as to what motor drove it, only imagination could say; and
when the popular imagination is aroused, what limit is there to its
hypotheses?
At that period the most improved automobiles, whether driven by
steam, gasoline, or electricity, could not accomplish much more than
sixty miles an hour, a speed that the railroads, with their most
rapid expresses, scarce exceed on the best lines of America and
Europe. Now, this new automobile which was astonishing the world,
traveled at more than double this speed.
It is needless to add that such a rate constituted an extreme danger
on the highroads, as much so for vehicles, as for pedestrians. This
rushing mass, coming like a thunder-bolt, preceded by a formidable
rumbling, caused a whirlwind, which tore the branches from the trees
along the road, terrified the animals browsing in adjoining fields,
and scattered and killed the birds, which could not resist the
suction of the tremendous air currents engendered by its passage.
And, a bizarre detail to which the newspapers drew particular
attention, the surface of the roads was scarcely even scratched by
the wheels of the apparition, which left behind it no such ruts as
are usually made by heavy vehicles. At most there was a light touch,
a mere brushing of the dust. It was only the tremendous speed which
raised behind the vehicle such whirlwinds of dust.
"It is probable," commented the New Fork Herald, "that the extreme
rapidity of motion destroys the weight."
Naturally there were protests from all sides. It was impossible to
permit the mad speed of this apparition which threatened to overthrow
and destroy everything in its passage, equipages and people. But how
could it be stopped? No one knew to whom the vehicle belonged, nor
whence it came, nor whither it went. It was seen but for an instant
as it darted forward like a bullet in its dizzy flight. How could one
seize a cannon-ball in the air, as it leaped from the mouth of the
gun?
I repeat, there was no evidence as to the character of the propelling
engine. It left behind it no smoke, no steam, no odor of gasoline, or
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