Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
PRISONERS UNDERGROUND.
“Breakfast! Breakfast! Come Wylde, turn out! All is ready for our sumptuous repast!”
A month has elapsed since my return from Mars and again the Doctor’s hand is upon my shoulder; he is shaking me violently. I rub my eyes, yawn, straighten up and stare about.
The sight is not a cheerful one. Surrounding me are the walls of a vast cavern, possessed of none of that beauty of caverns about which poets and novelists love to rave. There are no snowy stalactites nor glittering stalagmites, nothing but the black, ragged rock, all dripping with moisture where the gloom permits my eyes to penetrate. The floor is of sand, mingled with which are whitish fragments strewn in every direction; these, though they have long since lost their terrors, never cease to be disquieting; they are human bones; bones of men who lived out their lives in ages long gone by; a musty odor seems to arise from them; the air is damp and chilly; rheumatic pains rack my own unfortunate bones as I stagger to my feet.
“Don’t you want any breakfast?” asked the Doctor gloomily. “Not that I blame you much if you don’t, for the fodder we’ve been subsisting on these last four weeks is enough to make a horse sick. You had better come and take your share though, for there will be no more until to-morrow. If we ever expect to escape we must keep up the physical no matter how our spirits flag.”
“So you are beginning to acknowledge the existence of spirit, Doctor?” I said slyly.
“Pshaw! Don’t you begin nagging thus early in the day. I am reduced to the necessity of acknowledging it or quarrelling with you, George Wylde, and under the existing circumstances that would be a decided mistake.”
I said no more, but followed the Doctor through the chamber in which we now found ourselves, into a larger one where a fire burned and Ah Schow was steeping tea in an old earthern pot. Upon a huge fragment of rock cups, saucers and plates were laid and several lamas sat around devouring rice with their chopsticks. Walla bent over the fire near our cook, busily stirring the contents of a huge, smoke-begrimed vessel; the glow of the fire alone shed light upon the scene.
Such was my situation now after the lapse of many weary days—days lengthened into weeks until, as I have said, a month had passed.
Who can wonder if I own to an inward longing for a second inhalation from that golden tube; if I sometimes wish my life cord might have been severed; that I was back again with Maurice and Mr. Mirrikh in Mars?
But enough of this.
We were now in a vast cavern opening back into the side of a mountain, but just where on the face of God’s footstool this cavern was located, we did not know.
With us—by us I mean the Doctor and myself—were Padma and all his lamas save the one whom I had seen put the body of the old priest into the shute. That Walla and Ah Schow were likewise with us I have already said.
My return from Mars was to this cave. I opened my eyes to find the Doctor bending over me, using every effort to resuscitate what, as he assured me afterward, he fully believed to be a corpse; but he could scarcely have been more surprised when I rose up and spoke than I was to see him, for I had counted the Doctor as already dead.
His story was briefly told.
The Doctor boarded the car, and acting upon the information furnished him by Padma, started alone on his perilous journey. Of course I was immensely curious to learn how he had fared, but his description of the trip from the lamasery to the cavern was singularly vague.
“Upon my word, I can’t tell you much about it, George,” he said, when I came to question him. “I just held on to the rope and seemed to go with a rush. It was pitch dark, but there was plenty of air and the motion of the car not rapid enough to take my breath away; I thought I was never going to reach the end, when all at once the rope parted, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the bottom of the car, which had ceased to move.”
“And what did you do then?” I asked.
“Do! What could I do? It was all as dark as Erebus, and I hadn’t the remotest idea where I was.”
“You would have fared better if you had been less selfish and taken your chances with the rest of us,” I answered; and then I told him something of my own experiences—but not all. But I maintained stoutly that I had seen Maurice; that in spirit I had been to Mars.
He would not admit it, of course; but I hardly think he altogether doubted. Returning to his own story he went on to say that at first he wandered about in a state bordering on madness, for what could he do there alone in the darkness but wander on till strength failed and death came to his relief?
Frightful must have been his mental suffering in those awful moments; fortunately for him, however, he was not called upon to endure them long, for suddenly he saw a light flash through the gloom and hurrying to it beheld Ni-fan-lu.
But let the Doctor give the rest in his own words.
“I was amazed beyond all telling, George. There stood the fellow precisely as I had last seen him.
“ ‘How did you get here?’ ” I demanded.
“He threw up his hands upon seeing me and seemed even more startled than I was—I knew afterward that he believed me dead—I had to repeat my question a second time, and in answer he pointed to a square, box-like arrangement which projected through the wall of the cave, terminating a few inches above the floor.”
“My body came through there,” he said; “I inhaled the gas, left it, followed in spirit and took it up again.”
“I might have argued with him, but before I could even answer, Walla came shooting out of the box and fell at my feet. You can imagine my amazement, when after a moment I saw her rise up and begin rubbing her eyes like one just awakening. I questioned her, but she could tell me nothing; she did not even remember how she had started, but commenced to cry out for Maurice. While I tried to quiet her Maurice’s body came down, and after that yours, and after yours came Ah Schow, and then lama after lama; at length your grip came flying out and a lot of bags followed it. Last of all came Padma all tied up with rags, but I had grown used to it by this time, and what worried me most was that you showed no sign of returning consciousness like the rest. It alarmed Padma not a little, too, and he immediately hypnotized Walla and began to question her. Her answers did not surprise me a bit, for by this time I was prepared for anything. She said that you had gone to seek Maurice in Mars.”
Here, so far as can interest the reader, the Doctor’s narative ended. Two points, however, may be alluded to. The distance between the lamasery and the cavern, and the length of time during which I had remained unconscious after the appearance of my body at the other end of the shute.
Concerning the first, lam unfortunately not in position to furnish any information, for the Doctor had not thought to note the time while the excitement continued. One thing is certain, those strange underground inclines were many miles in length; as for myself, Philpot assured me that he watched over my body for more than an hour and had just about given me up, when all at once I looked at him and spoke his name.
Now all this talk took place beside Maurice’s body, which the Doctor and Ni-fan-lu had carefully conveyed to a rocky shelf on one side of the cavern, where I found it enveloped in that coarse bagging such as the Chinese wrap around tea chests. There was no change in the appearance of the face, nor had there been any as yet after the lapse of a full month. At night I slept beside it, by day Walla usually watched; between us both it was seldom left alone.
Whether or no the Doctor still believed Maurice dead I cannot positively say, for he had long since refused to discuss the matter. He freely admitted, however, that there was something very different from either death or the ordinary trance state about my friend’s condition; and he would sometimes sit by for a long time holding a pocket mirror before the nostrils—but never a sign of moisture came upon the glass, and yet at no time was the body absolutely cold. Indeed the Doctor assured me that he was satisfied that no true rigor mortis had come upon it. Once he urged me to let him try bleeding, but I grew so excited in my refusal that he never mentioned the matter again.
Such, briefly told, are the salient points connected with our arrival in this strange place; and now, before resuming the thread of my narrative, let me speak a few words about the cave itself.
It was of vast extent, reaching far back into the heart of the mountain, but no efforts at exploration had been made. Just how we could be on a mountain at all I could not understand, unless the country from Psam-dagong down toward Lh’asa has a gradual descent; but on a mountain we were, Padma assured us, surrounded by rocks on all sides saye one, and this one, when I first beheld it, I almost wished might be walled in too.
Here the cavern opened upon a roaring torrent, rushing down between perpendicular walls; foaming, boiling, tearing its way past the entrance like mad, with the water setting back into the cave for a distance of at least twenty feet.
Beyond we could see only a wall of gray granite, from which we were separated by the torrent.
“Our way lies there,” said the old lama, calmly, “but the flood is here before us. We shall have to wait for the water to fall.”
“But how are we to pass through that barrier?” I asked. “It is a pity that our bodies could not have been sent a little further on.”
“A pity indeed. This I did not anticipate; but it would have made no difference. We chose the only possible way of escaping from Psam-dagong.”
Let me mention that Padma made no allusion at any time to the octor’s mad action. With that quiet good sense he ever displayed, the old lama let the matter drop.
“Is there a way of passing through that wall?” asked the Doctor.
“Most certainly,” was the reply. “There is a passage directly through it leading down the mountain. From thence to Lh’asa the way is short and easy. Indeed the city might be discerned from the mountain tops beyond the river, could we but transport ourselves there.”
“Ah! If we only could!” I cried; “but tell me, father, this passage: is it below the water level now?”
“It is, my son; we can only possess our souls in patience till the waters fall.”
“And that will be when?”
“Buddha alone can answer.”
“And in the meantime how are we to subsist?”
“There are stores of rice and other provisions in the cavern here upon which we shall be obliged to draw. Of water we have enough and to spare.”
“And these provisions were placed here—when?”
“Years ago in anticipation of the bursting of the Dshambi-nor; still they are in good condition. I have examined them. Palatable they certainly are not, but they will sustain life.”
“But how are we to cross even when the water falls; is there not a deep ravine?”
“So deep, my son, that to gaze upon it as I saw it in my boyhood would fill your soul with terror. There was a bridge here then; since it has been swept away; we must find means, if we can, to construct another; but one thing weighs heavily on my mind: even if we do in the end manage to cross here, what will become of you?”
“Why do you ask? Shall we not go with you?”
“Children,” he said, gazing upon us pityingly, “so far as lies in my power I shall protect you, but know the worst. You are foreigners; worse still, you are English. The moment you pass through the gates of Lh’asa you will be seized and put to death. No Englishman has ever been known to enter the city save one, and he lost his life in the end. The law of our Chinese masters is most stringent. Your friend, Mr. Mirrikh, has left you no letter of safe conduct out of the country. It is simply impossible that you can ever escape from Thibet.”
Not until now had we known this, for we could not read the letter Mr. Mirrikh had given us, which proved so perfect an open sesame into this strange land. Padma proceeded to inform us that it only requested that we be passed to Psam-dagong, but it made no provision whatever for our return, and not under any circumstances would it save us once we were in Lh’asa.
It was a gloomy outlook. Padma’s reference to Mr. Moorcroft, who lived twelve years in Lh’asa in disguise, did not cheer us any.
Moorcroft arrived at Lh’asa by way of Ladak, in 1820. He wore the dress of a Mahommedan and managed to deceive the*police up to the last. Indeed his murder was the work of a mountain banditti, and not until his effects came to be examined was the fact of his being an Englishman known.
“By Jove, this is a bad business!” said the Doctor after Padma left us. “I’ve been expecting something of this sort, Wylde. The only thing left is for us to turn Buddhists. Oh, for the levitating powers of Mirrikh! Bless me! but those were not half bad days at the musty old Nagkon Wat. Would that they were back again. ”
But wishing could bring no change in our situation. Day after day while Walla and I watched by Maurice’s body the Doctor watched the water at the mouth of the cave.
For eight days it continued to rise, until at last, instead of extending twenty feet back into the cave it reached more than fifty. Very naturally we began to wonder if it would keep on rising and ultimately drown us out; but on the ninth day, to my intense relief, it began to fall, and after that kept on falling, until now it was below the entrance of the passage through the granite wall on the other side of the ravine, or canon, as I preferred to call it; we could still see the water rushing madly when we wished, but it was necessary to lean out of the cave to do this, for our rocky prison was now entirely dry.
Such was the situation on that morning when the Doctor called me to breakfast.
At my appearance Walla turned her share of the cooking over to Ah Schow and hastily retreated to take her place beside Maurice’s body. And in this connection I may as well say that my feelings toward the poor girl had long since assumed proper shape. The love which I, in my ignorance, thought I felt for her, I knew now belonged to another; to a being not of this world, whose very existence had become to me but a beautiful dream.
Thus Walla, no longer annoyed by the consciousness that I was always watching her, came to be upon very good terms with me; and although we spoke but seldom, we thoroughly understood each other so far as Maurice was concerned, and was not that enough?
There was nothing particularly remarkable about this day, except that it rained, and so long as the daylight lasted—it was precious little of it we saw—there was a steady drip at the mouth of the cave.
We had fallen into a regular routine by this time. Padma gathered his lamas about him at stated hours, and so far as they were able, the rules of the lamasery were preserved; prayer wheels were ground and spiritual instruction given. At first the Doctor undertook to explain something of Padma’s discourses, for every other day the venerable lama kindly consented to deliver them in Hindustani, which language several of his flock understood; but it was hard translating to me, and as the Doctor soon grew tired of the task, we gave it up.
When not engaged in religious exercises, the lamas kept themselves busy as best they could, and foremost among their occupations was the plaiting of long strips of hide, out of which it was intended to construct a bridge to throw across the cañon, though how this was to be accomplished I could not comprehend. The hides were found in the cave in the small chamber where the provisions had been stored. The former bridge was likewise of hide, Padma informed us, and these had been placed where we discovered them for the purpose of renewing it when necessary. But one thing I may say right here, we found it very difficult to draw much information about the country or the cave and its history from the old superior of Psam-dagong, for in spite of his friendly manner he seemed determined that in case we ever did succeed in leaving Thibet alive, it should be in utter ignorance about the land and its resources, so far as he was concerned. Often we questioned him on these points, but his replies were always vague and unsatisfactory, and the conversation was dropped as soon as possible. Perhaps, indeed, the old man’s life had been such a retired one that his information was but slight on matters other than of a spiritual nature; but the Doctor maintained, and I agreed with him, that he probably thought he acted under orders from the Grand Lama, for he would at times retire and be absent for hours, and upon his return declare that he had been in spirit to Lh’asa and in consultation with his superior. I give all this just as we received it at the time, and shall make no comments upon its probable truth or falsity. Once I asked him why during these visits he could not provide for our departure from the country, but he cut me short by saying that such things were impossible; that his conversations in spirit with his superior were only of a spiritual nature, that he could not even bring help to assist us in our leaving the cave.
Thus the days came and went, and the time drew near when our departure was to take place; indeed there was no reason why a move should not be made now, so far as I could see, for the bridge was complete and the water had fallen below the opening in the wall on the opposite side of the canon. Padma informed us, however, that nothing could be done until a certain holy day, and declined to tell us when this would come or how the bridge was to be thrown across the cañon. Indeed all his communications to us were involved in so much mystery that our anxiety became intense; yet we were powerless to do anything and tried to be as patient as circumstances would permit.
“There's something wrong about it all, George!” the Doctor kept saying. “With all his mildness and pretended fatherly interest in our welfare, I don’t trust Padma. We are foreigners, and the old fellow has all the prejudices of his race. Be very sure we shall never leave Thibet alive."
And such were some of the sayings and doings of the dreary days during which we remained prisoners underground.