Tomorrow We Disappear into the Unknown
I will not tell in every detail our voyage, nor will I tell of our week’s stay at Para. I will also mention very briefly our river journey, up a wide, slow-moving stream, in a steamer which was little smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic. Finally we reached the town of Manaos. Here we spent our time until the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions given to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprising events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my companions. I speak freely and leave the use of my material to you, Mr. McArdle, since this report must pass through your hands before it reaches the world.
Professor Summerlee turned out to be better equipped for the expedition than one would imagine at first sight. His tall, gaunt figure is insensible to fatigue. Though in his sixty-sixth year, I have never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the hardships which we had. In temper he is naturally acid and sceptical. From the beginning he has never doubted that Professor Challenger is an absolute fraud, that we are likely to get nothing but disappointment and danger in South America and ridicule in England. However, since landing from the boat he has found consolation[41] in the beauty and variety of the insect and bird life around him, for he is absolutely whole-hearted in his devotion to science. He spends his days in the woods with his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in examining the many specimens he has caught. He has been on several scientific expeditions in his youth, and the life of the camp and the canoe is nothing new to him.
Lord John Roxton is twenty years younger, but has something of the same spare physique as Professor Summerlee. Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech, and sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick to answer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a half-humorous fashion. His knowledge of the world, and very especially of South America, is surprising, and he has a whole-hearted belief in the possibilities of our journey. He has a gentle voice and a quiet manner, but behind it hides a capacity for furiousity and pitiless resolution. He spoke little of his own visits in Brazil and Peru, but I was very much amazed to find the excitement among the natives, who looked at him as their champion and protector. The deeds of the Red Chief, as they called him, had become legends among them.
These were that Lord John had found himself some years before in that no-man’s-land somewhere between Peru, Brazil, and Columbia. In this great a handful of villainous half-breeds dominated the country, turned the natives into slaves, terrorizing them with the most inhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india-rubber, which was then floated down the river to Para. Lord John Roxton made the stand for[42] the victims, and received nothing but threats and insults. He then formally declared war against the leader of the slave-drivers, armed the natives, and conducted a campaign, which ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breed and breaking down the system which he represented.
One useful result of his former experiences was that he could talk fluently in the Lingoa Geral, which is the peculiar talk, one-third Portuguese and two-thirds Indian, which is current all over Brazil.
I have said before that Lord John Roxton was obsessed with South America. He could not speak of that great country without admiration. Even the Professor’s cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from his thin face as he listened. He would tell the history of the mighty river so rapidly explored, and yet so unknown in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks.
“What is there?” he would cry, pointing to the north. “Wood and jungle. Who knows what it may shelter? And there to the south? A wilderness of dark forest, where no white man has ever been. The unknown is up against us on every side. Who will say what is possible in such a country? Why should old man Challenger not be right?” And the stubborn sneer would reappear on Professor Summerlee’s face, and he would sit, shaking his head in unsympathetic silence, smoking his pipe.
So much, for the moment, for my two white companions. But already we have enrolled certain retainers who may play no small part in what is to come. The first is a gigantic negro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse, and about as intelligent. We enlisted him at Para as he spoke English a little bit. There we also took Gomez and Manuel, two half-breeds,[43] as active and wiry as panthers. Both of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazon which we were about to explore, that was the reason Lord John decided to engage them. One of them, Gomez, had the further advantage that he could speak excellent English. These men were willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or to make themselves useful in any way at a payment of fifteen dollars a month. Besides these, we had hired three Mojo Indians from Bolivia, who are the most skilful at fishing and boat work of all the river tribes. The chief of these we called Mojo, after his tribe, and the others are known as Jose and Fernando. So three white men, two half-breeds, one negro, and three Indians made up the personnel of the little expedition which lay waiting for its instructions at Manaos before starting on its quest.
At last the day had come and the hour. We were seated round the cane table, on which lay a sealed envelope. Written on it, in the handwriting of Professor Challenger, were the words:
“Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party. To be opened at Manaos upon July 15th, at 12 o’clock precisely.”
Lord John had placed his watch upon the table beside him.
“We have seven more minutes,” he said.
Professor Summerlee gave an acid smile as he picked up the envelope in his gaunt hand.
“What can it possibly matter whether we open it now or in seven minutes?” said he. “It is all part of the same system of quackery,[44] for which I regret to say that the writer is notorious.”
“Oh, come, we must play the game according to rules,” said Lord John. “We are here by his good will, so it would be a bad form if we didn’t follow his instructions to the letter.”
“God knows what!” cried the Professor, bitterly. “I don’t know what is inside this envelope, but, unless it is something definite, I shall be much tempted to take the next down-river boat and catch the Bolivia at Para. After all, I have some more responsible work in the world than to follow instructions of a lunatic. Now, Roxton, surely it is time.”
“Time it is,” said Lord John. He opened it and drew a folded sheet of paper. This he carefully opened out and flattened on the table. It was a blank sheet. He turned it over. Again it was blank. We looked at each other in a bewildered silence, which was broken by a burst of sarcastic laughter from Professor Summerlee.
“What more do you want?” he cried. “The fellow is a self-confessed fraud. We have only to return home and report him as the shameless fraud that he is.”
“Invisible ink!” I suggested.
“I don’t think!” said Lord Roxton, holding the paper to the light. “No, there is no use deceiving yourself. Nothing has ever been written upon this paper.”
“May I come in?” boomed a voice from the veranda.
That voice! We sprang to our feet with a gasp of astonishment as Challenger, in a straw-hat with a coloured ribbon… Challenger, with his hands in his jacket-pockets and his canvas shoes daintily pointing as he walked… appeared in the open space before us. There he stood in the golden glow with all his old Assyrian luxuriance of beard, all his native insolence of drooping eyelids and intolerant eyes.
“I fear,” said he, taking out his watch, “that I am a few minutes too late. When I gave you this envelope I must confess that I had never intended that you should open it. It had been my fixed intention to be with you before the hour. I fear that it has given my colleague, Professor Summerlee, occasion to blaspheme.”