Part 19 (2/2)

”Being a floating magnet, of course, did not prevent our sailing, so we went along well enough until we came to longitude 90, lat.i.tude 15 north. Now it so happened that a telegraphic cable which had been laid down by the British Government to establish communication between Madras and Rangoon, had broken some time before, and not very far from this point.

”Now you can see for yourselves that when an enormous ma.s.s of magnetic iron, in the shape of the _General Brooks_, came sailing along there, the part of that cable which lay under us was so attracted by such a powerful and irresistible force that its broken end raised itself from the bottom of the bay and reached upward until it touched our s.h.i.+p, when it laid itself along our keel, to which it instantly became fastened as firmly as if it had been bolted and riveted there. Then, as the rest of this part of the cable was on the bottom of the bay all the way to Madras, of course we had to stop; that's simple enough. That's the way the Water-devil held us fast in one spot for two days.

”The British Government determined not to repair this broken cable, but to take it up and lay down a better one; so they chartered a large steamer, and fitted her up with engines, and a big drum that they use for that sort of thing, and set her to work to wind up the Madras end of the broken cable. She had been at this business a good while before we were caught by the other end, and when they got near enough to us for their engines to be able to take up the slack from the bottom between us and them, then of course they pulled upon us, and we began to move. And when they lay to for the night, and stopped the winding business, of course we stopped, and the stretch of cable between the two s.h.i.+ps had no effect upon us, except when the big mail steamer happened to move this way or that, as they kept her head to the wind; and that's the way we lay quiet all night except when we got our shocks.

”When they set the drum going again in the morning, it wasn't long before they wound us near enough for them to see us, which they would have done sooner if my lights hadn't gone out so early in the evening.”

”And that,” said the blacksmith, with a somewhat severe expression on his face, ”is all that you have to tell about your wonderful Water-devil!”

”All!” said the marine; ”I should say it was quite enough, and nothing could be more wonderful than what really happened. A Water-devil is one of two things: he is real, or he's not real. If he's not real, he's no more than an ordinary spook or ghost, and is not to be practically considered. If he's real, then he's an alive animal, and can be put in a cla.s.s with other animals, and described in books, because even if n.o.body sees him, the scientific men know how he must be constructed, and then he's no more than a great many other wonderful things, which we can see alive, stuffed, or in plaster casts.

”But if you want to put your mind upon something really wonderful, just think of a snake-like rope of wire, five or six hundred miles long, lying down at the very bottom of the great Bay of Bengal, with no more life in it than there is in a ten-penny nail.

”Then imagine that long, dead wire snake to be suddenly filled with life, and to know that there was something far up above it, on the surface of the water, that it wants to reach up to and touch. Think of it lifting and flapping its broken end, and then imagine it raising yard after yard of itself up and up, through the solemn water, more and more of it lifting itself from the bottom, curling itself backward and forward as it rises higher and higher, until at last, with a sudden jump that must have ripped a mile or more of it from the bottom, it claps its end against the thing it wants to touch, and which it can neither see, nor hear, nor smell, but which it knows is there. Could there be anything in this world more wonderful than that?

”And then, if that isn't enough of a wonder, think of the Rangoon end of that cable squirming and wriggling and stretching itself out toward our s.h.i.+p, but not being able to reach us on account of a want of slack; just as alive as the Madras part of the cable, and just as savage and frantic to get up to us and lay hold of us; and then, after our vessel had been gradually pulled away from it, think of this other part getting weaker and weaker, minute by minute, until it falls flat on the bay, as dead as any other iron thing!”

The marine ceased to speak, and Mrs. Fryker heaved a sigh.

”It makes me s.h.i.+ver to think of all that down so deep,” she said; ”but I must say I am disappointed.”

”In what way?” asked the marine.

”A Water-devil,” said she, ”as big as six whales, and with a funnelly mouth to suck in people, is different; but, of course, after all, it was better as it was.”

”Look here,” said the blacksmith, ”what became of the girl? I wanted her finished up long ago, and you haven't done it yet.”

”Miss Minturn, you mean,” said the marine. ”Well, there is not much to say about her. Things happened in the usual way. When the danger was all over, when she had other people to depend upon besides me, and we were on board a fine steamer, with a lot of handsomely dressed naval officers, and going comfortably to Madras, of course she thought no more of the humble sea-soldier who once stood between her and--n.o.body knew what. In fact, the only time she spoke to me after we got on board the English steamer, she made me feel, although she didn't say it in words, that she was not at all obliged to me for supposing that she would have been scared to death if I had told her about the Water-devil.”

”I suppose,” said the blacksmith, ”by the time you got back to your s.h.i.+p you had overstayed your leave of absence a good while. Did your captain let you off when you told him this story of the new-fas.h.i.+oned Water-devil?”

The marine smiled. ”I never went back to the _Apache_,” he said. ”When I arrived at Madras I found that she had sailed from Calcutta. It was, of course, useless for me to endeavor to follow her, and I therefore concluded to give up the marine service for a time and go into another line of business, about which it is too late to tell you now.”

”Mr. Cardly,” said Mr. Harberry to the school-master, ”have you ever read that the British Government has a submarine cable from Madras to Rangoon?”

The marine took it upon himself to answer this question. ”The cable of which I spoke to you,” he said, ”was taken up, as I told you, and I never heard that another one was laid. But it is getting late, and I think I will go to bed; I have a long walk before me to-morrow.” So saying he rose, put his pipe upon the mantel-piece, and bade the company good night. As he did so, he fixed his eyes on the blacksmith's daughter, but that young lady did not look at him; she was busily reading the weekly newspaper, which her father had left upon the table.

Mr. Harberry now rose, preparatory to going home; and as he b.u.t.toned up his coat, he looked from one to another of the little group, and remarked, ”I have often heard that marines are a cla.s.s of men who are considered as fit subjects to tell tough stories to, but it strikes me that the time has come when the tables are beginning to be turned.”

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