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Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #60860.
The opening · free to read
We had lost all control of the wild balloon. It was driven ahead of the wind like a shred of rags, the car trailing behind at a fearful angle, for many of the ropes were broken and all the others were twisted in a hopeless tangle. Nearly all our ballast had fallen into the angry sea beneath us an hour after the storm first caught us in its whirl.
I could hear the ocean roaring and swashing, where its gigantic waves toppled over each other below. The sound must have been tremendous, for the wind blew such a howling gale that neither Ford nor I could make each other hear what we shouted two feet away.
Our hats were gone; Ford’s face was haggard, whenever the lightning revealed him in the gloom. So intense was the darkness that I could not even see the vast bag above us. When a great flash illuminated the heavens, directly ahead, I noted the monster globe full of gas, silhouetted blackly against the glare, and knew it was slightly leaking. A small three-cornered dent was in its side already. I also observed that the sea was hardly more than fifty feet below, churning milk-white foam in its fury out of liquid ebon waves of mountainous size. The sky seemed like a solid bank of black. The darkness that followed the flash absorbed even Ford. Yet I knew that while he clung to the basket with his right hand, as I had done for above an hour, he was nevertheless attempting with his left to heave out the bag of provisions and the blankets. I helped him at this and we rose perceptibly.
Where we were it was absolutely impossible even to guess. That the balloon was driving ahead at more than sixty miles an hour we had long been convinced. This had been the state of affairs throughout the night. I had lost all confidence in Ford’s calculations at the end of the seventeenth hour out from Burma, for the twist which the storm had given us then threw out or broke every reliable instrument we had, leaving not so much as a compass. I was not an aeronaut like Ford, yet I knew we were doomed, unless some change should occur, and that quickly.
Ford, by the light of a flash, had seen a rope which was sawing open a seam in the silk, as it slashed and writhed in the tornado. When another blinding illumination came, I saw him climbing up in the ring to cut this rope away. The car tilted more than before; I fully expected to go hurtling out at every jerk. Suddenly two ropes, worn to a thread, on the ring, parted without the slightest warning. The car gave a lurch and all but turned bottom-side up. I heard a cry, as I swung out full length, suspended by my arms, and was even slightly struck on the foot, as Ford went plunging down. The balloon shot upward, relieved of his weight, and I was alone.
How long I clung there, swinging far out behind the wounded machine, is more than I would dare to say. My arms finally ached so intensely I could scarcely endure the pain. Dangling ropes beat me like knouts, for a time, and then wrapped and twisted about me like coils of a snake. Obviously these must have supported my weight at the last, for in a spell of dizziness and weakness I lost my grip and then was conscious only a second, when I thought, with the utmost unconcern, my end had come. Like a dummy on the tail of a kite, I dragged below the wreck of the car and was whirled thus unconsciously on, above the hungry sea.
It might have been hours, it might have been days after this last moment of despair, when my brain began again to work. I can only describe the sensations which followed as a species of dream. I thought I was dead; it seemed as if my soul, or something, was at perfect rest in a region of loveliness. Whereas I had been chilled through and through by the storm, I was warm now and filled with comfort. Music, which might have been the rustling of leaves or the songs of birds, made itself heard. I could not see for my eyes remained closed; but a sense of delicious odours pervaded my being; I seemed also to float, as if on the air.
At length I opened my eyes. The dream continuing on me still, I lay perfectly quiet, gazing aloft into a sky of matchless beauty. Doubtless I remained in this position for more than half an hour. Then a bright bird flitted across my range of vision, and brought me back to things of earth. I was still bound about by a piece of rope. Everything came back to me sharply,—Ford, my friend, the scientist and daring balloonist, our start, the storm, his hurtling down to death, my own desperation, and then oblivion.
I was whole and sound, apparently. Removing the rope and attempting to sit erect, I found myself floundering for a second, in the top of a tree. The branch I was on let me drop. I fell toward the earth, made a grab for a limb, which somewhat broke my fall, and landed plump on the ground, in the midst of a circle of extraordinary beings.
Neither men nor apes, yet clearly creatures which were nearly the one and on the verge of being the other, these inhabitants of the place had evidently been observing my form, in a spirit of cautious curiosity, for a number now came swinging down from trees adjacent to the one I had occupied, and the ones upon the ground set up a series of singular cries.
Having landed on my feet, hatless, but otherwise stoutly clad, I threw my hand to my belt, instinctively, desiring to arm myself against possible aggression. I found only my knife remaining. This weapon I merely hauled around by sliding the belt, to bring the dagger directly beneath my hand. The creatures about me were a score or so in number, standing erect, apparently much excited, yet threatening no attack. Their movements were restless; their roundish, near-together eyes were constantly moving, like those of a monkey; they circled about me, uttering guttural monosyllables, with many inflections. Every one of them gripped in a powerful hand the haft of a rude sort of club, fashioned out of a rock, lashed firmly to the end of a stout piece of wood.
The mutual inspection between us lasted several minutes. I could detect but little difference between any two of the beings. They were nearly as tall as I, averaging about five feet six inches; they were thin, wiry, entirely naked, long-armed, flat-nosed, big-jawed and covered, on their legs and arms, with a thin and somewhat straggling growth of hair. Their skin was a reddish light-brown in colour; their feet were large, but much like hands, having the great toe set back like a thumb; their legs were slender and poorly shaped, but exceedingly muscular; their shoulders and backs were round.
One of the first to drop from a tree was a giant among them, a creature more than six feet tall, active as a panther, commanding in aspect, and possessing arms that reached fully to his knees. He carried a remarkable club which was made of a great chunk of rock-crystal, secured at the end of a polished bone, large and straight. This crystal still had its gleaming points and facets preserved; it therefore inspired me with a dread of the jagged hole it could smash in the skull of the largest animal.
Amazed as I was by what I saw, my astonishment was instantly increased when I observed the only female creature I had yet beheld. She issued from a copse and took her place beside the giant, who stood leaning on his club, eyeing myself nervously. She was a pure albino. Her hair, which was long and coarse, was as white as foam, her eyes were as pink as a rabbit’s; her complexion was florid red on white. With a rudimentary modesty, she stood partially concealed behind the giant, although she was “clothed” in a patch of skin from a pure white gull, in addition to a sort of rude necklace of claws.
What were they? Where was I? What would they do? These questions I asked myself rapidly a hundred times, as the creatures continued to edge about me and to chatter obvious comments. I could only answer what they were, and my premature conclusion may have been wide of the truth, yet I dubbed them Missing Links without the slightest hesitation.
For a space of at least ten minutes I was subjected to the closest scrutiny, during which time I kept the keenest possible watch on every movement, behind as well as before me. Resistance, however, would have been madness, had they closed in for a battle. There was evident indecision among these Links as to what they should do, and I was equally at a loss to determine what I most desired with regard to themselves. I now underwent another sensation. Pushing his way through the circle came a fat, waddling “fellow,” who afforded as great a contrast to the ordinary Links as did the female albino. He was entirely black. As if to render him quite grotesque, his legs were thick and bowed, his stomach was large and glistening, and his head was crowned with a skull, securely tied in place with thongs which passed beneath his chin. But his face was so irresistibly comical, with its broad, good-natured grin, that I smiled in actual forgetfulness of where I was.
At this he approached, holding forth in his hand a luscious fruit, the like of which I had never seen. A murmur—plainly of dissent, or warning—went up from his companions. Two or three made as if to drag him roughly back by the leg. I fancied I understood him to be an emissary of peace, and therefore deciding instantly that I preferred to be friendly, I took a step forward and held out my hand. With a look of gratitude, mingled with one of suspicious uncertainty, the fat chap gave me the fruit and capered clumsily away, out of possible reach.
Grunts of wonder and perhaps also of relief, greeted my acceptance of this overture of hospitality. The Links settled in their tracks, to see what would happen next, many of them standing with arms akimbo and glancing from me to the giant, rapidly, by which I concluded that he was a chieftain to whom they looked for a final decision of the case. Trusting that the action might create a salutary impression on the audience, I drew my knife from its scabbard and proceeded to cut away the thick, hard rind of the fruit, paying not the slightest attention to the exclamations which followed this exhibition of the sharpness and use of the gleaming blade. When the fruit was peeled, I put the knife away and ate as delicious and juicy a thing as ever a man has known, provoking thereby a feeling of undisguised pleasure in the Links and of apparent ecstasy in the breast of the fat one who had provided the breakfast.
“Now,” said I, when the thing was gone, “who are you fellows, and what do you want?”
I was surprised at myself for thus addressing this half-ape gathering, but they were smitten temporarily dumb at the sound of my voice. I made a gesture of cordiality and turned completely around in the circle, finally holding both my hands extended to the giant.
The chatter was instantly resumed. One of their “words,” in a language which seemed to me to be exceedingly limited and primitive, was, as nearly as pen can write it.
“Tzheck.”
Having caught this I attempted to repeat it, pointing to myself meantime with my thumb, for it occurred to my mind that they called not only myself but also their species by the name, and I desired to assure them I was “one of themselves,” for at least they were better than no companions in this unknown land.
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