The unhappy Siswani had thus been exposed for fully five hours, when von Schalckenberg at length stood beside him, and his body was completely hidden beneath a swarming mass of ants, the collective movements of which suggested a horrible wave-like creeping movement to the surface of the body. Apart from this, however, an occasional writhing of the frightfully swollen form and limbs showed that life and feeling still remained. But it was, perhaps, the mouth of the sufferer that bore most eloquent testimony to the extremity of the tortured body's anguish: it had been forced wide open by the introduction of a thick gag of hard wood, and into this the strong teeth had bitten until they were ground to fragments, while the lips were drawn back in a fearful grin.

Upon this awful object Lobelalatutu cast a single glance, and then made a dart at the nearest of the spears that had been flung away by the flying guard, with which he quickly cut the thongs that bound the victim, and those that secured the gag, removing the latter from the sufferer's mouth. Then, raising the quivering body in his arms, he bent down and murmured a few words in his friend's ear. There was no reply; and, looking closer, the chief saw enough to convince him that the unhappy Siswani's hearing was already completely destroyed. Lobelalatutu had been reared in a school in which stoical indifference to suffering, whether personal or in another, is esteemed a cardinal virtue; yet even he could not wholly conceal the emotion which possessed him as he turned to von Schalckenberg and drew the attention of the professor to the ghastly injuries already inflicted by the terrible ants.

"Great Spirit," said he, "you are very powerful, I know, for I have seen you do many wonderful things. Can you give Siswani new eyes and ears, new flesh in place of that which has disappeared? Can you extract the poison from his body, and make him whole again, even as he was when the dawn came into this morning's sky?"

"No," answered the professor, sorrowfully. "We can do many wonderful things, as you say, Lobelalatutu, but we cannot create a man anew. We can cure many diseases; we can heal many kinds of wounds; but our power as yet stops short of repairing such frightful injuries as those. The utmost that we can do is to ease Siswani of his pain so that he may die in peace."

"You cannot save his life?" demanded the chief; and there was a note of keen anguish and fierce sorrow in his accents as he asked the question.

"I do not say that," answered von Schalckenberg. "It may be possible. But blind, deaf, dumb, as he is, what will life be worth to him, even if I can preserve it?"

"True, O Spirit," answered Lobelalatutu. "It would be worthless to him, nay, worse, it would be a torment to him; for memory would remain to him to remind him constantly of what he was, as compared with what he now is. And he could do nothing for himself; he would be dependent upon others for every morsel of food, every drop of water that went to sustain a worthless and miserable life. There is but one act of kindness that can now avail him, and I, Lobelalatutu, will do it for him, even as I would pray him to do the like for me, were I as he is!"

And ere von Schalckenberg could intervene, the savage, with a quick movement, raised the spear he held in his hand and, with unerring aim, drove it deep through the heart of his friend! Siswani's disfigured body responded to the stroke with a scarcely perceptible shudder; a faint sigh escaped the distorted lips; and the victim's sufferings were at an end.

"The coup-de-grace! the stroke of mercy; the act of a friend indeed," remarked von Schalckenberg, as he rose to his feet and turned to meet Sir Reginald, whose exclamation of horror was the first intimation of his contiguity to the other two. "Look at that poor mutilated and disfigured remnant of what, a few hours ago, was a man, in the prime of life, and in the full enjoyment of perfect health and strength; consider what the future must have been to such a man, so mutilated—even had it been possible to retain the life in him, which I gravely doubt—and then say whether this man, his friend, has not done the best that it was possible to do. Yet, would you, my friend, hampered with the sentimentality of your civilisation, have had the moral courage to do the like?"

"How long do you think he would have lived, but for that stroke of the spear?" asked Sir Reginald.

Von Schalckenberg shrugged his shoulders.

"Who can say?" he retorted. "Had he been left alone, he would perhaps have lingered in indescribable agony until sunset, when the poison in his system would have done its work, and he would have died. On the other hand, had I employed my utmost skill, and been free to give my undivided attention to him for, say, a month, I might, perhaps, have been so far successful as to have prolonged his life to the extent of two or three years; during which—deaf, dumb, blind, utterly helpless, and every movement a torture to him—he would have been dependent upon others for the necessities of life."

"Then," said Sir Reginald, "if I could know that the condition which you have described was the best that the future held in store for him, I would have put my sentimentality in my pocket and—"

"Quite so," assented the professor, with a nod; "and, in my opinion, your act would have been a meritorious one. Well, we were hours too late to be of any use to the poor fellow; but it may be that we shall still be in time to punish his murderer and the murderer of those fourteen unhappy white people who died to gratify the ferocious instincts of a savage despot. Let us be going. Come," he added, laying his hand upon Lobelalatutu's naked shoulder, "we shall need you while doing the work that lies before us. After we have finished you can send out men to do what is necessary here."

And, with a very grim expression of face, he turned and led the way to the Flying Fish.

Ten minutes later the ship came gently to earth in the Great Place before M'Bongwele's palace. The village appeared at first sight to be deserted, for not a soul was to be seen in any direction; but the low wail of an infant, suddenly breaking in upon the silence, and issuing from one of the huts, betrayed the fact that at least one small atom of humanity still lingered about the place; and where so small a baby was, the mother would probably be not far off.

The five white men—each with his rifle in his hand, as a safeguard against possible accident—stared about them in perplexity.

"What has happened, Lobelalatutu; what has become of your people?" demanded the professor.

"They are hiding in their huts," answered the chief. "They remember what happened when the Four Spirits last visited us, and they are afraid!"

"So!" ejaculated the professor. "Well, call to them, Lobelalatutu, and bid them come forth; we have somewhat to say to them."

The chief advanced to the gangway, where he could be clearly seen, and in a loud voice called upon every man to come forth into the open to listen to what the Four Spirits of the Winds had to say to them. And, in reply, first one, then another came creeping reluctantly out of the huts, until at length the Great Place was full of people, all standing with their eyes fixed upon the figures of the four well-remembered "spirits," and the fifth who now stood beside them. A low hum of subdued conversation arose from the densely massed crowd, for a minute or two, but it presently subsided; and all waited breathlessly for the communication to which they had been summoned to listen.

Von Schalckenberg permitted the silence to last long enough to become almost oppressive; then he advanced to the gangway and, waving his hand, demanded—

"Children of the Makolo, how many of your number are absent?"

For a full minute dead silence followed upon this question; then a man, whose dress and weapons proclaimed him a chief, strode forward and replied—

"We are all present, O most potent Spirit, save fifty of the king's guards, who went forth this morning to execute the king's sentence upon Siswani."

"Say you so?" retorted the professor. "Where, then, is M'Bongwele? How is it that I do not see him?"

"Au!" exclaimed the chief, "the king abides in his palace. He comes not forth at the bidding of strangers."

"Does he not?" retorted von Schalckenberg. "Yet shall he come forth at my bidding. Go, now, Lobelalatutu; descend the ladder to your people; take as many men as may be needful, and bring forth M'Bongwele, that we, the Four Spirits, may judge him, and punish him for his crimes. Go, and fear not,"—for Lobelalatutu rather hung back, as though somewhat uncertain in regard to the matter of his safety—"you are under our protection; and the man who foolishly dares to raise hand against you incurs our displeasure, and will instantly fall dead!"

Thus assured, Lobelalatutu hesitated no longer, but, calling to certain friends of his to support him, boldly descended the ladder—which Mildmay took the precaution to draw up instantly—and, accompanied by some eight or ten other chiefs, proceeded to push his way through the throng toward the king's palace, while a confused hum and murmur of excited conversation arose from the crowd.

Suddenly, the chief who had replied to von Schalckenberg's questions, sprang forward, and raising his right hand, with a sheaf of spears in its grasp, above his head, shouted—

"Warriors of the Makolo, what is this? Why stand ye, silent, before these strangers, as cattle stand before a hungry lion? Who are they, that they dare come hither to dictate to us and our king? Once before have they been here, and—"

As though unexpectedly pushed by some one behind, he suddenly fell forward on his face, dead! while von Schalckenberg composedly lowered his rifle from his shoulder.

"It had to be done," he explained to his companions, meanwhile keeping his gaze steadily fixed upon the crowd of savages beneath him. "In another second or two those fellows down there would have been divided into two parties, and we should have had a pitched battle raging at our feet, with a loss of hundreds of lives. Evidently, the fellow was one of the king's friends, and can, therefore, very well be spared."

"Quite right, Professor," answered Lethbridge. "You forestalled me by a second or two only. If you had not fired, I should have done so, for I saw that the fellow meant mischief."

As the chief fell prone before them, the excited crowd of savages became suddenly silent and rigid. Then von Schalckenberg waved his hand toward the motionless figure, and said in solemn and impressive tones—

"So perish those who presume to dispute the will of the Four Spirits! Let no one touch him, but let him lie there as a warning to other rebellious natures—if such, perchance, should be among you."

At this moment, Lobelalatutu and his band reappeared, with M'Bongwele in their midst. The king's heavy features wore a sullen, savage expression as he was led forward through the narrow lane that the assembled warriors opened out for his passage; and he threw upward a single glance of mingled fear and defiance at the little group of white men as he advanced. As he reached the open space that intervened between the ship and the thickly massed crowd of his people, and came to a halt, he looked quickly about him, and suddenly demanded, in a loud, harsh tone of voice—

"Where is Malatambu? Let him stand forth!"

"Behold, he lies there, dead, slain by the mighty magic of the Great Spirits!" answered a chief, pointing to the prostrate body of the man who had fallen before the professor's rifle.

The king threw a single keen glance at the dead man, grunted inarticulately, and was silent.

"Listen, M'Bongwele!" said von Schalckenberg. "How is it that, having banished you for your former evil deeds, we find you here again upon our return?"

"I was unhappy away from my people, and therefore I returned," answered the king, sullenly.

"And, having returned, your first act was to slay Seketulo. Is it not so?" demanded the professor.

"Why should I not slay him?" retorted M'Bongwele. "The Makolo need not two kings; and Seketulo knew not how to govern them."

"Therefore you slew him?" persisted the professor.

"Therefore I slew him," assented M'Bongwele.

"Also you slew twelve white men and two white women who were found in distress by your people, although you knew that such acts were displeasing to us, and that we had forbidden them," asserted the professor.

"Nay," said M'Bongwele; "I slew but the twelve white men. Of the two women, the elder slew the younger, and then slew herself. But what matters it how they died? Am not I the king; and may I not do as I will in mine own country?"

"And how died the white men?" demanded von Schalckenberg.

"Some died on ants' nests; some were crucified; some were—nay, how can I say? It is long ago, and I have forgotten," answered the king, sullenly.

"And they are not the only people who have died in torment since your return. Many of your own people have suffered at your word. Is it not so?"

"It is so," answered the king. "They were rebellious subjects; so they perished."

"How knew you that they were rebellious?" demanded von Schalckenberg.

"My witch-doctors told me so. Is that not enough?" retorted M'Bongwele.

"And how knew the witch-doctors that they were rebellious?" inquired the professor.

"They found it out through their magic; even as you, through your magic, found out that I had returned to my people," answered the king.

"Are those witch-doctors present? If so, let them stand forth," exclaimed the professor.

For a space of two or three minutes there was no direct reply to this challenge, but merely a subdued commotion among the assembled multitude of warriors. Then the professor, growing impatient, called to Lobelalatutu.

"Are the witch-doctors present, Lobelalatutu?"

"Nay, Great Spirit, they are not present. Doubtless they are to be found in their huts," answered the chief, saluting.

"Then, take men with you to those huts, find the witch-doctors, bind them with thongs, and bring them forth to judgment," commanded von Schalckenberg.

A few minutes of dead silence now followed, at the end of which there arose, among the more distant huts, outcries and sounds of commotion, and presently the chief and his party reappeared, leading forth ten old and grizzled men of most villainously cunning and repulsive appearance, whose hands were bound behind them. These were brought to the front and ranged in line by the side of the king.

The professor looked at them intently for a full minute, they returning his look with an insolent glare of defiance. Then he said—

"Which of you is the chief of the witch-doctors?"

"I, even I, M'Pusa, am the chief witch-doctor. What want ye with me, white man?" answered the most hideously repulsive-looking individual of the party, sending a look of concentrated hatred and vindictiveness upward at the professor.

"It is charged against you that you have cruelly and maliciously incited the man M'Bongwele—who falsely calls himself 'king'—to condemn many people to suffer death by torture, under the pretence that they were conspiring against him, knowing all the while that your accusations were false. What explanation or excuse have you to offer for your wickedness?" demanded the professor, sternly.

The man pondered for a moment, as though considering what answer he should make. At length he looked up, and said—

"Why should I make excuse? The men were my enemies, and I used such power as I possessed to destroy them."

"It is enough," said von Schalckenberg.

Then, addressing the great assemblage before him, he continued—

"Men of the Makolo, ye have heard the questions that I have put to these two men, and the answers that they have given to those questions. They have acknowledged that the charges brought against them are true. They have taken many lives, doomed many to die in lingering torment for the mere gratification of their own personal enmity and their love of cruelty. Out of their own mouths are they judged and condemned; they have misused their power, and therefore is it taken from them. They have wantonly taken the lives of others, therefore are their own lives forfeit. The sentence passed upon them is that they die a shameful and ignominious death. Take them, therefore, fasten strong ropes about their necks, and hang them both from the great branch of yonder tree until they be dead."

Dead! The word touched M'Bongwele and stirred him as could no other word in his own or any other language. He? Dead? And by the hands of others? How many of his unresisting subjects had he condemned to suffer death—the death of acute lingering, long-drawn-out, seemingly interminable suffering? And how he had laughed with ferocious glee when he had succeeded in making some of them—not many, only one or two occasionally—quail at the prospect of what lay before them! But he had never dreamed of a day when he himself should be doomed to suffer the ignominy of public execution. How should he? Was he not the king? and was his word not the law? Who should dare to raise a hand against him? The idea seemed to him preposterous, grotesque, an absurdity, until he glanced upward and saw those set, stern white faces gazing down upon him with eyes in which he read the truth that his doom was fixed, immutable, inexorable. Involuntarily he shuddered, and glanced wildly about him as though looking for a way of escape. Would his own people stand tamely by and see him, their king, perish at the word of these mysterious, terrible strangers? Or would a single one of them dare to lay sacrilegious hands upon him in obedience to the order of these strangers? With the half-formed hope that generations of iron discipline and unquestioning obedience to the king's will might yet avail to protect him in the moment of his utmost need, his glance searched face after face. In vain! He had allowed his tyranny to carry him so far that at length there was scarce a man among those present who could say with certainty that his own life would not be the next demanded to satisfy some savage whim of the king. There were not twenty among all those hundreds who would raise a hand to save him! Too late he saw the full depth of his rash, headstrong, criminal folly, and to what straits it had led him; and, suddenly snatching a spear from the hand of one of his astonished and unwary guards, he strove to drive its point into his own heart. But the owner of the spear recovered himself in a flash, and, seizing the blade of the weapon in his bare hand, he twisted it upward with such strength that the slender wooden shaft snapped, leaving the head in his hand and the innocuous shaft in that of M'Bongwele. At the same instant half a dozen men flung themselves upon the king, and in a trice his hands were drawn behind him, and securely bound. Then, from somewhere, two long thongs or ropes of twisted raw-hide were produced and quickly knotted round the necks of the two condemned men, and in a tense, breathless silence they were led away to the fatal tree.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE KING'S NECKLACE.

With the return of Lobelalatutu from his gruesome task, and while the bodies of M'Bongwele and M'Pusa still swung from the tree, the professor turned to his friends and said—

"Having disposed of one king, the onus now rests upon us of appointing another. The question consequently arises: What is to govern us in the somewhat delicate task of choosing a suitable man?"

"Yes," agreed Sir Reginald; "and it is a somewhat difficult question to answer: very much too difficult to answer offhand. We want a man—"

"Excuse me for interrupting you, old chap," broke in Lethbridge; "but I should like to offer a suggestion, based upon my knowledge of the peculiarities of the savage mind, as acquired in various out-of-the-way corners of the globe. In the light of what this chief, Lobelalatutu, has told us to-day, I am of opinion that we made a rather serious mistake when, on the occasion of our last visit here, we appointed Seketulo as king without consulting the wishes of the other chiefs. I would therefore suggest that we instruct the chiefs to hold a pow-wow to-night for the purpose of deciding upon, and submitting to us to-morrow, the names of such individuals as they consider suitable for the position. What say you, Professor? You, too, have had some experience with natives; what do you think of my plan?"

"I think it excellent in every way," answered the professor, heartily; "so excellent, indeed, that I very strongly support it."

"All right," agreed Sir Reginald; "I can see no possible objection to the scheme. What do you say, Colonel, and you—Hillo! what has become of Mildmay?"

"It would not very profoundly surprise me if it should be found that he is below, doing his best to entertain the ladies," observed Lethbridge, with a grin. "And, if so, there is really no need to disturb him; he is sure to agree to anything that we may decide upon. What think you of our plan, Colonel?"

"Well, really, I have had so little experience in matters of the kind, that I do not feel competent to express an opinion. But since my very excellent friend, von Schalckenberg, so thoroughly approves of it, I am certain that it must be a good one," answered Sziszkinski.

"Very good, then; that is settled. Will you tell those fellows down there, Professor?" said Sir Reginald.

Von Schalckenberg did so, and then dismissed the people to their huts, commanding the chief, Lobelalatutu, however, to ascend to the deck again for a few minutes, as they had one or two further questions to put to him.

"And now," remarked the professor, as the chief joined them, "our next business, I take it, is to discover who were those unfortunate white people who died under such barbarous circumstances, to amuse M'Bongwele and set his jealous fears at rest."

"Certainly," agreed Sir Reginald. "It is our manifest duty to do so. And, if we can identify any of them, it will also be our painful duty to make public the particulars of their most miserable fate, and, if possible, communicate with their relatives; also to despatch to those relatives any relics that they may have left behind them. Ask Lobelalatutu if he happens to know what became of the poor souls' belongings."

Von Schalckenberg put the question, and learned in reply that whatever may have belonged to the unhappy party would undoubtedly be found in the king's palace.

"Of course," remarked the professor, "we might have guessed as much! Well, is there anything more that we wish to ask our black friend?"

"Ask him whether any portion of the wreck still exists, and, if so, where it is to be found," suggested Sir Reginald.

The professor and Lobelalatutu conversed together for a few minutes, and then the former, turning to his companion, said—

"The chief tells me that the wreck has disappeared, but that he can point out to us the spot where it lay. I think we ought to examine it, do not you?"

"Undoubtedly," agreed Sir Reginald. "We may perhaps be able to go over and take a look at it to-morrow, after this matter of the choice of a new king is settled. Meanwhile, there goes the luncheon-bell. After lunch we might give the 'palace' an overhaul, and see what we can find of interest there."

So it was arranged, and Lobelalatutu then received his dismissal.

In accordance with Sir Reginald's suggestion, he, the professor, Lethbridge, and Colonel Sziszkinski quietly left the ship that same afternoon, about three o'clock, to institute a search in the palace for any relics of the shipwrecked party that M'Bongwele might have preserved. Mildmay very willingly agreed to remain on board the ship to keep the ladies company, and see, generally, that nothing went amiss with them.

But before they left the ship, von Schalckenberg handed to each of the party a small box, about half the size of this book.

"Our experiences in the forest, the other day, when we were lost there," said he, "suggested to me the importance of providing some means of communicating with the ship—and with each other, if need be—under similar circumstances, and the outcome of my cogitations upon the subject is these little boxes, which are all precisely alike."

He opened the one he held in his hand, and proceeded to explain the use of the instrument.

"It is very simple," he said. "Let us assume that you wish to communicate with the ship. You draw your box from your pocket, and press firmly upon this small black knob, thus: and a bell instantly rings in the pilot-house, and in every one of the habitable chambers of the ship—for I have coupled them all up together in order that, wherever the occupants of the ship may be, they will hear at least one of the bells, and will know that one of us is calling. Incidentally I may mention that a bell will at the same time ring in each of our instruments. Listen!"

The professor pressed the knob of his own instrument; and as he did so the sound of many bells, not very loud, but still perfectly distinct, came to them from every part of the ship, and also from the instrument that each man held in his hand.

"So!" said von Schalckenberg. "Now, when any of us hears the sound of the bell in his instrument, he at once withdraws that instrument from his pocket, and touches the small red knob. This stops the ringing of his own particular bell—as you may ascertain by experiment—and at the same time informs the other person—by the momentary stoppage of his bell—that some one is in touch with him. Then the person who desires to communicate proceeds somewhat in this fashion. Releasing his pressure on the black knob, he draws out this small tube from the box, inserts its nozzle into his ear, and says into this mouthpiece—

"'Hillo, there! Are you the Flying Fish?'

"'No,' comes the answer. 'I am von Schalckenberg.'

"'Thanks! I want the Flying Fish,' you say; and you press your black knob again until you get a reply from the ship."

"Why, what a splendid little device!" exclaimed Sir Reginald. "When did you invent this, Professor?"

"I thought it out that day when we were lost in the forest, and I made my first experimental instrument the next day. It is a wireless telephone; and it is powerful enough, I believe, to permit of intelligible conversation over a space of about fifty miles. But I cannot speak with certainty on that point without subjecting the instrument to actual trial. It is very roughly made, as you see, but if it answers its purpose, it will serve until we can get smaller and neater ones made."

"Precisely. Utility before beauty, eh, Professor?" remarked Lethbridge. "Not," he added, "but that this is neat and handy enough for anything. Well, we need never fear being lost again, I think; for it would be hard if, with these little instruments to ring up our friend Mildmay, we could not give him some sort of a clue as to the direction in which to look for us. And now, I suppose, we may as well go."

It was but a few steps from the ship to the "palace," which, after all, was only a somewhat larger hut than any of the rest, and a couple of minutes sufficed the party to reach it. They found it unoccupied, for the king's wives were lodged in an adjoining hut, from which, as the four white men neared it, they became aware of a subdued sound of wailing, which they correctly interpreted as the mourning of the ladies over the tragic end of their lord and master. The interior of the palace consisted of but one circular apartment, some twenty-five feet in diameter, hung round with magnificent "karosses," or curtains, made of the skins of various wild animals. One of these karosses instantly arrested their attention, from the fact that it conveyed to them the information that Africa contained at least one other new animal in addition to those already discovered by them. It was made of zebra skins; but there was a peculiarity in the marking which clearly indicated that the animals from which the skins had been taken were of a new and quite unknown variety. The peculiarity consisted in the fact that the head, neck, forelegs, and front half of the body were of a dark-brown colour, while the hinder half of the body was striped like that of the ordinary zebra.

Von Schalckenberg was at once plunged into an ecstasy of delight at the discovery, and, with the ruthlessness of the true scientist, announced his determination to despoil the palace of that particular kaross, let the opinion of the Makolo upon his act of spoliation be what it might; and he also there and then secured Sir Reginald's amused consent to proceed eventually in search of the living animals, if it should prove possible to learn from the natives where they were to be found.

The furniture of the palace was of the most primitive description, consisting of a very roughly constructed bed, a low table, of equally rough manufacture, and an armchair decorated with rude but very elaborate carvings. There was also a chest—obviously an ordinary sailor's sea-chest—which Sir Reginald opened, under the belief that here, if anywhere, would be found such relics of the unfortunate white people as might still remain in existence.

The chest proved to be about three-parts full, and the first articles that came to hand were the king's very handsome gold coronet, his lion-skin mantle, and a necklace of what at first sight appeared to be red pebbles. Upon closer inspection, however, the stones were pronounced by the professor to be uncut and unpolished rubies of exceptional size and beauty, but which were ruined by the roughness and size of their perforations. There were ninety-three of them in all, strung upon a thin strip of deerskin, and, had they been perfect, would have been worth about ten thousand pounds.

The professor's eyes sparkled as he held the necklace up to the light and noted the fire and deep, rich colour of the stones.

"Ah!" he ejaculated, "here is wealth with a vengeance, but reduced to about a tenth part of its original value by the crass ignorance and stupidity of somebody who did not know what irreparable mischief he was doing when he chipped and punched those ghastly great holes. I wonder, now, where they were found! Somewhere not very far from here, I'll be bound, or they would not have found their way into M'Bongwele's hands. I must ask Lobelalatutu about these; possibly he may be able to tell us where they came from, and, if so, there will be an opportunity not only for each of us to add considerably to our stock of precious stones, but also for me to acquire a little of that wealth which I so urgently need for the purpose that I mentioned to you, Sir Reginald, when you were good enough to invite me to make one of your party on this cruise."

"All right, Professor; I remember," answered Sir Reginald, cheerily. "If you can learn where these stones were found, we will go there, and you shall have a full week in which to collect as many as you can."

The next articles in the chest upon which the searchers laid hands, consisted of a soldier's castoff scarlet coat, buttonless, and very much the worse for wear; an old pair of blue trousers decorated on the side seams with tarnish-blackened gold lace; and a most shockingly battered old cocked hat; all of which they recognised with laughter as gifts presented by themselves to M'Bongwele upon the occasion of their former visit. And beneath these, again, they found two pairs of coarse blue-cloth trousers, a thick pilot-cloth coat, two blue-striped shirts, a pair of coarse worsted stockings, and one or two other oddments that had evidently belonged to one or more of the ill-fated party of white people who had fallen into M'Bongwele's hands, and of whose identity the searchers were now endeavouring to discover some trace. But the clothing bore no name, not even of the maker, nor were there any letters or documents of any kind in the chest to indicate the name or nationality of the owner. Nor was anything of the kind to be found anywhere in the hut, although the searchers carefully examined it throughout and also every article that it contained. The only chance, therefore, that remained to them was to visit the scene of the wreck, and endeavour to find some vestige of the ship herself.

When, on the morrow of this somewhat eventful day, the male members of the Flying Fish party went on deck to smoke an after-breakfast pipe, they found the chiefs assembled in the Great Place below, awaiting their appearance for the purpose of submitting the names of those of their number considered most acceptable for the vacant kingship.

And now a rather amusing difficulty arose; for when von Schalckenberg invited the chosen chiefs to ascend to the deck of the Flying Fish, in order that the Spirits might determine which of them should receive the position, the whole of them, sixteen in number, gravely ascended the side-ladder and ranged themselves in line before the arbiters of their fate. And when the professor demanded of Lobelalatutu an explanation of this somewhat singular proceeding, he was informed that at the conference of the preceding evening, each chief had calmly and resolutely voted for himself. This somewhat complicated the matter, and brought about a situation full of troublous possibilities, calling for very careful and diplomatic handling; the four "Spirits," therefore, having seated themselves in deck-chairs, invited each chief to step forward, in turn, and state briefly, first, the grounds upon which he based his belief in his own fitness for the post of king, and, secondly, the lines upon which he would govern, and the course of conduct which he would observe generally in the event of his nomination. To each man was accorded a certain number of good and also of bad marks corresponding to the nature of the replies given by him, the bad marks being deducted from the good, and the candidate's fitness judged by the number of good marks then remaining to him. Thus carefully examined, three of the chiefs were eventually found to be equally suitable, upon which discovery the choice of one from among them was determined by the simple process of "odd man out," as a result of which—to the great satisfaction of the judges—Lobelalatutu proved to be the fortunate individual. The fifteen unsuccessful candidates were, naturally, somewhat chagrined at their failure, but they had seen and understood enough of the proceedings to satisfy them of the absolute fairness of the test, and they therefore took their defeat with a good grace, and made no demur when they were presently required to swear fealty to their new sovereign.

This matter having been satisfactorily arranged, the bodies of M'Bongwele and the chief witch-doctor were ordered to be cut down and interred in the open country outside the village, after which the new king was crowned by no less a personage than Sir Reginald himself, while the professor invested him with the regal mantle of lion-skin, and Lethbridge dropped the ruby necklace over his head, the ceremony being performed on the deck of the Flying Fish, in the presence of the entire populace of the village.

The ceremony of coronation having thus been duly performed, the new king was at once called upon to exercise his regal functions for the first time by fulfilling one of the promises that he had made, this being the abolition of the power of the witch-doctors. These functionaries were accordingly summoned before him and bidden to pack up their traps and quit the country forthwith under an armed escort, an assurance being given them that if they were ill-advised enough to return after they had been conducted across the border, they would be slain at sight.

"And now, Lobelalatutu," said von Schalckenberg, when this matter had been arranged and the people dismissed, "there are two things that we require you to do for us. The first is, to tell us, if you can, where M'Bongwele obtained those stones,"—pointing to the necklace of rubies—"and the other is, to guide us to the spot where the ship of the white people was last seen."

"I can do both with equal ease, and at the same time, O Spirit," answered the new king, "for these red stones were found by our people on the beach and in the soil of the cliffs at the spot where they came upon the wrecked white men and women. A few were found, in the first place, on the beach, and, being of a pleasing colour and shooting forth a ruddy light, were offered to M'Bongwele, who so greatly admired them that he sent the finders back to look for more, with orders to bring him enough to make a necklace."

"And you know the exact spot?" demanded the professor.

"I know the exact spot; for my brother was one of the finders, and he told me," answered Lobelalatutu.

"Good!" ejaculated the professor. "Your brother shall go with us, and point out the place."

"Nay," answered the king; "he cannot do that, for he is dead. M'Bongwele slew him with his own hand."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the professor. "Why?"

"Because he was my brother," answered the king, simply.

Von Schalckenberg turned to Sir Reginald. "His most gracious Majesty, here, tells me that he can show us where the wreck lies, and also where those rubies were found," said he. "If the rest of you are quite agreeable, it appears to me that there is no very particular reason why we should not go there at once. We seem to have finished our business here, at all events, for the present."

"All right," agreed the baronet; "let us go. We will take Lobelalatutu with us, and get him to point out the places; then one of us can run him back here, and land him, while the others take a stroll along the beach and fill their pockets with rubies—if they can find any."

The professor accordingly explained to the newly created monarch what was proposed; and then Sir Reginald retired to the pilot-house to assume the duties of navigator. A minute later the inhabitants of the village had the gratification of witnessing the flight into the air of their new king, not as a prisoner, but as a friend of the Great Spirits, who were doubtless taking him away with them on some business of importance connected with the welfare of the whole Makolo nation.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE RUBY MINE.

The coast line was distant some twenty miles from the village, and about as far from the ruins of Ophir; it was therefore easily reached within an hour from the moment of starting, and King Lobelalatutu then had the mystifying experience of beholding the ladies of the party, accompanied by Ida, Sir Reginald, Lethbridge, and Colonel Sziszkinski suddenly and unaccountably appear on the beach below him—having left the ship in some mysterious and unknown manner—while the professor and Mildmay remained on board with him, to have the position of the wreck pointed out to them, and afterwards convey him back to his village and people.

"Now, Lobelalatutu," said the professor, "show us, if you can, whereabouts the wreck lay, when you last saw it."

The king looked out to seaward, and pointed toward a spot about half a mile from the shore, where the sea was breaking heavily.

"It was there," he said, "quite close to that end of the white line on the water."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mildmay. "There is evidently a reef there; and she fetched up on the southern end of it. We will take a run out there, Professor, and see whether we can discover any signs of her; after which we will run our friend, here, back to the bosom of his anxious family."

And therewith, he retired to the pilot-house. The ship then rose to a height of about five hundred feet into the air, and headed out toward the southern extremity of the reef, over which she was hovering a few minutes later, while the professor and Mildmay peered down into the water below them. At their height above the water it was quite easy to see down into the depths; and, although the foam of the breakers baffled them somewhat, they had very little difficulty in tracing the extent and direction of the reef. For some little time, however, they looked in vain for any sign of the wreck; but at length Mildmay, pointing downward at two dark shapeless blotches that could just be distinguished, one on either side of the reef, remarked—

"That appears to me to be all that is left of her, Professor. And, if so, she has evidently broken in two and gone down, the one half of her inside and the other half outside the reef. Whether, however, I am right in my supposition can only be determined by descending to the bottom and getting into our diving-suits. And, very fortunately for us, the water on both sides of the reef appears to be fairly deep, so that, when we are down there on the sand, we shall not feel the power of the surf very much. Had she remained on top of the reef I doubt whether it would have been possible for us to have got near her."

"Quite right, my friend," answered the professor. "No man could keep his feet among those breakers; we should be helplessly knocked about, like ninepins. And now, do you wish to see any more, or shall we be off back to the village?"

"One moment, please," said Mildmay, drawing out his pocket-book. "It will do no harm to take a set of cross-bearings for the identification of this spot, and they might be useful in the event of an off-shore wind springing up, during which it is quite possible that the sea may cease to break on the reef, in which case we could not very easily find the wreck unless we happened to have the bearings of her."

He went into the pilot-house accordingly, and took the bearings, having done which he set the engines in motion, and headed the ship back toward the village, where she duly arrived about an hour later.

As the professor drew up and stowed away the accommodation ladder by means of which Lobelalatutu had left the ship he said—

"It has just occurred to me that the present is an excellent opportunity for us to test our wireless telephones by calling up our friends on the beach."

And, entering the pilot-house, he went up to the instrument that was there fixed, and, opening it, laid his finger on one of two small knobs that it contained. The little bell that formed part of the instrument at once started ringing—as did a similar bell in every room of the ship—and so continued for about half a minute, when it ceased for about two seconds, and then went on again.

"Good!" remarked the professor, removing his finger from the button, and so stopping the ringing of the bell, as he drew out a small tube and inserted it's end in one ear; "some one among our friends hears us."

Then he advanced his mouth to the mouthpiece, and spoke into it—

"Hillo! who are you?"

"I am Elphinstone," came the instant and clear reply. "Is that the Flying Fish?"

"Yes," answered von Schalckenberg. "We are now at the village, and we thought it an excellent opportunity to test the telephones. They appear to answer perfectly; for I can hear you as distinctly as though you were at my elbow. Can you hear me fairly well?"

"Splendidly; quite as well as you can hear me, I should say," replied Sir Reginald. "I congratulate you, Professor, upon the success of your latest invention. It is a most useful instrument; and I can easily imagine a number of circumstances under which it might prove of the utmost value to us. An idea has just occurred to me. How would it do, while we are about it, to ascertain the greatest distance at which it is possible to communicate intelligibly with each other?"

"Excellent!" answered von Schalckenberg. "We will shut ourselves in, ascend to a height of ten thousand feet, into the calm belt, and then proceed at full speed directly away from you. Keep your finger on the black button of your instrument, please, for our guidance; and when our bell ceases to sound we shall know that we have lost touch with you."

"Right!" came the answer. And instantly all the bells in the ship again started ringing.

At the same moment the professor closed the door and windows of the pilot-house, and injected a strong jet of vapour into the air-chambers, causing the ship to rise rapidly into the air. Then he sent the engines full speed ahead, and pointed the ship's sharp snout on a compass bearing that left the party on the beach directly astern of her.

For three-quarters of an hour the bells in the ship continued to ring, at first strongly, and then gradually with diminishing strength; and finally, when the ship had been running continuously at full speed for fifty minutes, they became inaudible.

The professor's face, meanwhile, was a picture of ever-growing delight.

"If we can continue to hear the bell for a quarter of an hour I shall be quite satisfied," he had remarked to Mildmay, as the ship first rose into the air; "for by that time we shall be quite fifty miles distant from the beach."

And when the quarter of an hour had elapsed with no perceptible diminution in the volume of sound, his growing satisfaction had been faithfully mirrored by the steadily expanding smile upon his expressive features. Finally, when at length the bells ceased to ring, he exclaimed—

"Well! who would have believed it? Here have I, a poor silly scientist, been hoping that my little invention would prove effective for as long a distance as fifty miles; and behold, at the distance of one hundred and twenty miles from our friends we have only just lost touch with them. Let us try back, my friend; turn the ship round, and we will then note how far we have to run before we can speak clearly to each other."

Mildmay accordingly put the helm hard over, and when the compass showed that the ship was once more pointing directly toward the spot on the beach where the remainder of the party had been left, the professor drew out his watch, and carefully noted the time. Almost immediately the bells again began to tinkle, at first very faintly and intermittently, but rapidly increasing in strength as the ship sped back over the ground that she had traversed a few minutes earlier. By the time that she had run ten miles on her return journey the bells were again ringing quite strongly.

"Stop her!" commanded von Schalckenberg. "We are now one hundred and ten miles from our friends, and I think we ought to be within speaking distance of them. Let us try."

He touched the red knob of the instrument, and at the same time inserted the end of the tube in his ear. Almost instantly a faint but quite distinct shout came to him:

"Hillo, von Schalckenberg, where are you now?" he heard Sir Reginald's voice inquire.

"We are just one hundred and ten miles distant from you," answered the professor. "Can you hear me distinctly?"

"Yes, quite distinctly; although your voice does not sound quite so loud as it did," came the reply. "It sounds as though you were about a hundred feet away."

"Still, if you can hear me clearly enough to distinguish what I say, it is good enough. You will hear me more distinctly as we shorten the distance between you and ourselves. By the way, have you met with any luck yet in your search for rubies?"

"Yes," answered Sir Reginald. "During these experiments of yours I have been lying down on the beach, turning over the pebbles within reach, and have found two rather fine stones that look like rubies. You will be able to say whether they are or no when you see them."

"Which will be within the hour," answered the professor; "for we are now about to return to you at full speed. Many thanks, my friend, for giving so much time to my experiment. I need not now trouble you any further; so get to work in earnest, and see how many more rubies you can find by the time that we arrive."

It was exactly fifty-five minutes later that the Flying Fish, still at a height of ten thousand feet above the sea-level, arrived over the beach where the rest of the party were seen wandering slowly hither and thither, and gently settled down in their midst.

"Well, my friends, what luck, so far?" demanded the professor, as he and Mildmay emerged from the ship's diving-chamber, and joined Sir Reginald and Lady Olivia on the beach.

"That is for you to say," answered Sir Reginald, with a laugh. "I have found another likely looking stone since I last spoke to you; and Lady Olivia, here, has a whole pocketful, but most of them, I am afraid, are rather more than doubtful."

"May I be permitted to see them?" asked von Schalckenberg, holding out his hand, with a smile.

"Of course," answered Lady Olivia, detaching from her belt the little leather bag in which she usually carried her handkerchief, scent-bottle, and other odds and ends. "I think that several of them are quite good; but my husband declares that they are not worth the trouble of picking up."

"And he is quite right, so far as this one, at least, is concerned," remarked the professor, as he drew forth a stone and held it up to the light for a moment. "This also," as he drew forth a second, looked at it, and threw it away. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as he produced a third, "this looks more promising."

He examined the stone very carefully—it was about the size of a plover's egg—and presently said, as he handed it back—

"My dear lady, permit me to congratulate you. You have been fortunate enough to secure an exceptionally magnificent stone, without doubt. It is, of course, somewhat difficult to judge of the precise value of a gem in its rough, uncut state, but I should say that you have there a stone that will prove almost unique, not only as to size, but also for its perfect colour. Have you any more like it?"

Further investigation proved that Lady Olivia had another that was almost, if not quite, the equal of the first, as well as three others of somewhat smaller size, but equal beauty of colour; and when, presently, the professor proceeded to examine Sir Reginald's find, it became at once apparent that the rubies to be found in this particular locality were likely to prove exceptionally valuable from their extreme richness of colour.

"And these," exclaimed von Schalckenberg, enthusiastically, "are the results of but a few hours' search! Surely there must be a ruby mine of almost fabulous richness somewhere close at hand. Now is the time for me to acquire a little of that wealth of which I am in such urgent need."

And, raising his hat to Lady Olivia, he turned away. But it was presently noticed that, instead of examining the pebbles on the beach, as the rest were doing, he went straight to the foot of the low cliff at the upper edge of the beach, scrutinising its face very closely, and foot by foot, as he passed slowly along it. When last particularly noticed, he was seen to be apparently digging into the soil of the cliff-face, here and there, with his pocket-knife.

At length the sound of a gong beaten on board the Flying Fish gave notice that afternoon tea was ready for whosoever chose to partake of that refreshment; and the two ladies and little Ida—all three of whom held the institution in great respect—at once gladly turned their steps toward the ship, for they were fatigued and hot with their unwonted exertions, and felt that a cup of tea was precisely what they needed for their restoration. The men of the party, also, had by this time drifted almost insensibly into the habit of joining the ladies at this function; thus it came to pass that within the half-hour the entire party had gathered beneath the awnings, and, ensconced in comfortable basket chairs, were leisurely sipping the fragrant cup that is said to cheer and certainly does not inebriate, while they discussed in desultory fashion their afternoon's experiences, and compared their finds. All, that is to say, with the exception of von Schalckenberg, who, in his usual absent-minded way, was to be seen, about a mile distant, still prodding and poking at the cliff-face as industriously and with as deep an absorption as though so important a function as afternoon tea was quite unknown to him.

"Let us call the beggar up with one of his own telephones," said Lethbridge, in response to some remark of Lady Olivia's anent the professor's absorption. "If we don't he will stay there until darkness falls, and then wonder how the dickens he got there. Here, Ida, come you and call up the professor, sweetheart; he will perhaps listen to you, though it is very doubtful whether he would to me." And, drawing his telephone from his pocket, he pressed the button, while Ida—with whom the ex-colonel was a great favourite—came and stood obediently by his side. As usual, everybody else's telephone, as well as all the bells in the ship, at once started ringing.

"Now," continued Lethbridge, gravely, "that is the fault that I have to find with these otherwise wonderfully clever contrivances of von Schalckenberg's. You want to communicate with a certain person by means of your own instrument, and you at once attract the attention of everybody else who happens to possess one. I must remember to ask the worthy man if he cannot remedy that defect. Ah, there he is," as the bells ceased for a moment to tinkle. "Now then, Ida, put this in your ear, and then tell the professor, through that mouthpiece, that afternoon tea is on."

The child at once did so, calling into the receiver—

"Professor, Professor, can you hear me?"

"Oh yes, of course I can," replied the professor's voice. "What is the matter, my dear?"

"Tea is ready!" proclaimed Ida, shortly.

"Is that so?" answered the professor. "All right, little one; I should like a cup of tea very much, for I am terribly thirsty. But I cannot come just now, for I am very busy. So you take your tea yourself, and enjoy it, eh?"

"What are you so dreadfully busy about, Professor?" demanded the child.

"I am busy at the making of my fortune," answered the professor. "You can tell your papa that I believe I have found the heart of the ruby mine; and, if so, there will be rubies enough for us all and to spare. I will tell you more about it when I turn up for dinner."

The professor duly turned up, very hot and tired—not to say dirty—as the first star made its appearance in the eastern sky; and the result of his afternoon's labour was represented by some forty rubies of a size, and fire, and richness of colour that threw those found by the rest of the party entirely in the shade.

His story was very simple. He explained that the fact of rubies being found upon the beach had led him to the conviction that they must originally have come from the soil of the cliff-face; and he had accordingly devoted himself to the task of examining the bare soil at those spots where it had crumbled away. The result, he said, was that he had ultimately come upon a place where, upon careful inspection, he had found no fewer than three rubies just showing through the soil, within a foot of each other. These he had, of course, straightway dug out; and in the act of doing so had disclosed others, the ultimate result being the unearthing of the superb stones that he had brought back with him. His opinion, he explained, was that, judging from the indications already seen, there would be found to be a very considerable "pocket" of rubies at no great distance in from the cliff-face; and that the best plan would be for the five men to work conjointly, with picks and shovels, finally dividing the proceeds between the members of the party. As for the ladies, if they chose to amuse themselves by searching the beach, the professor was of opinion that they might meet with sufficient success to render it fully worth their while.

On the following morning, accordingly, the Flying Fish was moved close up to the scene of the professor's discovery, and the men, suitably attired and provided with picks, shovels, and bars, went to work upon the top edge of the cliff, breaking down and shovelling away the soil as directed by the professor; but up to lunch time their efforts had been rewarded by the finding of but one ruby. This, however, von Schalckenberg explained, was not to be wondered at, as it would probably take them two or three days to get down to the spot at which he expected to find the "pocket." This same "pocket," he further explained, might possibly have been much more quickly reached, and with much less labour, by digging into the face of the cliff, instead of downward. This, however, he asserted, would have exposed them all to the very great risk of an almost certain fall of earth; he had therefore deemed it wise to adopt the safer method, even though it involved the expenditure of a very considerably greater amount of labour.

The afternoon's work was rewarded by the discovery of two medium-sized and two small stones of very fine fire and colour; and the second day's labour resulted in a find of five fine and eight medium-sized stones. Thus the toilers progressed, each day yielding them a better return for their labour, until late in the afternoon of the fifth day they struck the "pocket," so confidently looked for by the professor. Then the gems were found in such abundance that it was scarcely possible to turn over a shovel-full of soil without finding one or more; while it was by no means uncommon to turn up as many as half a dozen at one stroke of the shovel. This extraordinarily prolific yield lasted for no fewer than four days, during which they accumulated such an enormous quantity of gems—practically every one of which was of exceptional value—that at length, although the mine was very far from being exhausted, even the professor declared himself satisfied, while Colonel Sziszkinski found himself suddenly relieved of a very heavy load of anxiety by the acquisition of a sufficient number of valuable gems to yield him a very handsome fortune if discreetly placed upon the market.

"That, I suspect, will be your difficulty, Professor; you will be so anxious to realise that you will flood the market, and cause a big depreciation in the value of rubies," remarked Lethbridge, rather caustically, when after their last day at the mine they met again at the dinner-table.

Von Schalckenberg laughed. "I will take my chance of that, my friend," he replied. "But have no fear; I will not flood the market, or lower the value of rubies. There are plenty of people who are always ready to buy fine stones—when they get the chance, which is not often; and I have a friend in Amsterdam whose knowledge of the market is second to none in the world. I shall put my rubies into his hands to sell, and he will know how to dispose of them without flooding the market. You had better let the same man have yours, Boris, my friend. What do you think of doing with yours, Sir Reginald?"

"I?" returned Sir Reginald. "Oh, I shall pick out the finest, and have them cut and set as a suite for Lady Elphinstone; and, as for the rest of them—well, I don't quite know what I shall do with them. But, anyhow, I promise you that I will not put them on the market early enough to spoil the sale of your stones."

"Ah!" exclaimed the professor, appealing to the company at large; "see what an advantage it is to be a rich man. What do you propose to do with yours, Lethbridge?"

"Oh, I don't know," answered the ex-colonel; "follow Elphinstone's example, I think, and have a suite made for this young woman," pinching Ida's cheek, "against the time when she is old enough to get married; and—perhaps sell the rest some time or other."

The professor glanced inquiringly at Mildmay.

"I think I, too, will have a suite made," observed the sailor; "it seems rather a good idea. Pretty sure to come in handy, sooner or later."

And his eyes turned, as though unconsciously, in the direction of Feodorovna Sziszkinski, to the confusion of that young lady, and the covert amusement of Lady Olivia.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

MILDMAY'S ADVENTURE WITH AN OCTOPUS.

The two succeeding days were very fully occupied upon the somewhat difficult and delicate task of effecting an equal division of the fabulously rich haul of rubies that they had so easily acquired in so short a time; and on the third day—being Sunday—everybody took a rest, as was usual with them whenever possible.

But on the following Monday morning, after breakfast, the Flying Fish rose into the air, and, moving out to sea, proceeded to the reef upon which the unknown ship had been wrecked. It was determined to examine first what was believed to be the after part of the wreck; for if any documents, from the contents of which the ship could be identified, still existed in decipherable condition, it would be in one of the cabins that they would almost certainly be found. The position of this portion of the wreck, therefore, having been found, the Flying Fish was sunk as close as possible to it, settling down upon a smooth, firm, sandy bottom, in fourteen fathoms of water, on the seaward side of the reef. There were but four male diving-suits in the ship, but Lethbridge and the Russian colonel were so very nearly alike in size and build that there was no doubt that the suit of the former would fit the latter; and Lethbridge therefore offered Sziszkinski the opportunity to experience the sensation of walking about on the ocean's bed, and beholding anything of a novel character that there might be to see—an offer which the Russian had gladly accepted. A diving-suit had been provided for Lady Olivia, but it was deemed unadvisable that she should make her first essay at submarine exploration until the others had first been out, and had thus ascertained what difficulties and possible dangers were likely to be experienced. The four men who were going out—that is to say, Sir Reginald, Mildmay, von Schalckenberg, and Sziszkinski— accordingly descended to the lowermost depths of the ship, and entered the diving-room, leaving Lethbridge to entertain the two ladies and little Ida by pointing out such objects of interest as were to be seen from the tightly closed windows of the saloon.

Going at once to the cupboard labelled with Colonel Lethbridge's name, the professor drew forth the diving-dress and very handsome suit of diving-armour which it contained, and instructed his Russian friend how to don first the dress and then the armour, Sir Reginald and Mildmay meanwhile leisurely assuming their own proper suits; and when at length Sziszkinski was completely equipped, von Schalckenberg quickly donned his own suit, after which the quartette left the diving-room and entered what they called the chamber of egress, carefully closing and securing the door behind them. The water-tap was then turned on, and the chamber gradually filled with water, which flowed in at the level of the floor, and steadily rose about the four occupants until it was over their heads and had reached to the ceiling. Then, having first ascertained that everybody felt all right and quite comfortable, the professor opened the trap-door in the ship's bottom, and the four men walked out over the flap and found themselves treading the sandy floor of the ocean upon which the ship rested.

They were now in the tunnel-like passage formed by the starboard bilge-keel and the ship's hull, which curved out over them vast and ponderous as an overhanging cliff. It was intensely dark here, though at either extremity of the tunnel could be seen a small patch of sombre green light, and they therefore switched on the electric lamps, which were attached, one to the helmet and one to the belt of each man; and thus aided, they were enabled without difficulty to make their way out to what Mildmay called the daylight.

Once there—that is to say, clear of the gloom of the overshadowing hull of the Flying Fish—they were able to see with tolerable distinctness, even without the assistance of their lamps, the depth of water being too great for the surface disturbance to reach the bottom and stir up the sand. The water, therefore, was clear and transparent, allowing the light of the sun, already high in the heavens, to pass through and somewhat dimly illuminate the ground upon which they walked with a soft, greenish-blue light. The water was alive with fish, darting restlessly hither and thither; and while some were evidently much alarmed at the apparition of the four gleaming armour-clad figures, from whom they retreated precipitately, others were as evidently consumed with curiosity as to what they were, and came swimming about them with a pertinacity that was highly amusing. It was also very interesting to look upward and watch the waves ceaselessly chasing each other overhead, the shape and formation of each wave being clearly indicated by the lines of rippling light that crossed and intermingled with each other in the production of an endless succession of most beautiful and novel effects.

The wreck was clearly visible at a distance of some three hundred feet, lying at the base of the reef, which shot steeply up out of the sand, and reached to within about a dozen feet of the sea-level. As the four men approached it was seen that the almost shapeless bulk before them was, as had been anticipated, merely the after part of the ship, the remainder doubtless lying on the other, or inshore, side of the reef. That she had been a sailing-ship was evident, for the hollow steel main and mizzen masts, with a portion of the yards and the standing and running gear still attached to them, were to be seen lying upon the steep slope of the reef, evidently where they had fallen when the ship struck. And from the circumstance that all canvas, except the close-reefed topsails, was furled, Mildmay expressed the opinion that she had struck during heavy weather, and doubtless at night, for it was difficult to understand how a ship could have come stem-on upon the reef during the hours of daylight, on a coast where fog is practically unknown. And, to the four curious observers standing down there alongside the wreck, it was perfectly clear that she had struck with tremendous force, for she had pushed half her length across the obstructing reef, and had ultimately broken in two just forward of the mainmast. The half of her at which they were now looking had slid down the side of the reef with such force that her stern had buried itself in the sand to an extent which rendered it impossible for them to read her name and port of registry on her counter, as they had hoped to do. If, therefore, they desired to ascertain any particulars concerning her, it would be absolutely necessary for one or more of them to climb on board and institute a search of the cabins, which, in consequence of the peculiar posture of the wreck—that is to say, the fact that she was reared nearly on end on her stern—appeared likely to prove a task of very considerable difficulty, not to say danger.

Had they been mere ordinary divers, attired in the well-known regulation diving-dress, they would have been unable to communicate with each other, save by the somewhat slow and awkward means of a slate and a piece of chalk. The professor, however, with that foresight which was one of his most remarkable characteristics, had met this difficulty, at the time when the special diving-dresses for the party were in process of manufacture, by the introduction into each helmet of a pair of small but powerful microphones of his own design, with the result that wearers of the dress could hear as distinctly as when they were in the open-air, and could converse together with perfect facility. Hence they were now able to discuss the difficulty that thus unexpectedly confronted them, and arrange a plan of action.

For some minutes the four men stood together, contemplating the wreck and considering the situation generally. Then Mildmay said—

"It appears to me that the only way is for me to climb up to the skylight, open it, and lower myself down into the cabin by means of a rope's-end, plenty of which are lying about athwart the deck. That skylight undoubtedly will give me access to the cuddy, and from that I shall probably be able to make my way into the other cabins. It is the captain's cabin that we particularly want; and I shall probably know better where to look for it than any of the rest of you. One of you, however, had better come up with me, as I may possibly require assistance."

"All right," answered Sir Reginald; "I will go with you. Shall I go first, or will you?"

"I had better go first, I think; then I can help you up," said Mildmay.

And he forthwith laid hold of a rope's-end, and with some difficulty hauled himself into position above the fore end of the skylight. Having firmly established himself upon it, he proceeded to haul the baronet up after him. Then, between them, they managed to force open the starboard half of the skylight cover, when, swinging his legs over the ledge of the skylight, Mildmay grasped a rope and lowered himself down into the interior of the cuddy.

For a moment he could see nothing, for the only light penetrating this interior came down through the skylight, and that was not much; he therefore switched on his electric lamps and looked about him. He found himself standing upon the after bulkhead of the apartment, with his feet on a door which apparently gave access to one of the stern cabins; and stepping aside sufficiently for the purpose, he was in the act of stooping to unfasten the door, when he suddenly found himself enveloped by a number of long, strong, pliant, embracing arms, and violently snatched off his feet! His surprise was so great that for the moment he could not imagine what had happened to him; he knew only that his arms and legs were so tightly pinioned that, despite his utmost exertions, he found it absolutely impossible to move. But knowledge came to him the next moment—the knowledge that he was in the embrace of an enormous octopus! And as he realised this fact, he heard the horrid rasping of the fierce creature's powerful mandibles upon his helmet.

The sound sent a thrill of horror through him, for the thought flashed through his mind, "If the brute should pierce my helmet, I shall be drowned like a rat in a trap!" But a moment later he became reassured, as he remembered the extraordinary strength and toughness of the aethereum of which not only his helmet but his whole suit of armour was composed; and with the revulsion of feeling, he laughed aloud at the amusing character of the situation—for it was amusing to him to think of the creature's disappointment at its utter inability to pierce his shell and get at him.

But, stay—was the situation really so very amusing after all? For now Mildmay began to realise that the octopus was steadily working its way backward and upward through a big breach in the fore bulkhead of the cabin, carrying him with it; and presently he found himself outside the cabin altogether, and in the open space at the bottom of the companion ladder. But the creature did not pause here. Still working its way upward, it dragged Mildmay along a wide alley-way between the ship's side and the casing of the companion-way until it reached the bulkhead between this space and the main hold. The straining of the ship, which had eventually resulted in her breaking in two, had also rent this bulkhead apart, leaving an aperture some ten feet wide, and through this in turn the octopus gradually worked its way, until it had passed into what—before the ship broke in two—had been the main hold. And now Mildmay was able to understand what had been greatly puzzling him—how it was that the creature had come to be inside the ship at all; it was evidently through these breaches in the bulkheads that it had made its way; and, just prior to the moment of his seizure, the sailor had caught a momentary shuddering glimpse of something in the cuddy that went far to explain why it had made its way there.

That the octopus had some definite objective now became perfectly clear, for it still kept untiringly on its way, forcing its passage this way and that, through the interstices between a confused heap of bales and cases that had formed a part of the ship's cargo, until at length, after about half an hour's arduous work, it emerged, clear of everything, into open water, when it at once made for a cave-like aperture in the reef, into which it passed, still firmly clasping its prisoner in the embrace of its snake-like tentacles.

And now Mildmay began to realise the serious character of the extraordinary plight in which he thus unexpectedly found himself involved. For it now flashed upon him that, in the astonishment following upon his seizure, he had failed to raise any outcry, with the object of making his friends acquainted with his predicament; indeed, he had been so fully occupied in struggling to free himself from the fettering embrace of his enemy that it had not occurred to him to cry out until it had become altogether too late to make his voice heard; and he now found himself thrust, how deep he knew not, into this submarine cave, but certainly much too far for his voice to reach those outside and bring them to his assistance. And, meanwhile, the octopus still held him in so tenacious a grip that he found it absolutely impossible to free his hands and so get at his two-bladed, electric dagger, with which, as he believed, he could make short work of his antagonist; indeed, every time that he made the slightest attempt to move his limbs, he felt the tentacles still further strengthen their grip upon him. And now that he had time to think of it, he became conscious of the fact that he was feeling pretty completely exhausted by his previous struggles and the extreme violence with which he had been dragged hither and thither in his passage from the wrecked ship's cuddy to the cave. He was bruised and aching in every joint of his body, and was, furthermore, suffering severely from cramp due to the constraint upon his limbs.

How was he to effect his escape? His friends outside could not help him, for the simple reason that they did not know his whereabouts. Doubtless they were by this time beginning to feel uneasy about him— were, perhaps, even instituting a search for him; but such a search as they were likely to make would not benefit him, for the utmost that they could ascertain would be that, after entering the cuddy, he had most mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared. For he was well aware that there was absolutely nothing to show which way he had gone; more than that, he had gone by a way that would have been absolutely impossible to his own unaided efforts. No, he told himself, it was quite useless to look for help from the others; whatever was to be done he himself must do.

And then he began to turn over in his mind the possibilities of the situation. How long would the creature be likely to hold him thus prisoner? Would it release him when at length it realised the impossibility of penetrating his armour? And, if so, how long was it likely to be ere the release came? Failing to make a meal of him, the thing would undoubtedly be obliged to go forth, sooner or later, to seek for food. But Mildmay had only the most elementary knowledge as to the habits of the octopus, and he had a hazy idea that, like certain snakes, the creature might only feed at more or less long intervals, in which case he might be held a prisoner for a week or more. This was a distinctly disquieting reflection while it lasted, but it presently occurred to him that it was by no means probable that, let the creature's habits be what they might, it would retain that vice-like grip upon him for any very lengthened period, and his chance would come when that grip relaxed. And it was an easy step from that conclusion to the next, which was that he must do what he could to cause the grip to relax as quickly as possible. He had already observed that the creature tightened the clasp of its tentacles about him whenever he moved or struggled; and the obvious corollary from this was that, the more quiescent he could remain, the sooner would his opportunity come to wrench an arm free and use his deadly dagger.

Meanwhile, on board the Flying Fish, Lethbridge, intent upon making the time pass as pleasantly as possible for the ladies, cooped up below deck in the saloons, conducted them to a window in the dining-saloon, from which the wreck and the reef were clearly visible, and from which they could watch the movements of the four adventurous divers.

For some twenty minutes or so after the quartette had left them, the occupants of the saloon had to be content with such interest and amusement as was to be obtained by observing the movements of the numerous fish outside, including a little thrill of horror when a big shark, which went drifting aimlessly past, turned aside for a moment to thrust his great shovel-snout up against the tremendously thick and especially toughened plate-glass window out of which they were gazing. They were at once full of apprehension lest the monster should remain in the neighbourhood, and attack the divers upon their appearance on the sandy floor below; and Lady Elphinstone even begged the colonel to go down below and warn the adventurers of its proximity as well as urge them to defer their excursion. But Lethbridge laughed so heartily at the idea of their being in any danger from a mere shark, and explained to them so clearly that the shark would have absolutely no chance whatever against men equipped as the divers were, that they permitted themselves to be reassured.

And while they were all discussing the matter, the four divers suddenly appeared, forcing their way somewhat laboriously through the water in the direction of the wreck. They saw the little party reach the great mass and stand for some few minutes, evidently in consultation; and finally they saw one of them climb up the wreck and then assist another of the party to mount beside him.

"Mildmay and Elphinstone," commented Lethbridge, as he looked over Ida's shoulder.

"How do you know that, Colonel?" demanded Lady Olivia. "To me they look all precisely alike, except, of course, that the professor is much stouter than the others. It is impossible for him to conceal his identity, even by encasing himself in a suit of armour."

"No; quite true," laughed Lethbridge. "The worthy von Schalckenberg's figure is such that one is bound to recognise him as far as one can see him. As to your other question, well, I recognised the first man as Mildmay by his actions. He is a sailor all over, and as strongly indicated by his sailor-like motions as the professor is by his figure. And I take the other to be your husband, because this is Colonel Sziszkinski's first appearance under water; moreover, Elphinstone is not the man to ask another to do anything which he himself can do. Ah, there goes Mildmay down through the ship's skylight. He is doubtless going to search the cabins for anything he can find that will help to establish her identity. We shall see no more of him for the next half-hour or so, I suspect."

They saw Sir Reginald lean over the edge of the skylight for a moment, and look down into the ship's interior; and then, as they watched, he seated himself composedly upon the fore end of the skylight, upon which he had been standing, and, with folded arms, leaned back against the almost vertical deck, with the stump of the mizzenmast and a quantity of wreckage that rested upon it, just above his head, overarching him in a sort of canopy. Then they saw the professor and his friend walking quietly about the wreck, examining it, and pointing out to each other such peculiarities as attracted their attention. And when the two men had exhausted the interest that attached to the wreck, the watchers saw them climb somewhat awkwardly up it and seat themselves beside Sir Reginald, who had two or three times peered down into the interior of the skylight, and now seemed to be exhibiting some signs of uneasiness.

"Sir Reginald is beginning to grow fidgety at Mildmay's long stay below, I fancy," remarked Lethbridge. "But he need not; Mildmay is a sailor, and a navy man at that; and he may be trusted to take care of himself. He is very thorough in his methods, and you may depend that—Hillo! What the—phew! it is an octopus, and I'll be shot if he hasn't—"

The ex-colonel pulled himself up short, and glanced anxiously at the faces of his companions. Had either of them seen? He noticed a look of horror and strong repugnance upon the faces of all three; but the horror was the kind that raises from the sight of some dreadful object, not the kind that is aroused upon witnessing some especially dreadful occurrence. He waited a moment to give one or another of them an opportunity to speak. He hoped they had not seen. He himself had only caught the barest momentary glimpse, as the creature shot suddenly up out of the body of the wreck, before it turned; but that glimpse was enough: he had seen!

"Oh, what a dreadful creature!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, turning a pale face to Lethbridge. "What is it, Colonel, and where did it come from?"

Evidently she had not seen!

"It is an octopus, or giant squid, as some people call it. It is very similar to the ordinary cuttlefish, only, of course very much larger. And, so far as I could see, it appeared to spring from the hull of the wreck. If you will excuse me for a moment, ladies, I will go to the pilot-house and endeavour to give our friends yonder some intimation of its presence; the professor will be interested to know that a genuine giant squid is within a few yards of him."

And thus lightly speaking, Lethbridge sauntered quietly out of the saloon, closed the door carefully behind him, and dashed at break-neck speed for the pilot-house.

He had already made up his mind what to do, and doubtless those other fellows would understand; they were quick-witted enough, surely, to grasp the meaning of such an action on his part.

His thoughts had reached thus far when he arrived in the pilot-house. Grasping the switch-handle of the great electric lantern, he proceeded to switch the light on and off rapidly, which act had the effect of almost immediately attracting the attention of the three men who were sitting on the skylight of the wreck. He saw them look at each other, as though speaking, and then von Schalckenberg rose to his feet and raised both hands above his head, to indicate that he was attending. And, thereupon, Lethbridge immediately began to signal, in the Morse code, by means of long and short flashes, the message—

"Mildmay in danger. Seized by octopus and carried into cave some distance above your heads."

To this message the professor at once replied by waving his arms in accordance with the "flag-waving" system used in the British navy and army—

"Right. We go to his rescue. Guide us to the cave."

Lethbridge gave the flash that indicated his comprehension of the communication, and then, with the switch-handle still in his hand, intently watched, through one of the pilot-house windows, the movements of the three. He saw them lower themselves down on to the sand, and immediately begin to climb up the rugged side of the reef. The surface of the rocks was slippery with weed, and their progress was, therefore, painfully slow; but at length they reached a point above and clear of the wreck, and von Schalckenberg then turned and faced the pilot-house, evidently asking for guidance.

"Go higher and bear to your right," signalled Lethbridge; and the men resumed their climb.

They were now making directly for the spot at which the octopus had disappeared, and a few minutes later they reached a ledge, with the cave immediately in front of them. The professor now again faced round inquiringly, and Lethbridge signalled—

"That is the spot."

Von Schalckenberg threw up his arms to indicate that he understood; and then Lethbridge saw the three men stand and confer together for a moment. Then, drawing their daggers and switching on their lights, they all three plunged into the cave and vanished, leaving the solitary watcher in the pilot-house in a state of painful suspense that endured for fully ten minutes. At length, however, the professor and one of the others reappeared, each of them dragging at a long, limp tentacle; and in another moment the huge body of the octopus came into view with the remaining two men pushing it vigorously from behind. As it reached the edge of the ledge the professor and his companion stepped round to assist the other two, and presently the great unwieldy body went rolling limply and lifelessly down the face of the reef until it lay motionless upon the sand. Then the four men made their way carefully down after it, when, having reached the sand, they turned and bent their footsteps in the direction of the Flying Fish.