PREFATORY:
THE LEGATEES OF DEUCALION
We were of us not a little as the result of sleeping out in the open all that night, for in Grand Canary the dew-fall and the of are not to be with. For myself on these occasions I like a of a as an early refresher. But here on this ground in the middle of the there were not three yards of level to be found, and so as Coppinger to go through some of dumb-bell with a of of lava, I his example. Coppinger has done a good of it in his time, but being a doctor of medicine other things—he takes out a new of some on an every other year—he is great on health theories, and them like a religion.
There had been rain two days before, and as there was still a of along at the of the barranca, we there and had a wash, and our teeth. Greatest luxury imaginable, a toothbrush, on this of expedition.
“Now,” said Coppinger when we had our pockets, “there’s little left, and it’s none the for being in a local Spanish newspaper.”
“Yours is mostly tobacco ashes.”
“It’ll if we it. We’ve a more ahead of us.”
That was obvious. So we sat the there at the of the barranca, and ate up all of what was left. It was a ten-mile to the at Santa Brigida, where we had set our traps; and as Coppinger wanted to take a more and we left this particular group of caves, it was likely we should be set we got our next meal, and our next taste of the PATRON’S old country wine. My faith! If only they in the English in Las Palmas what one get—with diplomacy—up in some of the villages, the old would a thing of the past in a week.
Now to tell the truth, the two he had already satisfied my small ambition. The in which they were up were as as paper, and the old themselves gave out like a they were touched. But you know what Coppinger is. He he’d come upon of an old Guanche university, or college, or something of that kind, like the one there is on the other of the island, and he wouldn’t be satisfied till he’d every in the whole of the cliff. He’d of left for the thing, and twenty-eight more in his kodak, and said we might as well through with the job then as make a return all on purpose. So he took the crowbar, and I the rope, and away we up to the of the cliff, where we had got such a from the sun the day before.
Of these were not easy to come at, or else they would have been years before. Coppinger, who on makes out he all about these things, says that in the old Guanche days they had of rope which they up when they were at home, and so keep out callers; and as no other plan to me, he may be right. Anyway the mouths of the were in a more or less level thirty the of the cliff, and fifty above the bottom; and Spanish doesn’t go in much where it cannot walk.
Now such from would have been cumbersome, but a light rope is easily carried, and though it would have been hard to climb up this, our plan was to on each mouth from above, and then to the of the cliffs, and start again AB INITIO for the next.
Coppinger is enough, and he has a good on a height, but there is no over the that he is and nearer fifty than forty-five. So you can see he must have been keen. Of I each time, and got into the mouth, and did what I to help him in; but when you have to walk a fly-fashion, with only a thin of a rope for support, it is not much help the man can give, offer you his best wishes.
I wanted to save him as much as I could, and as the three I to were small and empty, to be store-places, I asked him to take them for granted, and save himself the rest. But he on to each one in person, and as he that one of my was a prison, and another a pot-making factory, and another a for priests, he naturally said he hadn’t much on my judgment, and would have to go through the whole himself. You know what these thorough-going are for imagination.
But as the day on, and the sun rose higher, Coppinger to have had of it, though he was very game, and on going on much longer than was safe. I must say I didn’t like it. You see the was less than eighty from the top of the cliffs. However, at last he was to give it up. I off to Santa Brigida forthwith, but he wouldn’t do that. There were three more cave-openings to be looked into, and if I wouldn’t do them for him, he would have to make another to there himself. He to make out he was a very great on me by to take a report from my observation, but I to look at it in that light. I was also; I was with from the heat; my from the of the sun; and my hands were cut with the rope.
Coppinger might be tired, but he was still enthusiastic. He to make me also. “Look here,” he said, “there’s no what you may up there, and if you do hands on anything, it’s your own. I shall have no whatever.”
“Very of you, but I’ve got no use for any more done up in bags.”
“Bah! That’s not a up there. Don’t you know the yet in the openings? Now, be a good fellow. It doesn’t that we have all the blank, you won’t across a good for up there.”
“Oh, very well,” I said, as he so set on it; and away I over the rocks, and along the ledge, and then up by that in the which saved us the two-mile which we had had to take at first. I out the crowbar, and it in a new place, and then away I over the side, with hands at every new of the rope. It was an job into the mouth the above overhung, or else (what came to the same thing) it had away below; but I managed it somehow, although I with an on my back, and at the same time I didn’t let go the rope. It wouldn’t do to have the rope then: Coppinger couldn’t have it into me from where he was below.
Now from the I see that this was of different to the others. They were for the most part dens, out anyhow; this had been up with tools, so that all the were clean, and the and flat. The to the roof, me of an I had but not where, and there were rooms up with passages. I was pleased to that the other cave-openings which Coppinger wanted me to were the or the of two of these other rooms.
Of or on the there was not a trace, though I looked carefully, and for the place was bare. I a cigarette and it through—Coppinger always thinks one is over work if it is got through too quickly—and then I to the entrance where the rope was, and out, and my news.
He up a very face. “Have you it thoroughly?” he back.
“Of I have. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
“No, don’t come yet. Wait a minute. I say, old man, do wait a minute. I’m making fast the and the on the end of the rope. Pull them up, and just make me a dozen exposures, there’s a good fellow.”
“Oh, all right,” I said, and the up, and got them inside. The would be and uninteresting, but that wouldn’t to Coppinger. He them that way. One has to be about in these dark interiors, but there was a of like a seat by the of each doorway, and so I the camera on that to a stand, and off the from and above.
I got pictures of four of the this way, and then came to one where the was higher and wider. I put the camera, it level with of stone, and then sat myself to the machine. But the moment my weight got on that ledge, there was a crackle, and I a dozen inches.
Of I was up again sharply, and up the just as it was going to off to the ground. I will confess, too, I was pleased. Here at any was a Guanche of sorts, and as they had taken the trouble to seal it with cement, the were that it had something hiding. At there was nothing to be but a of and rubble, so I a of and this away. Presently, however, I to that I was out something that was not cement. It away, in regular layers, and when I took it to the I that each was up of two parts. One was that looked like talc, and on this was a of dark toffee-coloured material, that might have been wax. The toffee-coloured surface was over with some of pattern.
Now I do not to any knowledge on these matters, and as a took what Coppinger had told me about Guanche and as more or less true. For instance, he had upon me that this old people not write, and having this in my memory, I did not that the patterns through the were in some character, which, if left to myself, I should have done. But still at the same time I came to the that the was looting, and so set to work it out with the of my and a pocket-knife.
The were all more or less together, and so I did not go in for them farther. They to the in which they were stored, but by its I was able to at the of them, and then I away through the with the knife till I got the out in one solid piece. It some twenty by fifteen, by fifteen, but it was not so as it looked, and when I had taken the photographs, I it to Coppinger on the end of the rope.
There was nothing more to do in the then, so I myself next. The of was on the ground, and Coppinger was on all it. He was nearly with excitement.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“I don’t know yet. But it is the most valuable in the Canary Islands, and it’s yours, you beggar; at least what there is left of it. Oh, man, man, you’ve up the beginning, and you’ve up the end of some history that is priceless. It’s my own fault. I ought to have than set an man to do work.”
“I should say it’s your fault if anything’s gone wrong. You said there was no such thing as to these Canarios, and I took your word for it. For anything I the might have been something to eat.”
“It isn’t Guanche work at all,” said he testily. “You ought to have that from the talc. Great heavens, man, have you no eyes? Haven’t you the of the island? Don’t you know there’s no here?”
“I’m no geologist. Is this then?”
“Of course. It’s Egyptian: that’s at a glance. Though how it’s got here I can’t tell yet. It isn’t you can read off like a newspaper. The character’s a on any of those that have been so far. And as for this spread over the talc, it’s unique. It’s some of a mineral, I think: asphalt. It doesn’t up like animal wax. I’ll that later. Why they once it, and then let such a out of use, is just a marvel. I over this all day.”
“Well,” I said, “if it’s all the same for you, I’d over a meal. It’s a good ten miles hard going to the fonda, and I’m as as a already. Look here, do you know it is four o’clock already? It takes longer than you think to each of these caves, and then up again for the next.”
Coppinger spread his on the ground, and the of with care, but would not allow it to be with a rope for of more of the edges. He on it himself too, and did so for the larger part of the way to Santa Brigida, and it was only when he was an of himself with that he to let me take my turn. He was about it too. “I you may as well the stuff,” he snapped, “seeing that after all it’s your own.”
Personally, when we got to the fonda, I had as good a dinner as was procurable, and a bottle of that old Canary wine, and into after a final pipe. Coppinger also, but I have to he did not sleep much. At any I him still over the next morning, and looking very heavy-eyed, but with enthusiasm.
“Do you know,” he said, “that you’ve upon the most valuable that the modern world has yet seen? Of course, with your way of it out, you’ve done an of damage. For instance, those top you away and spoiled, an account of the of Yucatan.”
“Where’s that, anyway?”
“In the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. It’s all to-day, but once it was a very of the Atlanteans.”
“Never of them. Oh yes, I have though. They were the people Herodotus about, didn’t he? But I they were mythical.”
“They were very real, and so was Atlantis, the where they lived, which just north of the Canaries here.”
“What’s that of thing with in the margin?”
“Some of that in those days. The pages are full of them. That’s a cave-tiger. And that’s some of bat. Thank he had the to fully, the man who this, or we should have been able to the tale, or at any we not have of it. Whole have died out since this was written, just as a whole has been away and three quenched. The of it is, it was by a highly-educated man who naturally a very fist. I’ve at it all the night through, and have only managed to make out a here and there”—he his hands appreciatively. “It will take me a year’s hard work to this properly.”
“Every man to his taste. I’m my in the thing wouldn’t last as long as that. But how did it there? Did your Egyptian come to Grand Canary for the good of his lungs, and it he up in that cave?”
“I a mistake there. The author was not an Egyptian. It was the of the which me. The book was by one Deucalion, who to have been a or general—or both—and he was an Atlantean. How it got there, I don’t know yet. Probably that was told in the last pages, which a up with his pocketknife, in them away from the place where they were stowed.”
“That’s right, me. Deucalion you say? There was a Deucalion in the Greek mythology. He was one of the two who from the Flood: their Noah, in fact.”
“The of the of Atlantis might very well to the Flood.”
“Is there a Pyrrha then? She was Deucalion’s wife.”
“I haven’t come across her yet. But there’s a Phorenice, who may be the same. She to have been the Empress, as as I can make out at present.”
I looked with at in the margin. They were understandable, although the was all wrong. “Weird they to have had about the country in those days. Whacking big size too, if one may judge. By Jove, that’ll be a cave-tiger trying to a mammoth. I shouldn’t to have in those days.”
“Probably they had some way of the creatures. However, that will itself as I along with the translation.” He looked at his watch—“I I ought to be of myself, but I haven’t been to bed. Are you going out?”
“I shall drive to Las Palmas. I promised a man to have a at this afternoon.”
“Very well, see you at dinner. I they’ve sent my dress from the wash. O, lord! I am sleepy.”
I left him going up to bed, and and ordered a to take me down, and there I may say we for a time. A was waiting for me in the hotel at Las Palmas to go home for forthwith, and there was a Liverpool in the which I just managed to catch as she was out. It was a close thing, and the a small out of my hurry.
Now Coppinger was only an hotel acquaintance, and as I was up to the in work when I got to England, I’m I didn’t think very much more about him at the time. One doesn’t with people one just meets like that. And it must have been at least a year later that I saw by a paragraph in one of the papers, that he had the of to the British Museum, and that the of them was ten thousand at the valuation.
Well, this was a of revelation, and as he had so on me that the were mine by right of discovery, I a pointed note to him that he to have been making free with my property. Promptly came a beginning, “Doctor Coppinger regrets” and so on, and with it the English of the wax-upon-talc MSS. He “quite admitted” my claim, and “trusted that the profits of would be a for any received.”
Now I had no idea that he would take me like this, and a warm reply to that effect; but the only answer I got to this was through a of solicitors, who that all with Dr. Coppinger must be through them.
I will say here publicly that I the line he has taken over the matter; but as the has gone so far, I am to out his proposition. Accordingly the old history is here printed; the (and the responsibility) of the rests with Dr. Coppinger; and revenue from readers, goes to the of the original talc-upon-wax sheets, myself.
If there is a in this arrangement, it will be publicly at a later date. But at present this to be most unlikely.
