THE END OF THE WORLD
Four days had passed, four days of sunshine. Every day the whole party had been for a in the Argenta. They anywhere, however, for Sir John was still of his secret; he wanted to test her in every of weather—he wanted to nothing to chance, so that her not be questioned.
It was nothing for them to circle over the Outer Hebrides in the morning, come home for lunch, and then over as as Paris dinner. Scarcely any motion was to be in the boat.
Alan had with Sir Christopher Somerville to the to Kalvar. Desmond was to and look after Mavis, who at Dalmyrnie until her was born. Her were for the little newcomer, was very soon.
“What shall we do to-day?” asked Sir John. “Mavis, my dear, would you like to rest? You look very tired.”
“No, nothing me as much good as a sail in the Argenta, Uncle John. Let us go up after for a of hours.” There was a in the air, as the Argenta up to six thousand feet,—hardly a breeze, in fact.
“Oh I’m stifling,” said Mavis.
“My darling,” Desmond lovingly. “Are you sure you are not yourself? Your still. Always at something or other, aren’t you?”
174She prettily. “I can’t let—him—come into the world and we’ve not prepared for him, can I?” and she her on her husband’s shoulder.
“You’ve up your mind it’s to be a—‘him’—?” he laughed.
“Of course, Dez. I must have a son first.” He laughed at her naïve remark.
“Well if you be sure and tell me, darling, that’s all.”
“I shouldn’t be if we had a later,” Masters. “Although the sky is clear, there is the that a storm.”
“Then let us back,” said Mavis. “I am at thunder.”
Majestically the Argenta sailed, she along the sky. Now above the level of the clouds, now close above the of the Atlantic.
“How the look, about in the water,” said Alan. “It is a pearl-studded sea.”
Hector came up to Sir John with a puzzled frown. “I don’t like the look of the weather,” said he. “The won’t work, and the is about in a most manner. There’s a brewing, and I think we shall be wise to turn her nose and go back.”
“If you think it is best,” Sir John, and as he spoke the sun out in all its from a cloud. At the same moment, away on the horizon, where angry blue-black clouds had gathered, came a of lightning.
“Oh!” Mavis as she her eyes, “what a terrible flash.” In a minutes the sky was black and gloomy, the wind rose to a hurricane, and the big was and in a most manner.
“We’ll go back, sir,” said Hector. “Now go inside, Mrs. Forsyth. Believe me, there’s no danger.”
Then a most experience. The ceased, but up the ship from end to end, the and the Argenta violently. 175Gradually they her round, and to the of a most of and a of thunder, the ship started on her journey. At last they came safely to the and Mavis, always in a storm, was now in a of semi-unconsciousness. Desmond her out of the ship and her to the cottage. Her nerve had gone.
That night a son was to Desmond, and old Dr. Angus, who had been in by Alan, spoke very of the of saving mother and child. The would be to her, he announced, as he took his leave.
“I’m you had a nurse in the house,” he added, “a very wise when so many miles doctor and patient.”
“You’ll come again?” said Desmond hoarsely.
“I will be again in the morning.”
Desmond, white faced, his hands convulsively, on his wife’s room. The was terrible, and the in upon his forehead. Once he a cry, then stillness. He not knock—there was a nurse that closed door, and he he trust her. Still—.
A hand touched him. “Go to bed, Desmond, and try to a little sleep.” It was Alan. “I’ll watch for you, and I’ll give you my word I’ll call you if you’re wanted.”
“No, no, Alan. I’ll here. If she wants me, I want to be near.”
So the hours on, and no came from the sick-room. Dr. Angus up, and without a word within. An hour later he came out and saw Desmond’s face.
“You may go in for two minutes only,” said he. “Both your wife and son will live.”
It was a white-faced Mavis who him. Her was with pain; her were into her head. In her arms she a bundle, a little that was to the man and woman it. “Dear, he’s like you,” Mavis 176weakly, and then, with an almost smile, “I said it would be a boy.” Her closed, and with her husband’s hand in hers, she gave a and asleep.
“Whew!” said Sir John, a days later. “I wouldn’t go through last week again for a king’s ransom.”
“Thank God she has through,” said Alan fervently. The two men were at breakfast, the square they had had for a week.
“Any news?” asked Sir John, as Alan was the Post.
“Not much, Uncle John. There was a new Housing Bill up in the House last night. The Government very rocky. There are of a General Election. H’m. H’m—A in South America, I see. Five thousand people killed. Oh, and a or something in New Zealand. How shocking,” he on, “ten thousand there. Why, it’s as as a war!”
“No, it’s the States where the is,” said Sir John who had the Scotsman.
“No, South America,” Alan. “Listen—
“A has been at Lima, Valparaiso, and Buenos Aires. These three have great damage. Over five thousand people have been killed outright, while the list is greater. The was in Bermuda, New Guinea and as north as Kentucky.”
“Then there has been one in the States as well,” said his Uncle. And he read from his paper
“The Meteorological office at Pimenta that a has in New Jersey.”
“Later.
“News has now come through that Tennessee and Vermont have also. The of life is small the done to property. The have over, from their foundations. The supply is cut off, and in many places are burning.”
177“It all over America,” said Alan lightly. “I am we don’t go in for those little in this country.”
“Your time is short,” said Sir John with a sigh. “I shall miss you very much, my lad.”
“I shall miss you too, sir. But of I am looking to the expedition.”
The weather had been settled since the time when the Argenta had the terrible storm, on the day the birth of Desmond’s son. Slightly sultry, perhaps, but an occasional the heat.
The next day all the papers were full of the of that were in different parts of the world. Work in many places was disorganized, and a was that were at work Southern Europe which might that the would be nearer home.
Alan was to sail in two days, had been for him to Scotland the morning, when a wire came from Sir Christopher Somerville. “Postponing of Cavalier indefinitely. Fear to sail south. Awaiting report from Greenwich. Will you at of arrangements.”
“Well, it us a little more of your society, my boy,” said Sir John, and there was a pleased look in his eyes.
Alan up the paper. “My God!” said he suddenly, and his blanched.
“Following the news of the that have been America and the of the South American coast,” he read, “come of phenomena. In all parts of America, after cyclones, the land has in many places opened up, and men, animals and buildings. The of life is abnormal—rough are as high as 900,000 lives. Internal and in Tasmania have a panic among the population. The sea is too for the largest to sail upon. Natives are and with no idea of where 178to go for safety. Volcanic are taking place in where for thousands of years the have been extinct. Scientists are at present unable to account for this of nature. As we go to press, news has come through that Sydney has entirely. San Francisco is in ruins. The whole of Cape Colony has sea level—and the water has over the whole country, it. A later of this paper will be at noon, and at the and with news as it comes to hand.”
“It is the nature has us,” said Sir John.
“What I cannot understand,” said Alan, “is why it is in so many places at once. Different to have and different lands.”
All that day a had taken of the of the little cottage, and they were all very quiet. “Masters, over to Arroch Head,” said Sir John, about six in the evening, “and if you can no news, ring up the offices of the Scotsman. Tell the Editor you are speaking for me. He will give you the latest news, I am sure.” Masters was the hour, his blanched, his hands trembling.
“Well?” asked Sir John. “Is it as as all that?”
“It’s terrible,” Masters. “It’s nearer home. Rome has gone entirely—so have Naples and Athens. Spain and Portugal are under water. Authentic news is hard to get, as and in many places have failed. Some air were sent to investigate, and the of Spain. The air were so great that it was with the they managed to England in safety.”
“Do they think this will us?” asked Desmond, the picture of his wife and child his eyes.
“The Scotsman says that so the Meteorological Office reports no eighty miles in all of our coast. They out a hope, that 179being an island, we may escape,” said Masters brokenly.
There was no sleep for any one that night; but the came and with it a sky and a wind. There was not a hint of in the clear atmosphere. Hector got the big Napier out, and all but Desmond in to Arroch Head. He with Mavis, to keep all of from her ears. The little village was full of white men, and children, children their were frightened, yet nothing of the ahead.
“Any news?” asked Sir John, of old Weelum McGregor, the hotel keeper.
“Aye, sir, an’ it’s no guid. Paris is on fire the noo. There was an in the of Versailles yestere’en, and soon the were with lava. Paris fire, and every one is powerless to it.”
Three days passed. England and Scotland were isolated—entirely cut off from the world. They had just to wait and pray that their time of would not come. The night was dark, the wind and rose in gusts. The rain came in torrents. The rolled in the distance, and occasionally of up the horizon.
Mavis was very restless. “Is anything the matter, Dez?” she asked, as he sat by her bedside.
“Why, dear?”
“You look worried. You make me anxious.”
“I’ve been about you, my darling, that’s all,” and he to the woman.
Then there rose on the air a sound, than the of thunder, and the room was from without as though by a fire. Mavis rose up in bed; her were and she the sleeping still closer to her breast. “What is it, what is it, Dez? No, no, don’t me,” as Desmond was about to the room. He put his arms about her and to her as if she had been a baby. The noise was terrible—one 180long, roar. The room with the vibration, and the light from without and brighter.
Sir John entered. “Mavis, my dear, you mustn’t be frightened. Hector and Masters are the Argenta—we are going to take you up in her.”
“What is happening?”
“I don’t know, my dear, but Ben Lawers has out in flames. Schiehallion and Ben More in the are out heavy, dark smoke—I think it’s action. Now, we’ve talked the whole over, and we that the place is the airship.”
“But to the wind—could it live in such a storm?”
“It is the place,” said Sir John firmly. “We will you and in a hammock. Nurse has already packed you a store of clothes, and then we’ll all sail away to a more healthy spot.”
“Are you sure there’s no danger?”
“No, my dear! It’s a to see the old Ben out and flames. Lava is his into the Tay, and Killin is up so that you can see the houses as if it was day.”
Gently Mavis was to the ship, and aboard. There was no time to waste. Sir John had only told the truth to the invalid. The from Ben Lawers was already Dalmyrnie. The were being on the wind, and the men were and while they were the airship.
Feverishly Masters packages, and bundles, to those on board. A crash them—the at the of the had fire! It was an sight. Ben Lawers and and spluttered, the trees crackled—the whole was up with flames. In the the and Bens were to of fire, and the whole was like a page of Dante come true.
181“Everything aboard?” asked Sir John hoarsely.
“Yes,” said Alan.
“Where’s Nurse? Isn’t she coming?”
“No! I to her, but she wanted to to Arroch Head to her mother. I told her to take the runabout—she’s a good hand with the car.”
The nearer. Already their were the house. The was smouldering. Suddenly there came on their ears a explosion—the petrol had fire! The was unbearable. “It’s no good,” Sir John. “Let’s the and off.”
“Please God we shall soon be out of here, and shall be able to land in safety,” said Alan.
Scorched, with smoke, Masters one more effort. He his whole in safety! He up the ladder, the iron was in, and the great ship slowly moved, with her freight.
The Argenta and tossed, but Masters and Hector at the levers. Now they her right, now left; now she above the ten thousand feet, now low to avoid the air patches. Mavis was in her bed, her wide open in terror. Above the of the engines, came of thunder, and inspiring.
“I don’t understand,” she moaned. “What is happening?”
“It is to say,” said Desmond. “But I we are here than we should be on earth to-night.” And the night of passed.
Below, as they to and fro, the whole country was blazing. Dawn came, but an angry dawn. Dark clouds across the sky; the in the distance, and occasional of the angry heavens.
“Where are we?” asked Sir John.
“Over Edinburgh,” answered Masters from the other end of the ’phone, “we have moved for the last four hours.”
“What?”
182“The to work. I can’t make it out at all.”
The ship to one side—a the air, and they saw the Castle Rock shiver, up, and a on to the railway line beneath. In a minutes, Edinburgh, the Modern Athens, Edinburgh the Fair, was a of flames! They the populace, with fear, along the streets. “This is awful,” Alan. “Make south if you can. Let us away from this desolation.”
With a great amount of patience and skill, Masters at length managed to the to work. But they came upon and way they went,—indeed, the whole world to have down. They London, but the of the world had been the English city to from the terrible scourge. Blackened, charred, lifeless, London was a city of the dead.
As they in space over the London, they to out the familiar landmarks, but in vain—The Houses of Parliament were but a of and dust; gone was the Abbey of Westminster, to the ground was the Tower of St. Edward, to the Catholic Cathedral—gone was the Tower of London. There was not a of life in the once great city.
Aimlessly they in all directions. The whole of England was a mass. They for the Continent. It was true, Paris had gone; Brussels was no more; there was not a city left. Denmark was out,—and the sea up and over a that had once been Norway. At rent the air, and the the Argenta to perform many nerve-racking gymnastics.
“Head for the Atlantic if you can,” Alan in despair. For ten days they had over cities, lands, and waste voids. Navigation was almost impossible, the the this way and that; now her high, now her low. It was all very fearsome, very terrifying. Mavis 183was up, and with her in her arms she the men about, a figure. Landing was impossible—there was no place where they land. They had of water, of provisions, but they ate mechanically, what it was that Hector them with regularity.
They Europe sinking—the Atlantic was slowly but surely over lands and that had once been great empires.
The Argenta was wonderful; no what the were, she always herself. The heat, at times, was terrific, and the Argenta was to climb out of the of the below. Then the water of the to like steam—the Atlantic itself was boiling, and as it and hotter, the to less in size.
The was so that the Argenta rose to a great and among the clouds. After some days she descended, but to be in a new world altogether. There was a large of land out them—gone was the Atlantic in its vastness. Dead about—the of great ships were in the earth. Animals, humanity, fish, mixed together in that waste.
Suddenly Alan spoke, very reverently. “And the sea shall give up its dead.”
“The Atlantic?” Sir John.
“I think so,” answered Alan.
And as they there came a sound, than any they had before. The whole world shook, and for one moment was a of fire. Then it violently, into a thousand pieces, and from its and flames. Once more came the terrible sound, the of a world’s death cry; there was a crash, the out and where the world had been—was nothing.
All was black, all was gone; the earth had returned to its original state; the sea had entirely; shapeless, dark,—the earth was dead! And in her last 184convulsive on life, she the very heavens. The Argenta was and in a of agony, and then was into space.
With a Masters the shutters, and the with the ether. It was his last act. On, on the Argenta, at a speed. The of the let loose, and the in the was like a of in its grasp. Turning, twisting, rolling, the Argenta was on the of the whirlwind, and with its seven of Terra; seven that had from, but had The End Of The World.
185
BOOK IV
THE PERFECT WORLD
187
