Т. C. Бриджес
Приключенията на Мартин Крузо (5)

T. C. Bridges
Martin Crusoe (5)

Златните великани

— Ти няма нужда бъхтиш, ти няма нужда вървиш бързо-бързо, масса Мартин — убеждаваше го Сципион. — Проклети диваци няма минат желязна врата.

— Доколкото знам, няма друг вход, господин Крузо — каза влизащият в този момент професор Дистън.

— Моля ви, не ме наричайте господин Крузо — прекъсна го Мартин.

— Разбрано, Мартин — отговори старецът с усмивка. — Ако сте готов, вървете след мен. Ще видите зрелище, каквото малцина са видели и което ще ви върне повече от хиляда години назад.

Той мина пръв в големия си кабинет. Наоколо цареше тъмнина. Мартин се спъна в един стол.

— Не трябва да палим лампите — обясни професорът. — Стъклата веднага ще бъдат счупени, ако нападателите видят светлината.

— Имат ли пушки?

— О, не! Те не познават барута, но имат прашки и големи лъкове. Прашките са оръжията на древните атланти, а лъковете трябва да са взели от северните народи.

— Няма ли да ни трябва оръжие? — попита изненадано Мартин.

— Имам револвер за всеки случай.

Професорът насочи джобното си фенерче към земята, запали го и се изкачи по голямата стълба. След това загаси фенерчето и хвана Мартин за ръката.

— Не вдигайте шум, ако ви е мил животът — прошепна той.

Мартин слезе по широките стъпала. Отдолу долиташе неясно клокочене и глухото ехо на гневни гласове.

Дистън заведе Мартин в една дълбока празна ниша в скалите. Чу се слабо щракване и внезапно блеснаха електрически крушки. Дъжд от стрели засвири във въздуха.

От другата страна на тъмния тунел, зад стоманените пръчки се полюшваше лодка, в която имаше около трийсетина мъже. Всички бяха едри, с медночервени лица, с изключение на двама-трима белокожи, но почернели от слънцето, които имаха червеникави коси. Бяха облечени в бели туники с втъкани златни нишки, шлемовете и щитовете им бяха обшити с масивни златни плочки.

Всички бяха въоръжени с лъкове, къси мечове и тежки, остри бронзови брадви.

— Желязната решетка ще издържи ли? — попита Мартин.

— Те не са вчерашни, че да се допрат до нея — отговори професорът. — Няма да ви казвам колко волта е токът, който минава през нея. Те знаят, че решетката образува непроходима преграда.

Последва мълчание. Нещо се раздвижи зад барикадата от щитове. Мартин чакаше тревожно. Изведнъж две голи тела се гмурнаха като видри в тъмната вода.

— Ще минат под решетката — прошепна Мартин.

Измина повече от минута. Мартин нетърпеливо наблюдаваше водното пространство, което отделяше голямата решетка от вързаната за кея моторна лодка. Нападателите се бяха гмурнали дълбоко, за да минат под решетката.

Двете глави се подадоха. Крушките осветяваха лицата им. Те се огледаха и отплуваха към моторната лодка, а след това се качиха на палубата й.

Скрит в дълбоката ниша, професорът следеше любопитното зрелище. Единият лемур се наведе и повдигна капака на мотора. В този момент професорът вдигна ръка и натисна един лост. Тръбни звуци разтърсиха въздуха и закънтяха като продължителна гръмотевица по дължината на тунела. Този шум излизаше от вътрешността на моторната лодка. Силен глас на непознат за Мартин език каза няколко заповеднически думи.

Лемурите скочиха от борда и изчезнаха в канала. След няколко минути те се подадоха от другата страна на решетката, където ги чакаше лодката, и се отдалечиха. Равномерните удари на тежките гребла понесоха лодката към езерото. Последваха дивашки викове.

Когато лодката изчезна от погледа на Мартин, той се обърна учудено към професора, който се усмихваше снизходително.

— Много просто — обясни той. — Грамофон с високоговорител. Колкото до произнесените думи, те са единствените, които зная на лемурски език. Означават: „Спасявайте се кой как може!“

— Горките хорица! Те навярно са си помислили, че това е някаква магия. Сигурен съм, че едва ли ще посмеят да се върнат.

— Кой знае? — каза замислено професорът. — Не забравяйте, че тези хора не са страхливци. Те са много решителни.

Той замълча и направи знак на Мартин да не говори.

— Слушайте — каза той.

Отчаян вик се чуваше от горните галерии.

— Помощ, масса Крузо! Помощ, господарю!

— Сципион вика — каза професорът и бързо се затича по стълбата.

V. The Golden Giants

“There ain’t no need to break your neck a-hurrying, Marse Martin,” suggested Scipio mildly. “Them folk ain’t a-going to git through the water gate, not in any sort of quick time.”

“There is no other way of getting in that I know of, Mr. Vaile,” said Professor Distin, who had just come into the room.

“Please don’t call me Mr. Vaile,” broke in Martin quickly.

“Very well, Martin,” answered the old gentleman, with a smile. “Now, if you are dressed, come with me. I will warrant you a sight such as few men have seen, something that will take you back a thousand years and more.”

He led the way into the big living-room. Here all was dark, and Martin stumbled against a chair.

“No lights,” explained the Professor. “It would not do. Although these windows are sixty feet above the lake, I would not give much for my glass if even a gleam of light were seen behind it.”

“What—they haven’t guns?”

“Hardly. They do not know what powder is. But they have slings and long bows. The slings are, no doubt, the old Atlantean weapons, and the bows they must have got from the Norsemen.”

“Now follow me,” he added. “Keep close, and do not on any account move away from me.”

“But don’t we want weapons?” asked Martin, in surprise.

“I have a pistol in my pocket, in case of emergency,” replied the other. “But the last thing I wish to do is to kill, or even injure, any of these people. We never have done so unless absolutely driven to it.”

“But you had a fight once. You told me you lost men.”

“Morton and Philips,” answered the Professor sadly. “The Lemurians got into the Painted Hall through a passage of which we did not know the existence. We had to kill seven of them in all.”

“But here is a weapon, if you want one,” continued the Professor, and he took down from the wall a great bronze battle-ax of which the handle was banded with gold. “We took that from one of the dead men.”

Martin took it, and followed his guide out into the Painted Hall. Flashing his little light upon the bare rock floor, the Professor picked his way among the pillars to the head of the great stairway, but on reaching this he switched off the torch again, and took Martin by the hand.

“Not a sound,” he whispered. “Not a sound now, if you value your life.”

With the warning he led Martin down the broad, smooth steps. From below came a confused splashing and the booming sound of deep voices. A smoky glare of light was reflected upwards from the tunnel.

Half-way down the Professor drew Martin into a deep niche in the rock wall. There was the snap of a switch, and all of a sudden the whole scene leapt out under the glare of the powerful electrics. At the same moment a shower of arrows came whizzing through the air.

Martin drew a long breath. The Professor had promised that he should see a strange sight, but this—this was beyond anything he could have dreamed of. For there, in the black rock tunnel, just outside the steel bars of the water gate, lay a craft that brought back memory with a flash to the picture-books of his childhood. With its high-beaked prow and raised stern, the shields lining its bulwarks, and the long oars protruding from port-holes in the sides, it was a Norse long-ship, one of those wonderful open craft in which the Vikings crossed the whole width of the stormy Atlantic from Denmark to Greenland and Vineland.

If the craft was wonderful, her crew were more wonderful still. There were about thirty of them. Not one was less than six feet high or forty inches round the chest. Most had skins of a pale golden brown, but two or three were quite fair under their coat of sun tan, and had long, yellow hair. Their splendid appearance was made more splendid by their dress—a sort of close-fitting tunic reaching to the knees, and made of a white fabric blended with gold thread. They wore helmets ornamented with gold, and their shields, too, were studded with great golden bosses.

Sandals were on their feet, bound with leather thongs which criss-crossed their sinewy legs; and for weapons they had not only bows, but short swords and battle-axes, the blades of which were of bronze, heavy and sharp as tempered steel.

“Fine specimens, eh, Martin?” said the Professor in Martin’s ear.

“Splendid,” whispered Martin. “But surely the gate will never hold against them.”

“They know too much to touch it,” answered the Professor dryly. “I shouldn’t like to say how many volts it is charged with.”

“Then what are they doing there at all?” demanded Martin.

“That is what I am here to find out,” replied the Professor. “They know as well as I that the gate forms an impassable barrier.”

There was a pause, but behind a barricade of shields in the bow of the ship something was happening. Martin waited in breathless suspense. All of a sudden two splendid figures, stripped stark naked, dived like otters into the dark water.

“They’re going to dive under the gate,” Martin said in a whisper.

Nearly a minute passed while Martin watched breathlessly the space of water lying between the gate and the wharf where lay the launch. It was clear that the invaders were going down to a great depth so as to avoid the electric barrier.

The dark water broke, and the two heads appeared side by side. The white glare of the electrics showed up every feature plainly; and Martin saw no look of fear in the eyes of either of them. Treading water a minute, they looked all round, then both swam towards the launch and caught hold of the stem.

“They’ll wreck her!” breathed Martin in alarm.

“I don’t think so. Besides—” And Martin saw a smile on the wise old face beside him.

The two giants pulled themselves aboard the launch. They stepped gingerly, glancing around in evident discomfort. A boat with no oars or sails was something they could not comprehend.

The launch rocked a little under the weight of the two Lemurians, who must each have weighed at least fifteen stone, and every ounce of it solid bone and muscle.

Still the Professor did not move. Well hidden in the deep recess, he watched the curious scene beneath.

One of the Lemurians stooped and ventured to lift the hatch over the engine. As he did so, the Professor raised his hand and pulled over a switch. The result was almost as startling to Martin as to the Lemurians. A blast of trumpets sent the echoes crashing up and down the tunnel, and out into the rocky fiord beyond. The sound came from somewhere inside the launch. It was followed by a voice, a thundering voice which roared out something in a language which Martin could not understand, but which sounded like a very vigorous command.

If Martin did not understand it, the Lemurians did, or, at any rate, they seemed to. They leaped overboard and disappeared into the depths of the channel. A few moments later they bobbed up on the far side of the water-gate, and were hauled aboard the long-ship. The ship instantly cast off. Oars were shoved out, the water boiled under the thrash of the long, heavy blades, and the beautifully designed craft went sweeping away towards the open lake, pursued by demoniacal shouts and trumpet blasts from the empty launch.

It was not until the long-ship was out of sight that Martin at last turned a wondering face to the Professor.

The latter smiled indulgently.

“Quite simple,” he said. “A gramophone with a megaphone attachment. As for the order, those were the only few words of the Lemurian language which we knew. They mean something like ‘Run for your lives.’ I had arranged it so as to be able to switch it on from here, and I may add that if it had not worked, I had a few more surprises up my sleeve.”

Martin burst out laughing.

“Bully!” he exclaimed. “The poor devils! They must have thought that the most awful magic they had ever run across. I’ll bet they’ll never come back.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” replied the Professor gravely. “Remember, Martin, these men are not savages. They have enormous pluck, and although their superstitious fears have got the better of them for the moment, I will warrant they will try again.”

He stopped short, raising his hand for silence.

“What’s that?” he said sharply.

Before Martin could reply there came a loud and desperate shout from above. “Help, Marse Distin! Help, boss!”

“It’s Scipio,” muttered the Professor, and was off up the great staircase with a speed surprising for a man of his years.