Т. C. Бриджес
Приключенията на Мартин Крузо (9)

T. C. Bridges
Martin Crusoe (9)

Хляб и сол

Мартин не обърна внимание на Сципион. Той стоеше неподвижен и втренчено гледаше големия лемур.

— Горкият! — състрадателно каза той, като направи крачка напред.

Лемурът не можеше да разбере казаното от Мартин, но сякаш схвана неговия смисъл. Той не си направи труда да извади меча си и остана неподвижен. Мартин се приближи до него, тогава силите напуснаха воина и той падна на земята.

Младият мъж коленичи до него и му повдигна главата, докато Сципион се приближаваше.

— Не вярваш, масса Мартин! Той може преструва на умрял!

— Не, Сципион, виж в какво състояние е. Загубил е много кръв.

Подпомогнат от Сципион, Мартин премести ранения под една голяма скала и започна да превързва раните му. Лемурът имаше две дълбоки резки на лявата ръка и рамото и друга при слабините. Тяхната дълбочина показваше силата и остротата на орловата човка. Раните му не бяха смъртоносни, но загубата на кръв тревожеше Мартин.

Той свърши с превръзката.

— Дявол да го вземе, как ще го свалим? — отчаяно запита той, като се изправи и прецени на око ръста и тежестта на ранения.

— Аз мисля него оставиш тук, масса. Добър негър не може носи него.

Преди Мартин да отговори, великанът отвори очи и за голямо учудване на своите спасители седна на земята.

— По-внимателно! — каза Мартин.

Великанът се усмихна, сякаш разбра. Той произнесе няколко думи и протегна грамадната си ръка.

Мартин разбра, че иска нещо, но какво? Лемурът показа с пръст устата си и Мартин се досети.

— Иска вода! Къде е манерката, Сципион?

Сципион, който започваше да преодолява недоверието си, подаде манерката. Великанът бързо започна да пие.

Мартин му подаде месо и хляб и като извади малко пакетче сол, го предложи на пленника. След кратко колебание лемурът взе с два пръста сол, посипа хляба си и започна да яде.

Мартин разбра, че не бива да се страхуват от този човек. Каквото и да се случи, той щеше да бъде техен приятел.

След малко те бяха в пещерата. Когато влязоха в картинната галерия, великанът внезапно спря и се огледа. Изразът на лицето му се промени. Той падна на колене, наведе глава и вдигна ръце в знак на преклонение.

— Така си и мислех! — каза професор Дистън. — Това място е светилище за тях. Мартин, поздравявам ви, вие сте опитомил великана. Направи ли ви нещо?

— Не. Дадох му хляб и сол.

— Чудесно! Добре сте направил. Той ще бъде наш приятел, което много ме радва.

— Защо говорите така? Страх ли ви е от него?

— Има нещо, което ме плаши. По-късно ще ви обясня. Сега трябва да го заведем да си легне.

* * *

— Как е със здравето нашият пленник, професоре? — попита Мартин, като отпиваше от кафето.

— Засега добре. Има треска, но раните му бързо заздравяват.

— Много бих искал да разбера някои подробности за него.

— Аз вече понаучих нещичко — отговори професорът, като се усмихна. — Разбрах, че се казва Акон, и понеже е чистокръвен северняк, вероятно е син на вожд. Зная, че е на двайсет и четири години — обясни ми с пръсти.

— Чистокръвен северняк! — провикна се Мартин. — Професоре, ще разбере ли, ако му заговорим на норвежки език?

Професорът поклати глава.

— Едва ли! — каза той. — Съвременните скандинавски езици се различават много от езика, на който са говорили неговите прадеди, когато са слезли в Лемурия.

— Знаете ли, чувал съм, че в Исландия още се говори старият език. Децата разбирали старите скандинавски предания и песните на викингите.

Лицето на професора светна.

— Мисля, че имате право. Тук има една книга със скандинавски предания. Тя принадлежеше на бедния Кригер. След малко ще опитам.

След като закусиха, той отиде в стаята, в която почиваше Акон, и се върна след един час.

— Прав бяхте, Мартин — радостно извика професорът. — Трябваше да видите лицето му, когато започнах да му чета. Той съвсем се смая. Сега ще можем да научим езика му. По този начин ще разбера онова, което искам да зная за този необикновен остров!

Дистън беше напълно щастлив и доволен. Мартин си спомни загрижения вид на професора, когато снощи му говореше за опасността, която ги заплашва.

— А другият лемур? — попита той.

— Името му е Тър, както каза Акон. Тър дойде на себе си и сега е малко по-добре. Мисля, че можем спокойно да ги оставим под наблюдението на Сципион, докато ви покажа нашите динамомашини.

— Изгарям от нетърпение да ги видя — заяви Мартин, като последва професора, който го преведе през един силно осветен коридор, изсечен в скалата. Когато се приближиха до вратата, чуха глухото бучене на водопад.

Професорът отвори вратата и грохотът се засили. Той натисна един бутон и сноп ослепителна светлина обля една голяма струя черна вода. Тя падаше от свода, задвижваше инсталираната долу турбина и изчезваше в един тунел.

— Ето доставчика на необходимата ни енергия — извика Дистън в ухото на Мартин. — А най-хубавото е, че открихме този водопад.

— Значи цялата тази енергия е отивала напразно стотици години — каза Мартин.

— По-скоро хиляди — сериозно уточни професорът. — Уверен съм, че първобитните народи не току-така са издълбали тези пещери и тази канализация в скалата. Предполагам, че са я употребявали за мелници — може би са си служили с електричеството като нас. Знам ли?

— И тази вода ще тече в продължение на още хиляди години — каза Мартин.

— Не съм сигурен в това — каза професорът.

Докато говореше, скалата под краката им като че ли се повдигна и се заклати. Те чуха глухо подземно, но мощно бучене. Мартин се хвана за студената и влажна стена на пещерата.

— Какво е това? — попита той.

— Земетресение — отговори професорът, който също се опря на стената.

Мартин чувстваше как земята се люлее под краката му. След малко бученето утихна и настъпи гробна тишина.

— Гледайте — промърмори Мартин, — гледайте! Водопадът съвсем е спрял!

Наистина потокът беше изчезнал.

— Сигурно земните пластове са се разместили — каза професорът. — Веднага трябва да вземем предпазни мерки, защото ще останем без електричество. Това беше силен трус, Мартин.

— Често ли има земетресения?

— Много често, но обикновено по-слаби. От известно време трусовете зачестиха. Това е една от опасностите, за които ви говорих снощи.

Той спря. По лицето му беше изписана загриженост.

— Това ме плаши — продължи професорът. — След малко ще ви заведа от другата страна на езерото. Сам ще прецените опасността, която ни заплашва. Там ще видите гледка, която няма да забравите, докато сте жив.

IX. Bread and Salt

Martin paid no attention to Scipio. He stood as still as the great Lemurian himself, gazing fixedly up at him.

Then as he stared he noticed that the Lemurian’s blue eyes were glazed, and realized that the man was sorely hurt, and that it was only by sheer will-power that he kept his feet at all. Suddenly he felt desperately sorry for his splendid opponent.

“You poor chap!” he said pitifully; and stepped quietly forward.

The Lemurian, of course, could not understand the words that Martin said, but quite clearly he did understand the tone in which they were spoken. He made no effort to raise his sword, but stood quite still. Then just as Martin reached him, his giant strength went out of him, he slipped down quietly, and collapsed in a heap on the rock.

Martin dropped on his knee beside him, and lifted his head.

Scipio came up slowly.

“Yo’ be careful, Marse Martin. For all yo’ know, dat fellow is playing ’possum.”

“Nonsense! He’s half dead. Look at the way he’s been mauled. Why, he’s lost a quart of blood.”

With Scipio’s help he managed to drag him out of the fierce sun-blaze to the shadow of a deep rock shelf, and set about bandaging the wounds.

There were two ugly gashes in the left arm and shoulder, and another in the man’s side. Their depth showed the knife-like power of the great cliff-eagle’s beak. In themselves, however, the wounds were not dangerous—the real danger lay in the loss of blood.

Martin finished his bandaging.

“How in the world shall we ever get him down the mountain?” he asked in dismay as he stood up and looked at the massive length of limb of his patient.

“I reckon we’ll hab to leab him hyah, boss. It’s one suah t’ing dis nigger can’t carry dat man.”

Before Martin could answer the giant opened his eyes, and, to Martin’s amazement, sat up.

“Steady on!” said Martin quickly. “You must keep still.”

The giant smiled as if he understood, and the smile took all the grimness out of his face and made him look quite human. He said some words, and stretched out his great hand.

Martin saw that he wanted something, but was not quite sure what. The big man pointed to his mouth, then Martin understood.

“Water—that’s what he’s after. Where’s the bottle, Scipio?”

Scipio, who was getting over his nervousness, produced the bottle, and the Lemurian drank deeply.

Martin next opened a parcel of bread and meat. At the same time he took out a small packet of salt, and offered this to his prisoner. The Lemurian hesitated, and looked very hard at Martin. Then, seemingly satisfied, he took a pinch of salt, sprinkled it on a piece of the bread, and began to eat. Martin drew a long breath of relief. He knew how much bread and salt meant to the ancient Norsemen. Now he was sure that he, the Professor, and Scipio had nothing more to fear from this man. Whatever happened he was their friend.

The Lemurian ate like a starved man. With every mouthful his strength came back, and when he had finished he looked another man.

Even so, Martin hardly supposed he would he able to stand, let alone walk. But he rose easily to his feet and pointed downwards, evidently asking whether it was not time to start back.

“Dat fellow’s a libbing wonder, Marse Martin,” observed Scipio. “Yo’ couldn’t kill him wid an ax.”

“Don’t try, Scipio,” said Martin dryly; and led the way downhill.

A little later he brought him safely into the cave. The moment they stepped into the Painted Hall the giant pulled up short and looked around him. His expression changed, and suddenly he dropped on his knees and lowered his head, raising his hands with a strange gesture.

“I thought so.” It was Professor Distin’s voice. “This is their holy place. Martin, I congratulate you on taming the giant. Was he any trouble?”

“None. He took bread and salt.”

“Excellent. It was clever of you to remember that. Then he will be our friend, and I must say”—the Professor’s voice was suddenly grave—“I am glad of it.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Martin quickly. “Were you afraid of him?”

“There is something of which I am very much more afraid,” answered the Professor. “I will explain at some other time. Now we must get our patient to bed.”

The morning sun, pouring through the tall windows of the great cliff room, shone brightly on the snowy cloth of the breakfast-table, and on the piles of richly colored fruit which were always a part of every meal. Martin and the Professor had just taken their seats, and Scipio had brought in the coffee and the usual dish of deliciously grilled fish.

“How is he, Professor?” asked Martin.

“Doing very well indeed. He has little fever, and his wounds are healing fast. The man has the health of a savage together with the build and will-power of the Norsemen who were his ancestors.”

“I wish we knew something about him,” said Martin.

“I know quite a good deal already,” replied the Professor, with a smile. “I have found out his name, which is Akon. And as he is clearly a pure-blooded Norseman, I am practically certain that he is the son of a chief. And I know how old he is. He told me on his fingers. He is twenty-four.”

“Pure Norse, is he?” exclaimed Martin. “I say, Professor, I wonder if he knows the Norwegian language?”

“Impossible!” he answered. “Modern Norse is quite different from the language of the days when his forefathers landed on Lemuria.”

“But wait a minute! Surely I have read somewhere that they still talk the old language up in Iceland. Yes, and that even the children understand the ancient sagas, or Songs of the Vikings.”

The Professor’s face lighted up.

“Upon my word, I believe you are right,” he said. “And, as it happens, I have a copy of the sagas here. They belonged to poor Krieger. I shall try the experiment immediately after breakfast.”

The meal finished, he bustled off to where Akon was lying in bed, and it was nearly an hour before he came back.

“You were right, Martin!” he burst out. “He does understand. Of course, he cannot read; and as for me, I know very little of the language. But you should have seen his face light up when I read to him! He took it all in. We shall be all right now,” he went on. “Within a very short time we shall be able to understand one another; and I shall learn more about this extraordinary island.”

He was tremendously pleased and happy about it all; but Martin still had in his mind the memory of the old gentleman’s grave face the previous afternoon, when he had spoken of some mysterious danger which seemed to threaten them.

“How about the other man?” he asked.

“His name is Thur,” the Professor told him. “I got that out of Akon. Thur has got his senses back, but he is not fit to move. I think we can safely leave him and Akon in Scipio’s care while I show you our dynamos.”

“I’m awfully keen to see them,” declared Martin, as he followed the Professor out of the room.

The latter led the way down a passage cut, like the rest of the cave dwelling, in the living rock, and lit, like the rest, by electricity. As they came near a door he heard the deep, low roar of falling water.

The Professor opened the door, and the roar became deafening. He touched a switch, and a great glow of white light shone upon a solid column of shining black water which came plunging down through the roof, driving the turbine which was set in the opening beneath, then disappearing through an opening in the floor.

“All the power we want,” shouted the Professor in Martin’s ear. “And the beauty of it is that we found the fall just as it is now after we came here.”

“Then all that power has been wasting for hundreds of years,” said Martin.

“Thousands perhaps,” replied the Professor. “Though, mind you, I believe the ancient folk who cut this cave and the flume through which the water comes must have done so with a purpose. They may have used it for a mill, or for all we know they understood electricity as well as we do.”

“And here the water will go on running for thousands of years more,” said Martin.

“I am not so sure about that,” began the Professor, then stopped short. For as he spoke the solid rock beneath their feet seemed to heave and sway, and down below was a rumbling deep and hoarse, like the passing of hundreds of heavily loaded wagons.

Martin clutched at the cold, wet wall of the cave for support.

“What is it?” he gasped.

“An earthquake,” answered the Professor, who was also clinging to the wall.

Again the whole cave swayed dizzily. The motion was like that of a slow swell, the floor rising and falling beneath their feet. Martin felt sick and dizzy.

It passed, and the growling rumble died in the distance.

Dead silence followed.

“Look!” muttered Martin—“look! The stream has stopped!”

It had. Just as if a tap had been turned off, the waterfall had vanished.

“The bank has fallen in above,” said the Professor. “We must see to it at once, or we shall be left in darkness. Martin,” he added, “that was a bad shock.”

“Do you have them often?” asked Martin.

“Pretty frequently, but as a rule only slight tremors. Of late they have been getting worse. That, Martin, is part of the danger of which I spoke to you.”

He paused, and his face was very grave.

“That decides me,” he continued. “As soon as possible I will take you across the lake. Then you can judge for yourself the peril that confronts us. Now we must go and find where the stream is dammed.”

Outside was Scipio, looking badly scared.

“My golly, boss, dat was the worse one yet! I reckoned de roof was a-coming down on our heads.”

“Any damage done?” asked the Professor.

Scipio shook his woolly head.

“Broke a whole heap of crockery, sah. And dere ain’t no shops heah whar we kin buy cups and saucers.”

“I dare say we shall have enough to last us,” said the Professor, with a smile. “The worst of it is that it has cut off our water, Scipio. You had better get some dynamite and go up with Mr. Vaile and see to it.”

Martin and Scipio found that the block was caused by a great boulder which had rolled into the bed of the brook. But before they reached it, the water had risen above it, and was pouring over. So, as there was no need to do anything, they came straight back.

“Yes; the water began to flow again almost as soon as you had started,” said the Professor. “Very well, Martin, I will keep my promise, and as soon as we have had some luncheon, we will take the launch and cross the lake. I think I shall be able to show you something that you will never forget till your dying day.”