Затерянный мир / The Lost World. Артур Конан Дойл

should say, sir,” said Lord John, with some sternness of voice, “that your turning up is a considerable relief to us, for our mission seemed to have come to a premature end. Even now I can’t understand why you should have worked it in so an extraordinary manner.”

      Instead of answering, Professor Challenger shook hands with myself and Lord John, bowed with ponderous insolence to Professor Summerlee, and sank back into a basket-chair, which creaked beneath his weight.

      “Is all ready for your journey?” he asked.

      “We can start tomorrow.”

      “Then so you shall. You need no maps now, since you will have the advantage of my own guidance. From the very beginning I had determined that I would myself preside over your investigation. As to the small trick which I played on you, it is clear that, had I told you all my intentions, you should have travelled out with me.”

      “Not, sir!” exclaimed Professor Summerlee, heartily. “So long as there was another ship upon the Atlantic.”

      Challenger waved him away with his great hairy hand.

      “It was better that I should direct my own movements and appear only at the exact moment when my presence was needed. That moment has now arrived. You are in safe hands. You will not now fail to reach your destination. From now I take command of this expedition, and I must ask you to complete your preparations tonight, so that we may be able to make an early start in the morning.”

      Lord John Roxton has hired a large ship, the Esmeralda, which was to carry us up the river. Our expedition was at the time of the dry season, when the great river and its tributaries were more or less in a normal condition. The current of the river was a slight one. No stream could be more convenient for navigation. For three days we went up a stream which was so enormous that from its centre the two banks were shadows upon the distant skyline. On the fourth day after leaving Manaos we turned into a tributary which was little smaller than the main stream. It narrowed rapidly, however, and soon we reached an Indian village, where the Professor insisted that we should land, and that the Esmeralda should be sent back to Manaos.

      He added that we were now approaching the door of the unknown country. Also he made each of us give our word of honour that we would publish or say nothing which would give any exact clue as to the whereabouts of our travels. It is for this reason that I have to be vague in my narrative, and I would warn my readers that it in no way can be taken as an actual guide to the country. Professor Challenger’s reasons for secrecy may be valid or not, but we had no choice but to adopt them, for he was prepared to abandon the whole expedition rather than modify the conditions on which he would guide us.

      It was August 2nd when we cut our last link with the outer world by saying goodbye to the Esmeralda. Since then four days have passed, during which we have hired two large canoes from the Indians, which we have loaded with all our belongings, and have enlisted two additional Indians to help us in the navigation. They are the very two, Ataca and Ipetu by name, who accompanied Professor Challenger on his previous journey. They seemed to be terrified at the prospect of repeating it, but as it was the chief’s will so that they had little choice in the matter.

      So tomorrow we disappear into the unknown. This account I am transmitting down the river by canoe, and it may be our last word to those who are interested in our fate. I have, according to our arrangement, addressed it to you, my dear Mr. McArdle. In spite of the continued scepticism of Professor Summerlee I have no doubt that our leader will make good his statement, and that we are really on the eve of some most remarkable experiences.

      Chapter 8

      Close To The New World

      Our friends at home may rejoice with us, for we are at our goal. We have not ascended the plateau yet, but it lies before us. Professor Summerlee is less persistent in his objections and keeps silence. We are sending home one of our local Indians who is injured, and I am giving this letter to him, with considerable doubts in my mind whether it will ever come to hand.

      When I wrote last we were about to leave the Indian village. I have to begin my report by bad news, for the first serious personal trouble (I pass over the incessant bickerings between the Professors) occurred this evening, and might have had a tragic ending. I have spoken of our English-speaking half-breed, Gomez – a fine worker and a willing fellow, but afflicted, I fancy, with the vice of curiosity, which is common enough among such men. On the last evening he seems to have hid himself near the hut in which we were discussing our plans, and, being observed by our huge negro Zambo, who is as faithful as a dog and has the hatred which all his race bear to the half-breeds, he was dragged out and carried into our presence. Gomez whipped out his knife, however, and but for the huge strength of his captor, which enabled him to disarm him with one hand, he would certainly have stabbed him. The matter has ended in reprimands, the opponents have been compelled to shake hands, and there is every hope that all will be well. As to the feuds of the two learned men, they are continuous and bitter. It must be admitted that Challenger is provocative in the last degree, but Summerlee has an acid tongue, which makes matters worse. Last night Challenger said that he never cared to walk on the Thames Embankment and look up the river, as it was always sad to see one’s own eventual goal. He is convinced, of course, that he is destined for Westminster Abbey. Summerlee rejoined, however, with a sour smile, by saying that he understood that Millbank Prison had been pulled down. Challenger’s conceit is too colossal to allow him to be really annoyed. He only smiled in his beard and repeated “Really! Really!” in the pitying tone one would use to a child. Indeed, they are children both – the one wizened and cantankerous, the other formidable and overbearing, yet each with a brain which has put him in the front rank of his scientific age. Brain, character, soul – only as one sees more of life does one understand how distinct is each.

      The very next day we did actually make our start on this remarkable expedition on two canoes. All our possessions fitted very easily, and we divided our personnel, six in each. In the interests of peace we put one Professor into each canoe. Personally, I was with Challenger, who was in a great mood, beaming with pleasure. I have had some experience of him in other moods, so I can say it is impossible to be at your ease and to be dull in his company, for one is always in a state of doubt as to what sudden turn his temper may take.

      For two days we made our way up a river, dark in colour, but clean, so that one could usually see the bottom. The woods on either side were primeval, and we had no great difficulty in carrying our canoes through them. How shall I ever forget the solemn mystery of it? The height of the trees and the thickness of the trunks were greater than anything that I could have ever imagined… We could dimly see the spot where they threw out their side-branches into Gothic upward curves. As we walked noiselessly stepping on the thick, soft carpet of vegetation, we were spellbound, and even Professor Challenger’s full-chested voice sank into a whisper. Alone, I should have been ignorant of the names of these plants, but our men of science pointed out the cedars, the great silk cotton trees, and the redwood trees. Animal life was rather poor, but a constant movement above our heads told of the world of snakes and monkeys, birds, which lived in the sunshine, and looked down at our tiny, dark figures. At dawn and at sunset the howler monkeys screamed together and the parrots broke into shrill chatter. Once some creature, an ant-eater or a bear, went clumsily in the shadows. It was the only sign of earth life which I saw in this great Amazonian forest.

      And yet we felt that human life itself was not far from us. On the third day out we heard a beating in the air, rhythmic and solemn. The two boats were floating when we heard it, and our Indians remained motionless, listening with expressions of terror on their faces.

      “What is it?” I asked.

      “Drums,” said Lord John, carelessly; “War drums. I have heard them before.”

      “Yes, sir, war drums,” said Gomez, the half-breed. “Wild Indians; they watch us every mile of the way, kill us if they can.”

      “How can they watch us?” I asked, gazing into the dark.

      “The Indians know. They have their own way. They watch us. They talk the drum talk to each other. Kill