Post by California gal on Apr 24, 2012 7:09:42 GMT -8
THE NIGHT OF THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
A limbo large and broad, since call'd
The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
—Paradise Lost (bk. III, l. 495), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet, scholar, writer & patriot
A limbo large and broad, since call'd
The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
—Paradise Lost (bk. III, l. 495), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet, scholar, writer & patriot
Jim West started to lift his head and roll over, but allowed his head to drop back onto his arms as a wave of nausea assaulted his system. He realized he also felt hot and feverish, especially on his back and shoulders. A terrific roar seemed to be centered in his ears and brain…
“Jim?”
Hearing the hoarse call in a familiar voice, Jim forced himself to move now, pushing up onto his elbows first. The vertigo seemed to have subsided slightly, so he rolled over and sat up.
“What the devil?”
The words blurted from his mouth as he stared at the scene around him. He was laying on white sands, from which the brilliantly blindingly blue ocean stretched as far as he could see, the waves lapping at the sand. Further away he saw some rocks and cliffs where those same waves were crashing. The heat he had been experiencing came from the blazing sun, not a fever.
Remembering the voice that had caused him to move, Jim looked around further. Artemus was lying in a similar position as he had been moments ago, on his stomach, head resting on an outstretched arm. Beyond Artie was green; a very green and verdant forest… with palm trees and brilliantly colored flowers.
Artie started to roll over now, groaning as he did so. “What happen…?”
Artemus Gordon’s words trailed away as he saw the scenery that surrounded him and his partner, who was now sitting in the pure white sand a few feet away. “Jim?” He sat up. Now he completed his question. “What happened? Where are we?”
Jim’s head was clearing rapidly, aided by the anger he was feeling. “Loveless.”
Artie lifted a hand and was going to rub it across his face until he realized it was coated with sand. He rubbed it instead on his trousers. “Loveless? Did you see him?”
“No.” Jim climbed to his feet now, his hand falling to the pistol that was still in its holster at his hip. A comforting feeling as he looked around. Somewhere in the distance an animal roared. He did not recognize the sound. “Remember the picture?”
Artie stood as well, stiffening his legs to help keep his balance for a moment. “Picture?” He looked about him for a moment, remembering. The charming painting of a South Seas island nestled in a crystal blue sea, with pure white sands beaches and verdant forests.
“If you look closely,” Mrs. Timmons had said when Artie admired the picture, “you can see a lovely native girl peeking from behind the tree.”
Both men had stepped toward the painting, more to humor the white-haired woman than out of interest to see a native girl. They had been engaging her in conversation regarding one of her boarders, and it seemed the best way to get information was to socialize with her. She liked to talk, and had already served fragrant tea and cookies.
A tip from a reliable source to the department indicated a much-wanted man was residing in this boarding house in snowy Pocatello. Floyd Burkes had eluded capture when his gang was rounded up a few months before in Texas. The Burkes gang had robbed army payrolls with impunity for several years. West and Gordon were free and relatively nearby in Washington State, so they had been sent to check on the tip.
The neat house with braided rugs and crocheted antimacassars, not to mention the frail appearing white-haired Mrs. Timmons seemed an unlikely place to find a thug like Burkes, but stranger things had happened. When they identified themselves to her, she seemed awed that such famous agents would be calling on her, inviting them into the lovely parlor for the refreshments while they talked.
To warm her up, Artie had commented on a few of the decorative items in the room, the crystal vase on the corner table, a beautiful fireplace screen in front of the crackling fire, and the painting of the island, which indeed was inviting to look at on such a cold day. It had been good to shed their heavy coats in her foyer and accept the hot tea.
“Yeah,” Artie said then, “the picture.”
“He transported us. He must have. I remember now hearing a tone.”
Artie nodded. “A musical tone, similar to that day at Morgan’s ranch. My God, Jim! Where are we?”
“In that painting. Just like before. Only…” Jim was looking around. “I don’t see any other pictures that would give us an exit.” The animal roared again, and sounded closer.
Artie looked toward the surrounding trees. “Wonder what we’ll find in there.”
Jim shook his head. “Could be anything. I’m not sure how the paintings work, not completely.”
Artie nodded. “I have thought about that. Like the town we were transported to. Had he painted layers for the interior of the saloon? If we tried to enter any other buildings, would they have been just… flat?”
“Who knows how many layers he painted here. Somewhere there must be a way out.”
“Do you think so?”
“Look at it this way, Artie. We’re dealing with Miguelito Loveless. He’s not going to be satisfied to simply… exile us this way. He knows whatever he’s put in that jungle. He will eventually give in to his curiosity to check on our fate. And if he comes, he has got to have a way out.”
“Then it behooves us to do some exploring.” Artie reached down to touch his own pistol. “At least we have these.”
“And other weapons,” Jim agreed, thinking of the explosive putty in his boot heels among other items.
“Might need them if that animal is as big as it sounds.”
Jim was looking up at one of the trees. “I’ve heard that natives can climb those trees.”
“Be a good vantage point, that’s for certain.”
Jim began to pull off his jacket, his gaze moving over the several taller trees. Most were various species of palm but he did not recognize them all. Tropical trees. Or something simply created by Loveless when he did the painting? He was aware Artie had stepped closer to him, and did not react when his partner spoke in a low voice.
“Do you suppose Loveless already has spies here? Someone is behind that bush with the yellow flowers.”
Jim did not reply, casually tossing his jacket on the sand and moving as though he was still inspecting the trees to find the best one for climbing. He approached a tall, sturdy palm growing next to the bush with lush dark green leaves and brilliant, large yellow flowers, and put his hand against the trunk for a moment.
He moved in a flash, stepping between the tree and the bush and grabbing the arm of the person crouched there. He was unsure who was more surprised then: himself or the woman he dragged out. Not a native woman, as Mrs. Timmons had assured them they would see, but a woman in a faded calico dress, her glossy black hair trailing over her shoulders. No doubt the “native girl” was just a ruse!
“Let me go!” she cried, pulling against his grip.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Jim demanded. Had Loveless actually sent a woman to spy on them?
“My name is Rose Timmons and you know more about why I’m here than I do, I’m sure!” Recovering now, she stood straight, her brown eyes glaring at the two men.
“Rose Timmons?” Artie echoed. “Are you related to the lady at the boarding house?”
“That’s my boarding house! My home!”
Jim exhaled a breath, looking at Artie for a long moment. He released her. “Do you know Dr. Loveless?”
“No, but I know who he is now. The others told me.”
“Others? There are others here?” Artie was more than a little startled.
“Six of us. Are you… were you trapped too?” She looked at each of them in turn.
“You could say that,” Jim replied with a sarcastic edge to his tone. “My name is James West. This is my partner, Artemus Gordon. We are government agents.”
Comprehension appeared on her pretty face. She was in her mid to late twenties and quite attractive with golden brown eyes. The hem of the calico gown was stained and looked like it had been wet. “I’ve heard of you. And Mr. Greave mentioned your name. In fact…” Now she shook her head slightly, her expression rueful. “In fact, he said you would likely be the ones who would rescue us!”
“George Greave?” Artie asked, mentioning the name of a Denver attorney both agents knew well. “He’s here?”
“Just where is ‘here’?” Jim put in before she could respond. “Is it a country…?”
“It’s an island. About a half mile wide and a mile long.”
“How long have you been here?” Artie wanted to know.
“Four days, I think. What is today? Or what was it when you… left?”
“Friday the fourth,” Artie answered.
Rose nodded. “This is my fourth day. It was Tuesday when the old lady came.”
“The one who passed herself off as the landlady, I presume.” Jim remembered the oh-so-sweet and slightly forgetful old woman with snow-white hair and twinkling blue eyes.
“I guess so. She said she wanted a room. I showed her what was available, and when we came downstairs, she asked if she could sit a few minutes. I brought her some tea—first asking if she wanted sugar or milk with it. She said no. But after we sat down and I poured, she changed her mind. She would like some sugar. So I went back to the kitchen for it. We drank our tea, I felt strange… and woke up on this beach.”
“So you did not see the painting, of course,” Artie nodded.
“No. The others told me about it. None of us understand how it could possibly have… done this.”
“I don’t understand the whole concept,” Jim said, “but both Artemus and I have experienced it before. Where are the others?”
“About a quarter mile that way.” She motioned to the south. “There’s another beach, slightly larger, with fresh water nearby. I was out gathering fruit when I heard your voices.”
“Well, I guess we should meet our fellow travelers,” Artie smiled. “Lead the way, Mrs. Timmons.”
Being reminded of her marital status, Jim grabbed his jacket and spoke as they started toward the trees. “What about your husband? Wouldn’t he have been missing you?”
She glanced back with a sad smile. “He died some years ago I’m afraid. I don’t have any near kin, so it’s unlikely anyone is really looking for me. I’m sure the old lady had a facile excuse to answer questions my other boarders might have.”
“No doubt,” Artie concurred as they pushed in through the heavy growth. Loveless would have taken such into account. “He’ll probably even have stories set up in regard to the fact that we had been sent to your boarding house seeking a wanted criminal.”
Rose looked at him, startled. “A wanted criminal? In my house?”
“I doubt it,” he smiled. “We’ll tell you more later. Lead on.”
Despite that they were mostly shaded by the thick growth of trees, both men began to perspire freely, as did Rose Timmons. Artie saw how the back of her cotton dress clung to her skin, and realized that if she had been wearing a corset at the time of her “kidnapping,” she had since shed it out of practicality. He pulled off the corduroy jacket he had worn under his heavy winter coat and carried it, feeling the perspiration trickling down his back and chest, not to mention his face. The humidity was thick, so that while shade at least blocked out the rays of the sun, the air remained heavy and moist. Just the opposite of being in Denver, say, where the air is thin because of the altitude. Both can have a deleterious effect if one is unused to it.
The second beach was, as Rose had stated, somewhat larger than the one they had awakened on. A clear spring bubbled over some rocks and formed a pool just inside the forest abutting it. On the beach, the agents met their fellow “travelers” as Artie called them.
One was George Greave, a Denver attorney with whom they had worked on a federal case sometime earlier. He was about forty-five now, his blond hair showing lighter streaks of silver. He was a bit on the stocky side, but Artie knew that many Denver women considered the widower a handsome and very eligible man.
They were more than a little surprised that a married couple was among the group. Chester and Mina Berwick were in their thirties. He was a tall thin man with almost no hair on his head despite his relatively young age, with a pointed chin that his goatee did nothing to disguise, if that was its intent. Mina Berwick was shorter by a good foot or more, a bit plump, with rosy cheeks and deep dimples. Despite their current situation, she had a broad smile for the newcomers.
The fourth was a youth, probably not more than twenty or twenty-one, Jim judged, with a very boyish face that caused him to appear even younger, and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles. His name was Giles Yost, and by the clothing he currently wore, he was probably a clerk or something similar in an office or store. Why in the world would Loveless want to include this kid?
And the fifth “traveler” was even more puzzling. A minister. The Reverend Elijah Klotz still wore his clerical collar, though he had shed his coat and his sleeves were rolled up above his elbows. He was silver haired, though Artie thought he was likely no more than fifty, and appeared to be in very good health, with a barrel chest and sturdy legs.
A rather large fire was burning at the back of the beach, near the edge of the wooded area, very large for such a warm day. Greave saw Jim looking at it and spoke up. “We put the fire there because it discourages the… the creature.”
“We heard the roar,” Jim responded and even as he spoke, the howl was heard in the distance. “What kind of animal is it?”
Chester Berwick’s face was grim. “We don't know. We haven’t seen it. But it comes near the camp at night. We hear it. It doesn’t come near during the day.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?” Mrs. Berwick asked.
Artie looked at her in surprise. “Coffee or tea? How…?”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Reverend Klotz stated. “We keep finding boxes containing supplies and a few tools.”
“It seems Dr. Loveless does not want us to perish immediately,” Greave said acidly.
Now Jim asked, “How are each of you connected with Loveless? Why would he send you here? We know about Mrs. Timmons and her boarding house.”
At Mina’s suggestion, coffee was poured into tin cups and they all made themselves comfortable in the sand, in the shade of the trees, and out of the blazing tropical sun. George Greave told his story first. Three years ago he had acted as a prosecuting attorney in a case against a murderer, who was convicted and hanged. He learned later that Miguelito Loveless was incensed because that man had possessed some information he desired and had been unable to obtain.
More recently, Greave had occasion, as a defense attorney, to refuse to assist another attorney whose client had been one involved in a case in Denver—a case where Loveless kidnapped Artemus Gordon and attempted to kill both Gordon and West. (See The Night of the Deadly Ransom.) The two agents nodded; they had been in Denver to testify at that trial. The man had been convicted and sent to prison for a long sentence.
“Apparently Loveless doesn’t forgive easily,” the attorney stated. “A few days ago a man came to my office, claiming to be the valet of a very ill man who needed my services with his will. Since his employer could not come to the office, would I come to his house? I recognized the name and the address and so I had no suspicions. It was a trap. Loveless was there. I was quite puzzled when he insisted I step over to inspect a lovely portrait of a tropical island. And suddenly I was here.”
“Now that’s odd,” Artie murmured, exchanging a glance with Jim.
Jim concurred. “Loveless is vengeful but we’ve never known him to go after people, like yourself, whose ‘crime’ against him might seem petty by the standards set by Artemus and myself! Mr. Berwick?”
“I own a factory in Omaha, Mr. West. The factory specializes in manufacturing specialty metal parts to order. Quite often inventors, or people trying to improve a product, place the orders and we create the piece they need. Some months ago, we started receiving orders from a ‘Mr. Liefdeloos.’ The items he wanted seemed quite strange but harmless to begin with, but as the orders continued to come in I began to wonder. I did quite a bit of work for the military before and during the war, and still get orders for specific pieces for weapons. These coming from Mr. Liefdeloos were very similar, but I knew that inventors and companies were working on improving weapons all the time.
“One day one of our immigrant workers happened to notice the name on one of the blueprints. He laughed and I asked him why. He said that ‘liefdeloos’ meant loveless in Dutch. That of course aroused my suspicions even further. Like many others, I’ve heard of the nefarious Dr. Loveless. I turned the information over to the military and they concurred that the pieces looked as though they could be for a weapon of some sort. We attempted to set up a trap whereby I wrote to ‘Mr. Liefdeloos’ and asked him to come to the factory because I needed information from him. But he never showed up, and no more orders came in.”
“So by interrupting his ‘work,’ whatever it was, you became a target of his vengeance,” Artie said.
“Yes, apparently so. Last week I received an invitation to a meeting in Denver. The invitation indicated that a number of men in similar businesses as I were gathering to discuss ways to make our work more efficient and profitable. As a good portion of the expenses was covered, I thought it was a good idea to go, and Mina wanted to come with me. I saw no harm in it. The first event scheduled was a dinner at a large mansion at the outskirts of town. Although wives were not mentioned, again I saw no reason why Mina should not accompany me. She helps me with my work a great deal.
“We arrived and quickly realized we were the only guests present. It did not seem all that unusual initially; I thought we were simply early. However, then Dr. Loveless appeared and introduced himself. As happened with George, we were encouraged to inspect a portrait and suddenly found ourselves here. How does he do it, Mr. West?”
Jim sighed. “I can only explain the basics. But we’ll go into that later. Reverend Klotz?”
The minister shook his head in bemusement. “I had never heard of Dr. Loveless until I landed on this island. I have a small church in Pocatello. Giles is a member of my congregation. One day I received an urgent message from another member, an elderly lady, who said she needed my help and advice at once. She was living, she said, in a boarding house. Giles was assisting me that day and he offered to transport me in the carriage he had come in.
“So we traveled to the boarding house in questions—which of course was Rose Timmons’ home, although she was no longer there. Miss Lewis, my parishioner, met me at the door and upon seeing Giles waiting in the buggy, invited him in as well. I know now it was because they did not want him to be able to tell anyone I had entered that house. In any case, we went into the parlor, were served tea… and woke up here.”
“And you have no idea why Loveless would do this to you?” Artie inquired.
“None at all. I’ve listened to the others’ tales and thought and thought about it. I have no idea when and where, or if, our paths crossed, and what harm I did him, if any.”
Jim tersely related what had happened to him and Artemus. “It makes sense that Loveless would want to trap us. We have interacted with him often over several years, and have generally been able to foil his plans.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Artie took up, “that he would exact vengeance on you for such petty ‘infractions’ against him. Something more is going on here. No doubt it primarily involves Jim and me, and for that I humbly apologize for bringing you in on it.”
“It can’t be entirely your fault,” Rose protested. “This doctor must be insane.” She hesitated a moment, her brown eyes beseeching. “Is there no way we can return to our homes?”
“There might be,” Jim replied. “And should be. We just have to find it. Another painting. Have you explored the island? Mrs. Timmons said you discerned the length and breadth…”
Greave was shaking his head. “Berwick and I paced the perimeter, Jim. That creature—whatever it is—doesn’t approach the camp here during the day, and doesn’t appear to come to the shore at any point, but when we attempted to go through the… the jungle, it did come near. As long as we stay near the shore, it’s all right.”
“That’s why I was safe when I was looking for fruit,” Rose put in.
Artie sipped his coffee. A very good roast, of course. Nothing but the best for Loveless. “What other supplies have you received?”
“Pots and pans,” Mina Berwick said. “Some flour, bacon, eggs, potatoes—other staples. I wish he would send a new dress. These are the same clothes I wore when we were sent here!”
“Hammers and saws,” young Giles added. “And an ax. Nails.”
“As if the doctor expected you to build homes,” Jim noted wryly.
“We may need to if we can’t find the way off,” Artie stated. “Where do these boxes appear?”
“Right here,” Berwick replied. “We wake up in the morning, and they are right there along the perimeter of the beach.” He pointed to the side, where some rocks and scrub brush grew.
Rose nodded. “We never hear a thing!”
“I take it none of you have weapons,” Jim said.
“Just a couple of jackknives,” Greave answered. “I’m very glad to see you have your pistols. I don't know whether they will be effective against… the beast, seeing as we have not seen it and have no notion of its size or anything else. But it’s comforting.”
“Actually, it’s odd that Loveless did not remove them before he transported us,” Artie commented. “Makes me wonder if someone made a mistake.”
Jim climbed to his feet. “Maybe someone did.” He gazed out over the azure water. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a boat out there.”
“No,” George replied. “Nothing. Just us. I was the first one here and for probably twenty-four hours I wondered if I was going to spend the rest of my life here alone. Then Reverend Klotz and Giles showed up, just as confused as I was.”
“We were next,” Berwick inserted. “When we started discussing the situation, George and I came to realize we had Loveless in common.”
The Reverend Klotz sighed. “And I have no idea why I was selected. Poor Giles simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Rose Timmons spoke acidly. “Of course, he needed my house to trap Mr. Gordon and Mr. West. So here I am.”
“Will we have to stay here forever?” young Giles wondered.
“Not if we have anything to do with it,” Artie returned. He looked at his partner. “Jim, what do you say we do some exploring?”
“Just what I had in mind.”
“You mustn’t go into the jungle!” Mina cried. “The creature…”
Jim patted the handle of the pistol at his hip. “This might discourage it.”
“What do you think you’ll find?” Greave asked.
“That’s a very good question,” Artie responded with a wry smile. “Quite honestly, I have no idea. We’ll inform you later what we do—and do not—find. Ready, Jim?”
Jim was looking around. “You don’t happen to have a canteen of any sort do you?”
Rose shook her head. “Only the coffee pot and cups.”
“You may encounter other fresh springs,” Berwick suggested.
“Hope so. Even in the shade, it’s not cool here.”
The two men pushed in through the brush that surrounded the beach and soon found that the going was going to be similarly difficult all the way through. The trees were tall but the ground was covered with brush and vines, making it necessary to step carefully or be tripped. Jim held his small knife in his hand to cut through some stubborn vines, but it was not easy.
“What do you think?” Artie asked after they were well out of earshot of the beach.
Jim shook his head. “Other than it’s another damned trick of Loveless’s, I have no idea. Why would he bring these other people here?”
“That’s almost a bigger question than how are we going to get back.”
“Actually,” Jim said as he paused to saw through a vine that had grown between two tree trunks, “getting back is simple. We just have to find the painting Loveless is sure to have here somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Artie chuckled. Then he sobered. “It’s entirely possible that Loveless is on the island too.”
“That occurred to me. It’s not like him to stay away. We know too well how he wants to be in on the kill, so to speak. He’d at least want to have a chance to taunt us.”
“Jim, have you noticed that while the flowers are different colors, they appear to be pretty much the same species—and a species I’ve never seen before. A cross between a hibiscus and perhaps an iris.”
“Uh-huh. If, as we speculated, Loveless had to create everything, he might not have wanted to take the time to paint specific items. Antoinette may have done the flowers while he created the island.”
“How in the world he does he do it? I know you explained what he told you as best you could, but it really doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Metaphysics, Artie. Metaphysics. I’m pretty sure that’s the key to it all.”
“Yeah. And not many people understand that concept well, including me!”
“No use worrying about it now. We do know what to do once we find that other painting. Damn, it’s hot!” Jim had already rolled up his sleeves after divesting himself of his jacket and vest at the beach camp, as well as the tie, and opened his collar. Formalities were absurd here. He rubbed his bare forearm across his forehead and found it did little good to relieve the trickling perspiration .
Artie, who had shed clothing as well, was about to commiserate when a loud roar sounded ahead of him. Both men halted in their tracks. “Well,” Artie murmured, “sounds like ‘the creature’ has a greeting for us.”
“I want to get a look at it.” Jim pushed through the newly severed vine toward the sound. He judged that the animal was some hundred yards away.
“It kind of sounds like a lion,” Artie commented softly.
“Yeah. And also like a bear!”
“Something the good doctor created artistically?”
“That’s what I would like to find out!”
They moved on silently, trying to select areas between trees where little brush or vines were growing, but found that strategy was not entirely feasible. The lushness of the vegetation was astonishing. Of course, Artie mused, apparently Loveless just painted it in with brush daubs. Like the flowers, he likely did not take great care to differentiate leaves and branches.
Artie marveled at the time it must have taken to create the painting. The ones they had seen in Morgan’s home were relatively simple—structures, people, perhaps a landscape. He had probably only detailed areas where he planned to hide the thugs who would exit to commit robbery and mayhem. Inside each painting, however, had to exist another painting that would allow the henchmen to return to Loveless.
I would love to know the details of how this was done. But it is highly unlikely I’ll ever learn. Loveless is not going to reveal it; that is certain!
The creature bellowed again. Jim paused and looked back at his trailing partner. “Sounds like it’s moving away.”
“Just what was I was thinking. Maybe we’d better move faster.”
They did so, continuing in the direction from where the sound appeared to emanate. However, suddenly they emerged out of the trees and were standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The drop was probably some fifty feet.
“Now, that’s interesting,” Jim muttered. “Where did it go?”
Artie shook his head. They had heard no sounds other than the animal’s cry. No crashing of brush, no footsteps. Nothing. He stepped out to peer down the cliff toward the surf, and in each direction, which consisted of more steep cliffs; what sandy beaches he saw were very narrow and appeared to have no access. No sign of any animal anywhere.
They reentered the jungle cautiously, and continued to be wary as they surveyed the area for another two hours. As the sun began to sink deeply in the west, they made their way back to the “home beach.” Rose was kneeling at the fire, stirring something in a kettle, and she leapt to her feet upon spying them. Jim could not help but notice that she was now barefooted.
“You’re back!” she cried, superfluously.
Jim smiled. “The beast didn’t consume us, if that’s what you mean.”
George Greave turned from the stack of wooden crates he had been chopping up with the ax. “Did you see it?”
“Nope,” Artie replied, and told them what had happened. “When we made our way back through the woods, we didn’t even hear it.”
“Then where did it go?” Giles wanted to know. He had been sitting with Mina, peeling some potatoes.
“We also didn’t see any tracks,” Jim said.
“That’s odd, isn’t it?” Rose asked, looking from one to the other.
“You’d certainly think we’d find something,” Artie nodded. “However, not knowing what kind of animal it is…” Not to mention the fact that Loveless apparently created it! He looked around. “Where’s Mr. Berwick?”
Greave chuckled. “One thing we did not mention to you, and should have. Of course, we have our, er, needs for privacy from time to time. The next beach down that way is a small one, and we have created a sort of powder room there. We dug a latrine of sorts to be used when needed. The user simply covers that portion over with sand. And to help ensure privacy, see that yellow flag there?” He pointed toward a bush on slightly higher ground in the direction he had originally indicated. “Just lay that out and you won’t be disturbed. Be sure to remove it when you return.”
Jim laughed. “Very clever. Thanks for telling us.” Even as he spoke, Chester Berwick appeared around that bush, picking up the cloth, which appeared to be a handkerchief or napkin, and sticking it on the back of the bush, away from the inhabited beach. He glanced at his partner and saw the thoughtful expression on Artie’s face. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am.
The meal was nothing fancy, but it was filling. Mina and Rose had concocted a stew with the potatoes and other vegetables found in the crates, along with fish that the men had caught in the blue water. Artie was a bit surprised to learn that fish were available.
“How in the world did he do that?” he asked, looking at Jim.
His partner shrugged. “This is Loveless, don’t forget. Who knows, perhaps he sneaks in at night and dumps a bushel basket full in the ocean!”
Greave asked again about the mechanics of the device that transported them, and the agents explained as best they could. Although Jim had received the explanation from the doctor, Artie comprehended it somewhat better. Nonetheless, as he freely admitted, the details were beyond him. “I wonder if even Loveless understands it all.”
“What does he plan to do with us?” Mina wanted to know, finally.
To this the agents could only shake their heads. “Easy to see why he would want vengeance on Artemus and myself,” Jim said, “but this is a new direction for him. I’m sure he’s had others who caused him trouble. There’s more to it, I’m sure. But we just don't know what it is.”
“And may not know until he decides to come and tell us,” Artie added.
Giles eyes widened. “Do you think he will come himself?”
“At some point,” Artie nodded. “Chances are good he has already been here, possibly even to spy on you.”
Chester looked toward the jungle, even darker now that the sun was sinking. “I wonder if we’re the last he’s going to… to send here.”
“That’s a good question,” Jim nodded. “But I don't think it’s something we should worry about for the moment. Our concern is survival. As long as Loveless sends the supplies, it appears we’ll be fine.”
Mina gasped. “You don’t think he’ll stop!”
Artie had to laugh drily. “With Miguelito Loveless, you never know. He’s a very unpredictable man in many ways.”
W*W*W*W*W
Darkness now rose,
As daylight sunk, and brought in low-ring Night
Her shadowy offspring.
—Paradise Regained (bk. IV, l. 397), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet, scholar, writer and patriot
Darkness now rose,
As daylight sunk, and brought in low-ring Night
Her shadowy offspring.
—Paradise Regained (bk. IV, l. 397), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet, scholar, writer and patriot
The creature awakened the sleepers deep in the night, roaring nearby in the jungle. Both Jim and Artie sat up, but immediately noticed that their fellow campers merely rolled over. After several nights, the presence and threatening sounds from the beast did not bother them. Their “beds” were blankets thrown on the sand. The night was warm enough that no covering was needed. The agents had been told that whoever awakened in the night should check the fire, so both did so, adding wood. Then Jim buckled on his gun and picked up a blazing stick.
“What are you going to do?” Artie asked.
“Go hunting.”
Artemus quickly grabbed his own gun and another burning piece of wood to follow. Neither had felt easy removing their boots, even while noticing that others had taken off their footwear to sleep. Both Rose and Mina were barefoot during the latter part of the day as they completed their chores. Rose had laughed when she saw Jim noticing her bare feet.
“The sand just keeps getting in my shoes anyway!”
The two men skirted the now roaring fire and pushed into the jungle. Just a few feet inside, they stopped to listen. The only sounds were those of the waves lapping on the beach. No breeze stirred the leaves above and certainly no animal was heard thudding around. The makeshift torches did not shed much light in the deep darkness. The nearly full moon made little dent into the gloom.
Jim started to move and Artie followed. Again, they had to watch the ground ahead of them to avoid vines and branches and keep from tripping. No sounds except their own movements were evident. After about fifty feet, Jim paused again.
“What do you think?” Artie asked softly.
Jim shook his head slightly. “I don’t understand why we didn’t hear it crashing through the brush.”
“Yeah.” They again stood in silence for long seconds, listening, gazing around. Then Artie spoke. “Jim, were you thinking what I was when George was telling us about the ‘powder room’?”
“Probably,” Jim responded, still keeping his eyes on their surroundings. “That would be a perfect opportunity for one of the stranded to communicate with someone from Loveless’s gang.”
“Yeah. If we have a spy among us. It could be almost any one of them, especially because the only one we know is George.”
“That doesn’t rule him out.” Artie grimaced with the thought.
“Right. I wonder when we’re going to hear from the good doctor.”
“That’s a good question. We might as well…”
Jim stopped his words as Artie suddenly gripped his arm with his free hand and nodded toward the left. Looking that way, Jim saw what his partner did, a shadow moving among the trees. Instantly Jim dropped his torch and set off at the run, drawing his pistol. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that his partner was right behind him.
“Where’d he go?” Artie gasped as they halted some hundred yards later, after weaving through the trees and shoving through vines and bushes.
Jim drew a deep breath and let it out. Perspiration was pouring off his forehead, even during this slightly cooler nighttime temperature. “I don't know. Last I saw him was right in here.”
The two men looked around, breathing deeply to get their wind back. The humidity played havoc with their stamina; that was certain. The terrain here looked no different than what bordered the beach—palm and other trees, heavy brush and vine. Very little bare ground was visible. No sites where the man they pursued could have dived in a whole or behind a rock. No rocks in this part of the island.
“Guess we’d better head back,” Artie muttered after a few minutes. “You don’t suppose it was someone from the camp.”
“I have no idea. I’m not even sure if it was male or female.”
They walked in silence, more aware now of the darkness around them, after disposing of their torches. Jim tripped once when his boot got caught in a vine, and was saved from falling when Artie grabbed his arm. Both were a little surprised to find their “torches” were still flickering. They picked up the burning sticks and made sure that nothing on the ground had been ignited. It was damp but some dryness existed among the dying vegetation.
When they stepped out onto the beach, Giles Yost sat up. “Did you find anything?”
“Nothing,” Artie replied, and Jim did not dispute him. Although they had not discussed it, both knew it was a good idea to not mention the shadowy figure. All the beach residents were present, and it seemed unlikely that any of them could have run the distance that he agents had chased the person, and still made it back here to a blanket without being noticed. Especially if Giles was awake the entire time.
Unless of course Giles is in on it, Artie sighed inwardly as he removed his belt and lay down again. We’ve been here only a few hours and except for George Greave, known these people for only that length of time. We have to accept their stories. Who knows whether they are all true or all false? Caution is the word. Caution and continued diligence to try to find Loveless’s exit. It has to be here. We know that.
W*W*W*W*W
Cum quod datur spectabis, et dantem adspice!
[While you look at what is given, look also at the giver.]
—Thyestes (CCCXVI), Seneca (Lucius Annaeus Seneca; 4 BC-65 AD), Roman philosopher and moralist
Cum quod datur spectabis, et dantem adspice!
[While you look at what is given, look also at the giver.]
—Thyestes (CCCXVI), Seneca (Lucius Annaeus Seneca; 4 BC-65 AD), Roman philosopher and moralist
A new crate was waiting at the edge of the beach in the morning. The agents inspected the area around the box and saw no sign of human presence. Artie wondered to himself if Loveless had invented a way to move objects like that to a pinpointed spot.
The crate contained more food, including canned goods, and also some women’s clothing. Mina inspected one of the dresses with some disdain. “I don't know who picked this out. Probably some man!” It was a brown and green plaid trimmed in yellow. She sighed then. “But it looks like it will fit me. Be nice to have something different. Rose, look at this.”
As the two women sorted through the new supplies, George Greave turned to Artemus. “You went looking for the creature last night. Giles said you didn’t find anything.”
“That’s right,” Artie replied. “It vanished as soon as we entered the jungle.”
“Vanished?”
“Without a sound, or a sighting.”
“What does that mean, Artemus?”
Artie shook his head. “We’re not entirely sure and don’t want to jump to conclusions. Miguelito Loveless is a very clever and devious man, as you well know. The presence of an awful beast in the jungle would surely prevent us castaways from searching through the jungle.”
The lawyer cocked his head. “Search for what?”
Artie chuckled. “George, I don't know. It’s only experience in dealing with Loveless that makes me very curious about the whole business.”
“You can’t think this island doesn’t exist!”
“Oh, no, it exists all right. Jim and I were around when Loveless unveiled this particular invention. We ended up in an unknown town. I had to use one of my disguises to take the place of a gunfighter Loveless was bringing in with the hopes of gunning Jim down.”
Greave nodded. “I remember hearing something about that. Jim finally outdrew the real gunman, right?”
“Right. So it seems that these… these ‘painting sites’ that Loveless creates are real enough. As we’ve said previously, we have a general idea of how he creates them, but not the details. I think only Loveless knows, and possibly understands, that.”
“But the creature… is it real?”
“That’s a damn good question, George. The noise certainly is real. But why didn’t we see it, or at least signs of it? Animals leave tracks, bits of hair, feces. We haven’t finished searching the island, of course, but so far we’ve seen nothing like that.”
The lawyer sighed. “Well, I just know that that roar is enough to keep me out of the jungle!”
“It’s intimidating all right. We’re going out exploring again today. Who knows what we’ll find.”
Chester Berwick had been standing nearby, listening, and now he spoke up. “Mr. Gordon, are you saying the beast doesn’t exist?”
Artie shrugged. “I’m saying we don't know. That we did not find any sign of this creature… other than its roar. Reasons may exist for that. And as I said, Jim and I are going to explore this island thoroughly to try to solve the question.”
Giles Yost turned from helping Mina and Rose with the supplies. “I’d like to go with you, Mr. Gordon.”
Artie smiled. “Thank you, Giles, but I think it’s best if you remain here with the others. You are not armed, and if we encounter trouble…”
Disappointment appeared on the young man’s face, but he nodded, moving to take a bag of flour from Rose. Jim had been exploring the area in the opposite direction from the small beach labeled as the “powder room,” and now he walked toward them.
“Artie, we probably should get started while the sun is reasonably cool.”
Artemus glanced up at that golden globe, still rising in the east. “Right you are. Anything interesting off that way?” He jerked his head toward the beach Jim had just investigated.
“Just like George said, a narrow beach. Nothing of note.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, let’s head out. I don’t suppose the good doctor thought to provide us with canteens yet.” Artie looked toward Rose.
She shook her head. “No, your mental thoughts did not reach him.”
“Well, we did find a little water yesterday. Let’s go.”
They were well into the jungle when Artie glanced at his partner. “What did you find on that beach?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“To me, you are.”
Jim grinned briefly, then sobered. “A footprint.”
Artie paused and gazed at him. “There are human inhabitants on this island, after all.”
“Yep. But this was of a boot with a broken down heel.”
“Ah. I don’t believe any of the known population is wearing such a boot.”
“Exactly.”
They started moving again, pushing through the brush, today veering toward the north end of the island. “Do you suppose it was a person who brought the crate of supplies?”
“I don't know, Artie. I can’t figure that out. How would they get that near to us without waking someone? The boot print was heading away from the camp site.”
Artie was silent a moment. “I was theorizing to myself that Loveless has refined his invention to the point where he can… deposit… the crates at any given spot. You know, I have not asked anyone else whether they landed on the same beach we did.”
“Yeah. Might be a good idea to find out. I actually roamed further than that beach this morning. I circled around and came through the jungle to look at the area inland of the ‘powder room.’ I didn’t see any footprints, but I noticed some vines that had been disturbed.”
“As if someone came there to meet one of our number.”
“I can’t help but think someone is a spy, Artie. Mina Berwick commented about not having different clothes to wear, and new dresses arrived in the next delivery.”
“I noticed that.”
“It still doesn’t make any sense why Loveless would have brought all these people here, other than his spy… except…” Jim stopped again.
Artie snapped his fingers. “If he had sent just one person here along with us, we would have been very suspicious of that person. By electing to send five, seemingly with reason, no matter how petty…”
Jim frowned deeply. “What about the reverend? Did Loveless run out of people and choose at random? Or is he a real preacher even?”
“Rose told me she sometimes attends his church. Which would be a minor connection. Since she’s here only because Loveless wanted her house to trap us…”
“Or so she says.”
Artie sighed as once more they moved on. “Unless one makes a slip, or steps forward to confess, we’re just going to have to be careful what we say and do. Maybe we can eventually set up some kind of trap.”
A half hour of trudging through the brush and vines brought them to an abrupt clearing, in which a bulky rock edifice was centered. Both men stopped and stared at it. The rock was perhaps thirty feet high, and forty feet across. Without speaking they continued toward it, Artie going to the right and Jim to the left. Minutes later they met on the opposite side.
“Looks solid,” Jim commented.
Artie nodded. “I didn’t see anything upon initial inspection that resembled a door.”
Jim stepped back and craned his neck to look up. “Wonder how we could get to the top.”
“Sorry, forgot to bring a ladder.”
Jim chuckled softly as he moved closer again, putting his hands on the surface of the rock. “It’s pretty smooth. Be difficult finding foot- and handholds.”
“Look at it this way, James. If this is some kind of stronghold and Loveless is in there, either a door exists on the perimeter, or an easy way for him to get to the top.”
“And I don’t see either,” Jim sighed, now casting his gaze on the ground. “Nor signs that anyone has walked around here. Then again, knowing Loveless he would be particularly careful.”
“For now, we’ll just make a note of it. We have a lot of island to explore yet. Who knows? The crafty little doctor could have created this simply to throw us off.”
“Or… he made it knowing we would think that it was a trick to throw us off, when actually it’s his headquarters.”
Artie laughed out loud. “Right. Let’s go. I’d like to be back at camp for lunch.”
The island appeared to be in the shape of a narrow oval, and they made their way to the northern tip of the island. As they had discovered the previous day, the side opposite from where the beach camp was located consisted primarily of rugged cliffs, where the water slammed up against the rocks, creating spray and much more noise than on the other side.
On the return trek they walked the beaches, occasionally venturing a few yards into the jungle to look for signs of human disturbance, finding none. At one point, the agents cut inland further, until reaching the large rock once more. There they crouched in the dense undergrowth and watched the area for more than hour, before deciding it was an exercise in futility.
“If Loveless is using that for some kind of headquarters, and it’s hollow, he no doubt has a method to keep track of our movements. Could be he is aware we are in this spot right now,” Artie muttered.
Jim glanced at him as they rose and headed for the beaches again. “You seem to be giving Loveless godlike powers.”
Artie chuckled mirthlessly. “After what we’ve experienced in the past with him, why not?”
Jim sighed. “He is a genius, no doubting that at all. He seems capable of coming up with any type of gadget he wants or needs. I guess it’s no surprise he improves some and reuses them.”
Artie held a large hanging vine aside for his partner to pass by then slipped through himself. “Perhaps we should be grateful he didn’t decide to populate this island with poisonous snakes and insects, not to mention dangerous animals.”
“Or cannibals.”
“Cannibals!”
Jim shrugged, his greenish eyes glinting in the gloom of the growth surrounding them. “Well, that would make it interesting, wouldn’t it?”
“As if it’s not interesting enough. James, where do you come up with these ideas? Reading too much pulp fiction, no doubt.”
“Including the ones you bought.”
Both men laughed as they continued on. This sort of repartee was what helped make their tense, dangerous lives bearable, and cemented the friendship between them. They knew the desperate situation they were in, pretty much at the mercy of their worst enemy, with no idea with the insane little man had in mind for the future. If Loveless stopped sending supplies, could they survive? The foodstuffs available naturally were limited, just some fruit and the fish.
Artemus involuntarily thought of the infamous Donner party. No, he assured himself. It wouldn’t come to that. It couldn’t…. He shook himself mentally. No; nowhere close to such a situation. He and Jim were going to find a way out. They had defeated Miguelito Loveless numerous times. They would again.
