They Found Atlantis lw-1 Read online

  'You are incorrigible Prince.' Count Axel smiled as he pushed his goblet across the table. 'Almost you make me envious of your youth.'

  'Ah my poor Count—how I understand that for you.'

  'Almost, I said,' submitted Axel, 'but not quite. With age comes wisdom and experience and persons of my temperament are apt to value that—more than they should perhaps —but we are just made that way.'

  The band blared out the Portuguese National Anthem and then, in deference to the British visitors who are the mainstay of all entertainment enterprises on the island, God Save the King. The two girls, Nicky, and the McKay joined the others on the terrace. Ten minutes later the attendants began to put out the lights so Camilla's party decided to return to the Hotel.

  Sally insisted on going back in a Bullo-carro, one of those strange square curtained contraptions like a four-poster bed on sleigh runners—a form of conveyance peculiar to the island of Madeira. Camilla told her that she was certain to pick up fleas from the cushioned seats, but the McKay volunteered to accompany her so they set off in their musty chariot while Camilla and the others, disdaining to walk the half mile through the scented night, were whirled away in a big car.

  Beside the Bullo-carro walked its tattered driver urging on his lazy bullocks with a constant stream of profane Portuguese and frequent prods from a long bamboo cane. Occasionally he ran forward and threw a sausage-like sack filled with mutton fat beneath the runners to grease them and facilitate the progress of the vehicle as it slithered and jolted over the thousands of closely packed little round pebbles which formed the surface of the road.

  'What do you think our chances are of finding this lost city?' Sally asked idly.

  'About as good as of the King sending a boy scout to tell me that he is recalling me from my retirement to make me an Admiral of the Fleet,' grunted the McKay. 'The Doctor's a nice little man but he's nuts, m'dear—nuts 1'

  'Count Axel doesn't seem to think so.'

  'No, the Count's got all sorts of bees in his bonnet. I like

  him but he's gone cranky from too much learning. He treated me to a long dissertation on ancient languages this evening and made quite a good case of it too, but hieroglyphics are like figures in a balance sheet, you can make 'em prove anything provided you juggle with them cleverly enough.'

  'What he told us about the Flood legends after lunch fitted in with the Doctors theory perfectly.'

  'Fairy tales m'dear—all of 'em. As well believe in the Gorgon's head or the one-eyed Cyclops. If there were any truth in these old wives' tales the scientists would have got on to it long ago.'

  Sally was silent for a moment. If the McKay was so sceptical about the motive for the expedition why was he so keen to come on it? Perhaps—Sally's mouth curved into a pleased smile in the darkness—because he welcomed the chance of spending several weeks in the same party as herself. Till now she had refrained from examining her feelings about him and her thoughts were vacillating like the needle of a compass on a merry-go-round. True he was no handsome young gallant but he had the high spirits of youth coupled with the poise of a man of the world—moreover he never even glanced at Camilla. Sally was jealous, bitterly jealous that an unjust God had created her so like Camilla in colouring, face, and form yet denied her just that millimetre of difference in features which made her only good looking where Camilla merely had to look at a man to turn his head. She never quite succeeded in cheating herself into the belief that Camilla's adorers were only after her money, but now, here was a very personable man who paid no attention whatever to Camilla—instead he quite unostentatiously, but persistently, sought her own company. Sally gave a little secret chuckle as she felt him put out a hand gropingly in search of hers.

  Even if he was right in his belief that they were setting out on a fool's errand she felt that the party would be fun, if he was going solely to be with her and, wishing to make him admit that she sought to give him a lead by labouring its possibilities.

  'I don't agree with you,' she said softly as he took her hand. 'For hundreds of years all the learned people scoffed at the local folk tale that there were two buried cities at the foot of Mount Vesuvius. They changed their tune though when a farmer stink a well one day and went slap through the roof of a building twenty feet underground which led to the discovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Look at the ridicule all the wiseacres used to pour on that poor old Greek Herodotus too. They laughed at his account of his travels in ancient Egypt and Asia Minor for over two thousand years and dubbed them sheer romance, but we know now that his descriptions of the countries that he visited were true, and marvellously accurate. Why shouldn't Plato's account of Atlantis be the same?'

  "Because he never visited it m'dear. He got the story from some old boy who got it from someone else and even then it was a nine thousand year old chestnut. If Camilla expects to find any lost cities under the ocean she's just pouring her money down the drain I tell you.'

  "But-'

  'Now stop it,' he interrupted quickly. 'I've had my fill of erudition for one evening. You just be a good little girl and don't bother your head with such nonsense. We're all going to have a darn good trip at Camilla's expense, and she'll get plenty of fun herself exercising her "circus".'

  As he squeezed her hand Sally's heart gave a thump. She waited a little holding her breath and then asked with deliberate casualness, 'Well if that's all there's going to be to it why are you so keen to come?'

  'That's easy, he replied without hesitation. 'I'm poor, I love the sea, and it amuses me to watch the "circus".' Then, like a bolt from the blue he added meditatively: 'I don't think I've ever seen a better looking woman than Camilla.'

  Sally pulled her hand away as if she had been stung. 'I thought you didn't like her!' she snapped angrily.

  'Yo ho!' he laughed. 'Sits the wind in that quarter. You're jealous m'dear. Interested in one of the "circus" yourself, eh? But believe me jealousy's a great mistake—even in a pretty woman.'

  There was a sudden silence in the Bullo-carro. Sally thanked God for the friendly darkness. Her cheeks were scarlet and her face burning. Only the creaking of the springless box broke the uncomfortable silence. The stuffy air behind the thick curtains was charged with emotions as heavily as is a battery with electricity.

  It even began to penetrate the McKay's weather-beaten skin that Sally might resent his last speech and he searched clumsily in his mind for words with which to comfort her.

  'I'm afraid that wasn't very polite,' he said nervously, 'I'm sorry m'dear. You know I'm looking forward to seeing a lot of you on board. I always thought you had a rotten time with Camilla. It can't be any fun seeing her get away with everything. Now be sensible and the old man will do his best to console you-'

  'And himself I suppose,' she flashed, then her eyes filled with angry tears as she hurried on, 'But don't worry—the trip isn't coming off. Camilla's not all that set on going to sea for weeks on end if there's no real excitement of finding lost cities to be had. We're due in Scotland at the end of the month and she was looking forward to that.'

  'Hi! Half a moment, you're not thinking of trying to persuade her to back out, are you?' the McKay exclaimed in some alarm.

  'I am.'

  'That would be awfully hard lines on the little doctor.'

  'Oh, you needn't concern yourself about him,' said Sally bitterly. 'Nothing's signed yet but I don't doubt she'll compensate him. She has so much money that she wouldn't miss it if she financed him to set off on his own. Anyhow I might just as well save her from being sponged on by people like Captain McKay.'

  'Tut-tut,' he murmured. 'Naughty, naughty temper. However, you were saying only this morning that Camilla never consulted you about anything and she's keen on this trip, stupid as its object may be, so the chances are all against your being able to get her to alter her decision now.'

  'You think so? Well you've provided me with ample reasons for its cancellation and taken special care to point out how dull it's going to be for m
e. I haven't lived with Camilla all this time without learning how to handle her, so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that she'll cut it out.'

  'Thanks,' replied McKay stiffly, 'I'll believe that when I hear it from Camilla—not before.'

  'All right—wait and see!'

  At that moment the Bullo-carro halted before the door of the hotel. Sally jumped out and, to avoid displaying her flaming cheeks and angry eyes, she flung a curt 'Good night' over her shoulder then, while McKay was still paying off the man, dashed straight up to her room.

  As he walked thoughtfully upstairs behind her the McKay was a little worried by this apparently senseless quarrel. Certainly he admired Camilla. She was good to look at like any other well executed work of art and, having a simple old-fashioned belief in God, he had always considered really beautiful women to be the high watermark of the Great Master's efforts in the creative field. She was probably quite a nice girl too, he felt, if one happened to care for her type of outlook and conversation but personally she bored him stiff. Whereas he liked Sally. There was no nonsense about her in the ordinary way and she gave a fellow a comfortable companionable sort of feeling which it was nice to have. He had been looking forward to this cruise with her even more than he had realised up to that moment and he knew that he was going to be distinctly disappointed if she blew it up.

  By the time he climbed into bed he had assured himself that she couldn't be such a young ass as seriously to resent his chipping and that anyhow she hadn't sufficient influence with Camilla to outweigh the interest of all the others who were so obviously keen to go. In the morning therefore he was somewhat disconcerted to receive, on his breakfast tray, a neatly typed note—which read:

  'Camilla, Duchess da Solento-Ragina presents her compliments to Captain N. A. McKay, R.N., and regrets that, owing to unforeseen circumstances, she has been compelled to cancel the party which she had arranged to cruise in search of the lost continent of Atlantis on Doktor Herman Tisch's yacht.'

  The Island of the Blessed

  Rene P. Slinger was not a handsome man. His bald polished skull and beaky nose were vaguely reminiscent cf a vulture. But he had an easy mariner and a shrewd, witty way of summing up events and people that made him an acceptable companion in the most diverse company. Moreover, his tact was only equalled by his efficiency and he had a genuine flair for getting things done with rapidity and ease.

  It was this latter quality in him which had appealed to Camilla when, three months before, her previous man of business had gone down with a duodenal ulcer. Slinger had been an international lawyer practising in quite a small way in Paris. The slump had robbed him of his only two really important clients and the fall in the dollar had driven two thirds of the expatriate Americans, who gave him their casual business, back to their own country. To save himself from bankruptcy he had been angling for some share of the work which Camilla had to give, when her manager was taken ill, and had taken over her arrangements, to begin with, apparently in a purely friendly way. She had been surprised, not knowing the state of his finances, but pleased when he had proposed himself as a permanency. A cable to her lawyers in the States had revealed nothing questionable in his past history and so she had taken him on.

  His task of dealing with her accounts and charities, arranging her accommodation as she moved from place to place and organising her parties might appear an easy one in view of the almost limitless funds behind hiin but, as Camilla had a habit of altering her mind every second moment, the job required real ability and the utmost diplomacy. However, Rene P. Slinger was not the man to be content with such a dependent position despite the very handsome salary which she paid him, and would never have considered it, except as a makeshift during temporary difficulties, had not a certain very powerful person in New York urged him to take on the job with a view to arranging a highly secret enterprise which would prove far more remunerative.

  Rene was completely unscrupulous and saw in this person's suggestion a reasonably safe way to permanent affluence. He had agreed at once, seized upon Doctor Tisch's misfortune as offering the very thing he needed to further his plan and, with his usual skilful handling of people and situations juggled the Doctor into acquiescence and Camilla into financing the expedition to rediscover Atlantis without appearing to be in any way responsible for her decision himself.

  Now, the whole thing had blown up on him at the last moment and it was a very angry Rene P. Slinger who lured the miserable little Doctor out into a secluded portion of the hotel garden immediately after breakfast.

  His thin beaky nose was rather red but that was indigestion. He did not display any signs of the intense irritation and annoyance that he felt but inside he was cold, hard, venomous and determined, as he faced the fat bristly-haired German scientist beneath a great bougainvillea bush covered with purple blossoms.

  'See here,' he opened up, 'that darned British ex-Naval Captain doesn't believe in your lost Continent. He told his tale to Sally last night and ..he got at the Duchess after, so the whole party has been called off. Maybe the fool's right but whether he is or not I don't give a dime. What matters is that this show's got to go on.'

  The Doctor's sandy eyebrows shot up into two arches, his fat red face showed surprise and dismay. 'But I thought it was all sealed,' he protested. '1 brought my ship to Madeira —I promised to close my eyes to what may happen when the Duchess is on board. ... I need the wages for my crew. I shall be sent to prison if I cannot pay.'

  'You've said it,' agreed Slinger laconically, suppressing for his own purposes the handsome offer of financial compensation which Camilla had charged him to make the little man when he broke the news.

  'But this is terrible!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'And what case have I, for nothing is signed yet.'

  'No, nothing's signed yet,' Slinger repeated with an unhelpful stare.

  'The Captain is a liar and a fool,' burst out the Doctor suddenly. 'The continent is there—sunk beneath the ocean— also the gold. I will talk with the Duchess and give her proof.'

  'Can you?' asked Slinger with apparent scepticism.

  'Proof and again proof! I can convince anyone who will listen.'

  'Well you'll be in a fine mess if you fail. But you know I'm out to help you and I've been counting on it that you'd be able to put up a show so I've fixed a meeting for eleven-thirty in Camilla's private sitting-room upstairs. Are you prepared to come and say your piece?'

  'Ja! I will come and she will be convinced.'

  'That's the idea. Don't make it too long though or too mighty scientific. Just think up a few really telling facts.'

  'Leave it to me. I haf argued with damn fools before.'

  Slinger at last permitted himself the shadow of a smile. He felt that he had manoeuvred the little Doctor into fighting trim and could trust him to do his utmost to persuade Camilla. He nodded encouragement.

  'That's the stuff—but remember if you fail to put it over the expedition is definitely off.'

  'That must not be. To save my exploration I have already agreed to things which my conscience hates.'

  'Sure,' Slinger agreed and they turned to stroll back to the hotel.

  In the lounge at that moment four disappointed men were holding an unofficial conference. The McKay and Camilla's 'circus'. He found that all three of them had received similar notes to his own cancelling their invitation for the trip and, although Count Axel was the only one among them who understood the scientific possibilities of the venture and had been looking forward to it on that account, Nicky Costello, and Prince Vladimir were equally dismayed that the expedition appeared to have fallen through.

  The two latter were now saying that, after all, the Doctor was a very clever man and, wild as theories might be, it was a darned shame not to give him a chance to try them out since Camilla could well afford it.

  The McKay was generally regarded as an interfering fool, as it was in the nature of the man to confess that his scepticism the night before had been mainly responsib
le for the party falling through. He still stoutly maintained his complete disbelief in the whole fantastic story, but readily agreed to adopt a benevolent neutrality if the matter was reopened.

  When they were summoned to the presence an hour later therefore, the Doctor had everybody's sympathy and backing. Even Sally's interest had been re-awakened, for she had just received an unexpected parcel from the town. It contained a table cloth and a dozen mats embroidered in the local Madeira work. A strange gift, to be sure, for a girl who always lived in hotels, but enclosed was a scribbled note from the McKay, 'Souvenir of some very pleasant hours you were kind enough to devote to an old man in Madeira.'

  It must have cost him a lot she knew, probably more than he could really afford, and on thinking it over she saw that his choice of a gift was a subtle suggestion that she would soon be married, a pretty compliment. He evidently felt very contrite about the night before to go to such lengths to make his peace.

  The Doctor gave a jerky little bow and addressed Camilla with a certain awkward dignity.

  'Gncidige Herzogin. It was with great distress that I heard the reversal of your decision yesterday.'

  Camilla smiled her golden smile. 'I'm sure I owe you an apology, Doctor, but things were fixed up in such a hurry. When it was pointed out to me last night that, after cancelling lots of engagements to which I've been looking forward, maybe we'd be weeks at sea without finding anything after all, I felt I'd rather not go, but I'm willing to hear anything you have to say.'

  'Thank you. I hope to convince you that my proposition is no dream but a practical exploration which will bring results.' As the Doctor plumped himself down in an armchair the others settled themselves, then he began :

  'The principal historical evidence for the one time existence of Atlantis is based on an account by Plato. He lived in Greece during the fourth century B.C. and received his

  particulars via his compatriot Solon who had travelled to Egypt half a century earlier.