The Blue Disease
:
The Blue Germ
Next day the first news of the Sarakoff-Harden bacillus appeared in a
small paragraph in an evening paper, and immediately I saw it, I hurried
back to the house in Harley Street where Sarakoff was writing a record
of our researches.
"Listen to this," I cried, bursting excitedly into the room. I laid the
paper on the table and pointed to the column. "Curious disease among
trout in Wales," I read. "In the E
an reservoirs which have long been
famed for their magnificent trout, which have recently increased so
enormously in size and number that artificial stocking is entirely
unnecessary, a curious disease has made its appearance. Fish caught
there this morning are reported to have an unnatural bluish tint, and
their flesh, when cooked, retains this hue. It is thought that some
disease has broken out. Against this theory is the fact that no dead
fish have been observed. The Water Committee of the City Council of
Birmingham are investigating this matter."
Sarakoff pushed his chair back and twisted it round towards me. For some
moments we stared at each other with almost scared expressions. Then a
smile passed over the Russian's face.
"Ah, we had forgotten that. A bluish tint! Of course, it was to be
expected."
"Yes," I cried, "and what is more, the bluish tint will show itself in
every man, woman or child infected with the bacillus. Good heavens,
fancy not thinking of that ourselves!"
Sarakoff picked up the paper and read the paragraph for himself. Then he
laid it down. "It is strange that one so persistently neglects the
obvious in one's calculations. Of course there will be a bluish tint."
He leaned back and pulled at his beard. "I should think it will show
itself in the whites of the eyes first, just as jaundice shews itself
there. Leonora won't like that--it won't suit her colouring. You see
that these fish, when cooked, retained the bluish hue. That is very
interesting."
"It's very bad luck on the trout."
"Why?"
"After getting the bacillus into their system, they blunder on to a hook
and meet their death straight away."
"The bacillus is not proof against death by violence," replied Sarakoff
gravely. "That is a factor that will always remain constant. We are
agreed in looking on all disease as eventually due to poisons derived
from germ activity, but a bang on the head or asphyxiation or prussic
acid or a bullet in the heart are not due to a germ. Yes, these poor
trout little knew what a future they forfeited when they took the bait."
"The bacillus is in Birmingham by now," I said suddenly. I passed my
hand across my brow nervously, and glanced at the manuscript lying
before Sarakoff. "You had better keep those papers locked up. I spent an
awful day at the hospital. It dawned on me that the whole medical
profession will want to tear us in pieces before the year is out."
"In theory they ought not to."
"Who cares for theory, when it is a question of earning a living? As I
walked along the street to-day, I could have shrieked aloud when I saw
everybody hurrying about as if nothing were going to happen. This is
unnerving me. It is so tremendous."
Sarakoff picked up his pen, and traced out a pattern in the blotting-pad
before him.
"The Water Committee of Birmingham are investigating the matter," he
observed. "It will be amusing to hear their report. What will they think
when they make a bacteriological examination of the water in the
reservoir? It will stagger them."
The next morning I was down to breakfast before my friend and stood
before the fire eagerly scanning the papers. At first I could find
nothing that seemed to indicate any further effects of the bacillus. I
was in the act of buttering a piece of toast when my eye fell on one of
the newspapers lying beside me. A heading in small type caught my eye.
"The measles epidemic in Ludlow." I picked the paper up.
"The severe epidemic of measles which began last week and seemed likely
to spread through the entire town, has mysteriously abated. Not only are
no further cases reported, but several doctors report that those
already attacked have recovered in an incredibly short space of time.
Doubt has been expressed by the municipal authorities as to whether the
epidemic was really measles."
I adjusted my glasses to read the paragraph again. Then I got up and
went into my study. After rummaging in a drawer I pulled out and
unrolled a map of England. The course of the aqueduct from Elan to
Birmingham was marked by a thin red line. I followed it slowly with the
point of my finger and came on the town of Ludlow about half-way along.
I stared at it.
"Of course," I whispered at length, my finger still resting on the
position of the town. "All these towns on the way are supplied by the
aqueduct. I hadn't thought of that. The bacillus is in Ludlow."
For about a minute I did not move. Then I rolled up the map and went up
to Sarakoff's bedroom. I met the Russian on the landing on his way to
the bathroom.
"The bacillus is in Ludlow," I said in a curiously small voice. I stood
on the top stair, holding on to the bannister, my big glasses aslant on
my nose, and the map hanging down in my limp grasp.
I had to repeat the sentence before Sarakoff heard me.
"Where's Ludlow?"
I sank on my knees and unrolled the map on the floor and pointed
directly with my finger.
Sarakoff went down on all fours and looked at the spot keenly.
"Ah, on the line of the aqueduct! But how do you know it is there?"
"It has cut short an epidemic of measles. The doctors are puzzled."
Sarakoff nodded. He was looking at the names of the other towns that lay
on the course of the aqueduct.
"Cleobury-Mortimer," he spelt out. "No news from there?"
"None."
"And none from Birmingham yet?"
"None."
"We'll have news to-morrow." He raised himself on his knees. "Trout and
then measles!" he said, and laughed. "This is only the beginning. No
wonder the Ludlow doctors are puzzled."
The same evening there was further news of the progress of the bacillus.
From Cleobury-Mortimer, ten miles from Ludlow, and twenty from
Birmingham, it was reported that the measles epidemic there had been cut
short in the same mysterious manner as noticed in Ludlow. But next
morning a paragraph of considerable length appeared which I read out in
a trembling voice to Sarakoff.
"It was reported a short time ago that the trout in the Elan
reservoirs appeared to be suffering from a singular disease, the
effect of which was to tint their scales and flesh a delicate bluish
colour. The matter is being investigated. In the meanwhile it has been
noticed, both in Ludlow and Cleobury-Mortimer, and also in Knighton,
that the peculiar bluish tint has appeared amongst the inhabitants.
Our correspondent states that it is most marked in the conjunctivae, or
whites of the eyes. There must undoubtedly be some connection between
this phenomenon and the condition of the trout in the Elan reservoirs,
as all the above-mentioned towns lie close to, and receive water from,
the great aqueduct. The most remarkable thing, however, is that the
bluish discolouration does not seem to be accompanied by any symptoms
of illness in those whom it has affected. No sickness or fever has
been observed. It is perhaps nothing more than a curious coincidence
that the abrupt cessation of the measles epidemic in Ludlow and
Cleobury-Mortimer, reported in yesterday's issue, should have occurred
simultaneously with the appearance of bluish discolouration among the
inhabitants."
On the same evening, I was returning from the hospital and saw the
following words on a poster:--
"Blue Disease in Birmingham."
I bought a paper and scanned the columns rapidly. In the stop-press news
I read:--
"The Blue Disease has appeared in Birmingham. Cases are reported all
over the city. The Public Health Department are considering what
measures should be adopted. The disease seems to be unaccompanied by any
dangerous symptoms."
I stood stock-still in the middle of the pavement. A steady stream of
people hurrying from business thronged past me. A newspaper boy was
shouting something down the street, and as he drew nearer, I heard his
hoarse voice bawling out:--
"Blue Disease in Birmingham."
He passed close to me, still bawling, and his voice died away in the
distance. Men jostled me and glanced at me angrily.... But I was lost in
a dream. The paper dropped from my fingers. In my mind's eye I saw the
Sarakoff-Harden bacillus in Birmingham, teeming in every water-pipe in
countless billions, swarming in the carafes on dining-room tables, and
in every ewer and finger-basin, infecting everything it came in contact
with. And the vision of Birmingham and the whole stretch of country up
to the Elan watershed passed before me, stained with a vivid blue.