The Voice

: A Voyage To Arcturus

It was by this time past three o'clock. Feeling hungry, for they had

eaten nothing since early morning, Maskull went downstairs to forage,

but without much hope of finding anything in the shape of food. In a

safe in the kitchen he discovered a bag of mouldy oatmeal, which was

untouchable, a quantity of quite good tea in an airtight caddy, and an

unopened can of ox tongue. Best of all, in the dining-room cupboard he

cam across an uncorked bottle of first-class Scotch whisky. He at once

made preparations for a scratch meal.



A pump in the yard ran clear after a good deal of hard working at it,

and he washed out and filled the antique kettle. For firewood, one of

the kitchen chairs was broken up with a chopper. The light, dusty wood

made a good blaze in the grate, the kettle was boiled, and cups were

procured and washed. Ten minutes later the friends were dining in the

library.



Nightspore ate and drank little, but Maskull sat down with good

appetite. There being no milk, whisky took the place of it; the nearly

black tea was mixed with an equal quantity of the spirit. Of this

concoction Maskull drank cup after cup, and long after the tongue had

disappeared he was still imbibing.



Nightspore looked at him queerly. "Do you intend to finish the bottle

before Krag comes?"



"Krag won't want any, and one must do something. I feel restless."



"Let us take a look at the country."



The cup, which was on its way to Maskull's lips, remained poised in the

air. "Have you anything in view, Nightspore?"



"Let us walk out to the Gap of Sorgie."



"What's that?"



"A showplace," answered Nightspore, biting his lip.



Maskull finished off the cup, and rose to his feet. "Walking is better

than soaking at any time, and especially on a day like this.... How far

is it?"



"Three or four miles each way."



"You probably mean something," said Maskull, "for I'm beginning to

regard you as a second Krag. But if so, so much the better. I am growing

nervous, and need incidents."



They left the house by the door, which they left ajar, and immediately

found themselves again on the moorland road that had brought them from

Haillar. This time they continued along it, past the tower.



Maskull, as they went by, regarded the erection with puzzled interest.

"What is that tower, Nightspore?"



"We sail from the platform on the top."



"Tonight?"--throwing him a quick look.



"Yes."



Maskull smiled, but his eyes were grave. "Then we are looking at the

gateway of Arcturus, and Krag is now travelling north to unlock it."



"You no longer think it impossible, I fancy," mumbled Nightspore.



After a mile or two, the road parted from the sea coast and swerved

sharply inland, across the hills. With Nightspore as guide, they left it

and took to the grass. A faint sheep path marked the way along the cliff

edge for some distance, but at the end of another mile it vanished. The

two men then had some rough walking up and down hillsides and across

deep gullies. The sun disappeared behind the hills, and twilight

imperceptibly came on. They soon reached a spot where further progress

appeared impossible. The buttress of a mountain descended at a steep

angle to the very edge of the cliff, forming an impassable slope of

slippery grass. Maskull halted, stroked his beard, and wondered what the

next step was to be.



"There's a little scrambling here," said Nightspore. "We are both used

to climbing, and there is not much in it."



He indicated a narrow ledge, winding along the face of the precipice a

few yards beneath where they were standing. It averaged from fifteen

to thirty inches in width. Without waiting for Maskull's consent to the

undertaking, he instantly swung himself down and started walking along

this ledge at a rapid pace. Maskull, seeing that there was no help for

it, followed him. The shelf did not extend for above a quarter of a

mile, but its passage was somewhat unnerving; there was a sheer drop

to the sea, four hundred feet below. In a few places they had to sidle

along without placing one foot before another. The sound of the breakers

came up to them in a low, threatening roar.



Upon rounding a corner, the ledge broadened out into a fair-sized

platform of rock and came to a sudden end. A narrow inlet of the sea

separated them from the continuation of the cliffs beyond.



"As we can't get any further," said Maskull, "I presume this is your Gap

of Sorgie?"



"Yes," answered his friend, first dropping on his knees and then lying

at full length, face downward. He drew his head and shoulders over the

edge and began to stare straight down at the water.



"What is there interesting down there, Nightspore?"



Receiving no reply, however, he followed his friend's example, and the

next minute was looking for himself. Nothing was to be seen; the gloom

had deepened, and the sea was nearly invisible. But, while he was

ineffectually gazing, he heard what sounded like the beating of a

drum on the narrow strip of shore below. It was very faint, but quite

distinct. The beats were in four-four time, with the third beat slightly

accented. He now continued to hear the noise all the time he was lying

there. The beats were in no way drowned by the far louder sound of the

surf, but seemed somehow to belong to a different world....



When they were on their feet again, he questioned Nightspore. "We came

here solely to hear that?"



Nightspore cast one of his odd looks at him. "It's called locally 'The

Drum Taps of Sorgie.' You will not hear that name again, but perhaps you

will hear the sound again."



"And if I do, what will it imply?" demanded Maskull in amazement.



"It bears its own message. Only try always to hear it more and more

distinctly.... Now it's growing dark, and we must get back."



Maskull pulled out his watch automatically, and looked at the time. It

was past six.... But he was thinking of Nightspore's words, and not of

the time.



Night had already fallen by the time they regained the tower. The black

sky was glorious with liquid stars. Arcturus was a little way above the

sea, directly opposite them, in the east. As they were passing the base

of the tower, Maskull observed with a sudden shock that the gate was

open. He caught hold of Nightspore's arm violently. "Look! Krag is

back."



"Yes, we must make haste to the house."



"And why not the tower? He's probably in there, since the gate is open.

I'm going up to look."



Nightspore grunted, but made no opposition.



All was pitch-black inside the gate. Maskull struck a match, and the

flickering light disclosed the lower end of a circular flight of stone

steps. "Are you coming up?" he asked.



"No, I'll wait here."



Maskull immediately began the ascent. Hardly had he mounted half a dozen

steps, however, before he was compelled to pause, to gain breath.

He seemed to be carrying upstairs not one Maskull, but three. As he

proceeded, the sensation of crushing weight, so far from diminishing,

grew worse and worse. It was nearly physically impossible to go on; his

lungs could not take in enough oxygen, while his heart thumped like a

ship's engine. Sweat coursed down his face. At the twentieth step he

completed the first revolution of the tower and came face to face with

the first window, which was set in a high embrasure.



Realising that he could go no higher, he struck another match, and

climbed into the embrasure, in order that he might at all events see

something from the tower. The flame died, and he stared through the

window at the stars. Then, to his astonishment, he discovered that it

was not a window at all but a lens.... The sky was not a wide expanse of

space containing a multitude of stars, but a blurred darkness, focused

only in one part, where two very bright stars, like small moons in size,

appeared in close conjunction; and near them a more minute planetary

object, as brilliant as Venus and with an observable disk. One of the

suns shone with a glaring white light; the other was a weird and awful

blue. Their light, though almost solar in intensity, did not illuminate

the interior of the tower.



Maskull knew at once that the system of spheres at which he was gazing

was what is known to astronomy as the star Arcturus.... He had seen the

sight before, through Krag's glass, but then the scale had been smaller,

the colors of the twin suns had not appeared in their naked reality....

These colors seemed to him most marvellous, as if, in seeing them

through earth eyes, he was not seeing them correctly.... But it was

at Tormance that he stared the longest and the most earnestly. On that

mysterious and terrible earth, countless millions of miles distant, it

had been promised him that he would set foot, even though he might leave

his bones there. The strange creatures that he was to behold and touch

were already living, at this very moment.



A low, sighing whisper sounded in his ear, from not more than a yard

away. "Don't you understand, Maskull, that you are only an instrument,

to be used and then broken? Nightspore is asleep now, but when he wakes

you must die. You will go, but he will return."



Maskull hastily struck another match, with trembling fingers. No one was

in sight, and all was quiet as the tomb.



The voice did not sound again. After waiting a few minutes, he

redescended to the foot of the tower. On gaining the open air, his

sensation of weight was instantly removed, but he continued panting and

palpitating, like a man who has lifted a far too heavy load.



Nightspore's dark form came forward. "Was Krag there?"



"If he was. I didn't see him. But I heard someone speak."



"Was it Krag?"



"It was not Krag--but a voice warned me against you."



"Yes, you will hear these voices too," said Nightspore enigmatically.