THE LOST CONTINENT(消失的大陆)

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THE LOST CONTINENT

THE LOST

CONTINENT

Edgar Rice Burroughs

THE LOST CONTINENT

Since earliest childhood I have been strangely fascinated by the

mystery surrounding the history of the last days of twentieth century

Europe. My interest is keenest, perhaps, not so much in relation to

known facts as to speculation upon the unknowable of the two centuries

that have rolled by since human intercourse between the Western and

Eastern Hemispheres ceased--the mystery of Europe's state following the

termination of the Great War--provided, of course, that the war had been

terminated.

From out of the meagerness of our censored histories we learned that

for fifteen years after the cessation of diplomatic relations between the

United States of North America and the belligerent nations of the Old

World, news of more or less doubtful authenticity filtered, from time to

time, into the Western Hemisphere from the Eastern.

Then came the fruition of that historic propaganda which is best

described by its own slogan: "The East for the East-- the West for the

West," and all further intercourse was stopped by statute.

Even prior to this, transoceanic commerce had practically ceased,

owing to the perils and hazards of the mine-strewn waters of both the

Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Just when submarine activities ended we do

not know but the last vessel of this type sighted by a Pan-American

merchantman was the huge Q 138, which discharged twenty-nine

torpedoes at a Brazilian tank steamer off the Bermudas in the fall of 1972.

A heavy sea and the excellent seamanship of the master of the Brazilian

permitted the Pan-American to escape and report this last of a long series

of outrages upon our commerce. God alone knows how many hundreds

of our ancient ships fell prey to the roving steel sharks of blood-frenzied

Europe. Countless were the vessels and men that passed over our eastern

and western horizons never to return; but whether they met their fates

before the belching tubes of submarines or among the aimlessly drifting

mine fields, no man lived to tell.

And then came the great Pan-American Federation which linked the

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Western Hemisphere from pole to pole under a single flag, which joined

the navies of the New World into the mightiest fighting force that ever

sailed the seven seas-- the greatest argument for peace the world had ever

known.

Since that day peace had reigned from the western shores of the

Azores to the western shores of the Hawaiian Islands, nor has any man of

either hemisphere dared cross 30dW. or 175dW. From 30d to 175d is

ours--from 30d to 175d is peace, prosperity and happiness.

Beyond was the great unknown. Even the geographies of my

boyhood showed nothing beyond. We were taught of nothing beyond.

Speculation was discouraged. For two hundred years the Eastern

Hemisphere had been wiped from the maps and histories of Pan-America.

Its mention in fiction, even, was forbidden.

Our ships of peace patrol thirty and one hundred seventy- five. What

ships from beyond they have warned only the secret archives of

government show; but, a naval officer myself, I have gathered from the

traditions of the service that it has been fully two hundred years since

smoke or sail has been sighted east of 30d or west of 175d. The fate of

the relinquished provinces which lay beyond the dead lines we could only

speculate upon. That they were taken by the military power, which rose

so suddenly in China after the fall of the republic, and which wrested

Manchuria and Korea from Russia and Japan, and also absorbed the

Philippines, is quite within the range of possibility.

It was the commander of a Chinese man-of-war who received a copy

of the edict of 1972 from the hand of my illustrious ancestor, Admiral

Turck, on one hundred seventy-five, two hundred and six years ago, and

from the yellowed pages of the admiral's diary I learned that the fate of the

Philippines was even then presaged by these Chinese naval officers.

Yes, for over two hundred years no man crossed 30d to 175d and lived

to tell his story--not until chance drew me across and back again, and

public opinion, revolting at last against the drastic regulations of our long-

dead forbears, demanded that my story be given to the world, and that the

narrow interdict which commanded peace, prosperity, and happiness to

halt at 30d and 175d be removed forever.

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I am glad that it was given to me to be an instrument in the hands of

Providence for the uplifting of benighted Europe, and the amelioration of

the suffering, degradation, and abysmal ignorance in which I found her.

I shall not live to see the complete regeneration of the savage hordes of

the Eastern Hemisphere--that is a work which will require many

generations, perhaps ages, so complete has been their reversion to

savagery; but I know that the work has been started, and I am proud of the

share in it which my generous countrymen have placed in my hands.

The government already possesses a complete official report of my

adventures beyond thirty. In the narrative I purpose telling my story in a

less formal, and I hope, a more entertaining, style; though, being only a

naval officer and without claim to the slightest literary ability, I shall most

certainly fall far short of the possibilities which are inherent in my subject.

That I have passed through the most wondrous adventures that have

befallen a civilized man during the past two centuries encourages me in

the belief that, however ill the telling, the facts themselves will command

your interest to the final page.

Beyond thirty! Romance, adventure, strange peoples, fearsome

beasts--all the excitement and scurry of the lives of the twentieth century

ancients that have been denied us in these dull days of peace and prosaic

prosperity--all, all lay beyond thirty, the invisible barrier between the

stupid, commercial present and the carefree, barbarous past.

What boy has not sighed for the good old days of wars, revolutions,

and riots; how I used to pore over the chronicles of those old days, those

dear old days, when workmen went armed to their labors; when they fell

upon one another with gun and bomb and dagger, and the streets ran red

with blood! Ah, but those were the times when life was worth the living;

when a man who went out by night knew not at which dark corner a

"footpad" might leap upon and slay him; when wild beasts roamed the

forest and the jungles, and there were savage men, and countries yet

unexplored.

Now, in all the Western Hemisphere dwells no man who may not find

a school house within walking distance of his home, or at least within

flying distance.

THE LOST CONTINENT

The wildest beast that roams our waste places lairs in the frozen north

or the frozen south within a government reserve, where the curious may

view him and feed him bread crusts from the hand with perfect impunity.

But beyond thirty! And I have gone there, and come back; and now

you may go there, for no longer is it high treason, punishable by disgrace

or death, to cross 30d or 175d.

My name is Jefferson Turck. I am a lieutenant in the navy-- in the

great Pan-American navy, the only navy which now exists in all the world.

I was born in Arizona, in the United States of North America, in the

year of our Lord 2116. Therefore, I am twenty-one years old.

In early boyhood I tired of the teeming cities and overcrowded rural

districts of Arizona. Every generation of Turcks for over two centuries

has been represented in the navy. The navy called to me, as did the free,

wide, unpeopled spaces of the mighty oceans. And so I joined the navy,

coming up from the ranks, as we all must, learning our craft as we advance.

My promotion was rapid, for my family seems to inherit naval lore. We

are born officers, and I reserve to myself no special credit for an early

advancement in the service.

At twenty I found myself a lieutenant in command of the aero-

submarine Coldwater, of the SS-96 class. The Coldwater was one of the

first of the air and underwater craft which have been so greatly improved

since its launching, and was possessed of innumerable weaknesses which,

fortunately, have been eliminated in more recent vessels of similar type.

Even when I took command, she was fit only for the junk pile; but the

world-old parsimony of government retained her in active service, and

sent two hundred men to sea in her, with myself, a mere boy, in command

of her, to patrol thirty from Iceland to the Azores.

Much of my service had been spent aboard the great merchantmen-of-

war. These are the utility naval vessels that have transformed the navies

of old, which burdened the peoples with taxes for their support, into the

present day fleets of self-supporting ships that find ample time for target

practice and gun drill while they bear freight and the mails from the

continents to the far-scattered island of Pan-America.

This change in service was most welcome to me, especially as it

THE LOST CONTINENT

brought with it coveted responsibilities of sole command, and I was prone

to overlook the deficiencies of the Coldwater in the natural pride I felt in

my first ship.

The Coldwater was fully equipped for two months' patrolling-- the

ordinary length of assignment to this service--and a month had already

passed, its monotony entirely unrelieved by sight of another craft, when

the first of our misfortunes befell.

We had been riding out a storm at an altitude of about three thousand

feet. All night we had hovered above the tossing billows of the

moonlight clouds. The detonation of the thunder and the glare of

lightning through an occasional rift in the vaporous wall proclaimed the

continued fury of the tempest upon the surface of the sea; but we, far

above it all, rode in comparative ease upon the upper gale. With the

coming of dawn the clouds beneath us became a glorious sea of gold and

silver, soft and beautiful; but they could not deceive us as to the blackness

and the terrors of the storm-lashed ocean which they hid.

I was at breakfast when my chief engineer entered and saluted. His

face was grave, and I thought he was even a trifle paler than usual.

"Well?" I asked.

He drew the back of his forefinger nervously across his brow in a

gesture that was habitual with him in moments of mental stress.

"The gravitation-screen generators, sir," he said. "Number one went

to the bad about an hour and a half ago. We have been working upon it

steadily since; but I have to report, sir, that it is beyond repair."

"Number two will keep us supplied," I answered. "In the meantime

we will send a wireless for relief."

"But that is the trouble, sir," he went on. "Number two has stopped.

I knew it would come, sir. I made a report on these generators three

years ago. I advised then that they both be scrapped. Their principle is

entirely wrong. They're done for." And, with a grim smile, "I shall at

least have the satisfaction of knowing my report was accurate."

"Have we sufficient reserve screen to permit us to make land, or, at

least, meet our relief halfway?" I asked.

"No, sir," he replied gravely; "we are sinking now."

THE LOST CONTINENT

"Have you anything further to report?" I asked.

"No, sir," he said.

"Very good," I replied; and, as I dismissed him, I rang for my wireless

operator. When he appeared, I gave him a message to the secretary of the

navy, to whom all vessels in service on thirty and one hundred seventy-

five report direct. I explained our predicament, and stated that with what

screening force remained I should continue in the air, making as rapid

headway toward St. Johns as possible, and that when we were forced to

take to the water I should continue in the same direction.

The accident occurred directly over 30d and about 52d N. The surface

wind was blowing a tempest from the west. To attempt to ride out such a

storm upon the surface seemed suicidal, for the Coldwater was not

designed for surface navigation except under fair weather conditions.

Submerged, or in the air, she was tractable enough in any sort of weather

when under control; but without her screen generators she was almost

helpless, since she could not fly, and, if submerged, could not rise to the

surface.

All these defects have been remedied in later models; but the

knowledge did not help us any that day aboard the slowly settling

Coldwater, with an angry sea roaring beneath, a tempest raging out of the

west, and 30d only a few knots astern.

To cross thirty or one hundred seventy-five has been, as you know, the

direst calamity that could befall a naval commander. Court-martial and

degradation follow swiftly, unless as is often the case, the unfortunate man

takes his own life before this unjust and heartless regulation can hold him

up to public scorn.

There has been in the past no excuse, no circumstance, that could

palliate the offense.

"He was in command, and he took his ship across thirty!" That was

sufficient. It might not have been in any way his fault, as, in the case of

the Coldwater, it could not possibly have been justly charged to my

account that the gravitation-screen generators were worthless; but well I

knew that should chance have it that we were blown across thirty today--

as we might easily be before the terrific west wind that we could hear

THE LOST CONTINENT

howling below us, the responsibility would fall upon my shoulders.

In a way, the regulation was a good one, for it certainly accomplished

that for which it was intended. We all fought shy of 30d on the east and

175d on the west, and, though we had to skirt them pretty close, nothing

but an act of God ever drew one of us across. You all are familiar with

the naval tradition that a good officer could sense proximity to either line,

and for my part, I am firmly convinced of the truth of this as I am that the

compass finds the north without recourse to tedious processes of

reasoning.

Old Admiral Sanchez was wont to maintain that he could smell thirty,

and the men of the first ship in which I sailed claimed that Coburn, the

navigating officer, knew by name every wave along thirty from 60dN. to

60dS. However, I'd hate to vouch for this.

Well, to get back to my narrative; we kept on dropping slowly toward

the surface the while we bucked the west wind, clawing away from thirty

as fast as we could. I was on the bridge, and as we dropped from the

brilliant sunlight into the dense vapor of clouds and on down through them

to the wild, dark storm strata beneath, it seemed that my spirits dropped

with the falling ship, and the buoyancy of hope ran low in sympathy.

The waves were running to tremendous heights, and the Coldwater

was not designed to meet such waves head on. Her elements were the

blue ether, far above the raging storm, or the greater depths of ocean,

which no storm could ruffle.

As I stood speculating upon our chances once we settled into the

frightful Maelstrom beneath us and at the same time mentally computing

the hours which must elapse before aid could reach us, the wireless

operator clambered up the ladder to the bridge, and, disheveled and

breathless, stood before me at salute. It needed but a glance at him to

assure me that something was amiss.

"What now?" I asked.

"The wireless, sir!" he cried. "My God, sir, I cannot send."

"But the emergency outfit?" I asked.

"I have tried everything, sir. I have exhausted every resource. We

cannot send," and he drew himself up and saluted again.

THE LOST CONTINENT

I dismissed him with a few kind words, for I knew that it was through

no fault of his that the mechanism was antiquated and worthless, in

common with the balance of the Coldwater's equipment. There was no

finer operator in Pan- America than he.

The failure of the wireless did not appear as momentous to me as to

him, which is not unnatural, since it is but human to feel that when our

own little cog slips, the entire universe must necessarily be put out of gear.

I knew that if this storm were destined to blow us across thirty, or send us

to the bottom of the ocean, no help could reach us in time to prevent it. I

had ordered the message sent solely because regulations required it, and

not with any particular hope that we could benefit by it in our present

extremity.

I had little time to dwell upon the coincidence of the simultaneous

failure of the wireless and the buoyancy generators, since very shortly

after the Coldwater had dropped so low over the waters that all my

attention was necessarily centered upon the delicate business of settling

upon the waves without breaking my ship's back. With our buoyancy

generators in commission it would have been a simple thing to enter the

water, since then it would have been but a trifling matter of a forty-five

degree dive into the base of a huge wave. We should have cut into the

water like a hot knife through butter, and have been totally submerged

with scarce a jar--I have done it a thousand times--but I did not dare

submerge the Coldwater for fear that it would remain submerged to the

end of time--a condition far from conducive to the longevity of

commander or crew.

Most of my officers were older men than I. John Alvarez, my first

officer, is twenty years my senior. He stood at my side on the bridge as

the ship glided closer and closer to those stupendous waves. He watched

my every move, but he was by far too fine an officer and gentleman to

embarrass me by either comment or suggestion.

When I saw that we soon would touch, I ordered the ship brought

around broadside to the wind, and there we hovered a moment until a huge

wave reached up and seized us upon its crest, and then I gave the order

that suddenly reversed the screening force, and let us into the ocean.

THE LOST CONTINENT

Down into the trough we went, wallowing like the carcass of a dead whale,

and then began the fight, with rudder and propellers, to force the

Coldwater back into the teeth of the gale and drive her on and on, farther

and farther from relentless thirty.

I think that we should have succeeded, even though the ship was

wracked from stem to stern by the terrific buffetings she received, and

though she were half submerged the greater part of the time, had no

further accident befallen us.

We were making headway, though slowly, and it began to look as

though we were going to pull through. Alvarez never left my side,

though I all but ordered him below for much-needed rest. My second

officer, Porfirio Johnson, was also often on the bridge. He was a good

officer, but a man for whom I had conceived a rather unreasoning aversion

almost at the first moment of meeting him, an aversion which was not

lessened by the knowledge which I subsequently gained that he looked

upon my rapid promotion with jealousy. He was ten years my senior

both in years and service, and I rather think he could never forget the fact

that he had been an officer when I was a green apprentice.

As it became more and more apparent that the Coldwater, under my

seamanship, was weathering the tempest and giving promise of pulling

through safely, I could have sworn that I perceived a shade of annoyance

and disappointment growing upon his dark countenance. He left the

bridge finally and went below. I do not know that he is directly

responsible for what followed so shortly after; but I have always had my

suspicions, and Alvarez is even more prone to place the blame upon him

than I.

It was about six bells of the forenoon watch that Johnson returned to

the bridge after an absence of some thirty minutes. He seemed nervous

and ill at ease--a fact which made little impression on me at the time, but

which both Alvarez and I recalled subsequently.

Not three minutes after his reappearance at my side the Coldwater

suddenly commenced to lose headway. I seized the telephone at my

elbow, pressing upon the button which would call the chief engineer to the

instrument in the bowels of the ship, only to find him already at the

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THELOSTCONTINENT1THELOSTCONTINENTEdgarRiceBurroughsTHELOSTCONTINENT21SinceearliestchildhoodIhavebeenstrangelyfascinatedbythemysterysurroundingthehistoryofthelastdaysoftwentiethcenturyEurope.Myinterestiskeenest,perhaps,notsomuchinrelationtoknownfactsastospeculationupontheunknowableofthetwocenturiesth...

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