A. E. Merritt - The Moon Pool

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Stanton ever since a tardy despatch from Melbourne, Australia,

reported the disappearance of the first from a ship sailing to that

port, and the subsequent reports of the disappearance of his wife

and associate from the camp of their expedition in the Caroline

Islands.

Second:

Because the Executive Council have concluded that Dr.

Goodwin's experiences in his wholly heroic effort to save the three,

and the lessons and warnings within those experiences, are too

important to humanity as a whole to be hidden away in scientific

papers understandable only to the technically educated; or to be

presented through the newspaper press in the abridged and

fragmentary form which the space limitations of that vehicle make

necessary.

For these reasons the Executive Council commissioned Mr. A.

Merritt to transcribe into form to be readily understood by the

layman the stenographic notes of Dr. Goodwin's own report to the

Council, supplemented by further oral reminiscences and

comments by Dr. Goodwin; this transcription, edited and censored

by the Executive Council of the Association, forms the contents of

this book.

Himself a member of the Council, Dr. Walter T. Goodwin, Ph.D.,

F.R.G.S. etc., is without cavil the foremost of American botanists,

an observer of international reputation and the author of several

epochal treatises upon his chosen branch of science. His story,

amazing in the best sense of that word as it may be, is fully

supported by proofs brought forward by him and accepted by the

organization of which I have the honor to be president. What matter

has been elided from this popular presentation--because of the

excessively menacing potentialities it contains, which unrestricted

Over the island brooded a spirit sullen, alien, implacable, filled with

the threat of latent, malefic forces waiting to be unleashed. It

seemed an emanation out of the untamed, sinister heart of Papua

herself--sinister even when she smiles. And now and then, on the

wind, came a breath from virgin jungles, laden with unfamiliar

odours, mysterious and menacing.

It is on such mornings that Papua whispers to you of her

immemorial ancientness and of her power. And, as every white man

must, I fought against her spell. While I struggled I saw a tall figure

striding down the pier; a Kapa-Kapa boy followed swinging a new

valise. There was something familiar about the tall man. As he

reached the gangplank he looked up straight into my eyes, stared

for a moment, then waved his hand.

And now I knew him. It was Dr. David Throckmartin--"Throck"

he was to me always, one of my oldest friends and, as well, a mind

of the first water whose power and achievements were for me a

constant inspiration as they were, I know, for scores other.

Coincidentally with my recognition came a shock of surprise,

definitely--unpleasant. It was Throckmartin--but about him was

something disturbingly unlike the man I had known long so well

and to whom and to whose little party I had bidden farewell less

than a month before I myself had sailed for these seas. He had

married only a few weeks before, Edith, the daughter of Professor

William Frazier, younger by at least a decade than he but at one

with him in his ideals and as much in love, if it were possible, as

Throckmartin. By virtue of her father's training a wonderful

assistant, by virtue of her own sweet, sound heart a--I use the word

in its olden sense--lover. With his equally youthful associate Dr.

Charles Stanton and a Swedish woman, Thora Halversen, who had

been Edith Throckmartin's nurse from babyhood, they had set forth

for the Nan-Matal, that extraordinary group of island ruins

clustered along the eastern shore of Ponape in the Carolines.

what was that difference that had so moved me. He knew, of course

by my silence and involuntary shrinking the shock my closer look

had given me. His eyes filled; he turned brusquely from the purser,

hesitated --then hurried off to his stateroom.

"'E looks rather queer--eh?" said the purser. "Know 'im well, sir?

Seems to 'ave given you quite a start."

I made some reply and went slowly up to my chair. There I sat,

composed my mind and tried to define what it was that had shaken

me so. Now it came to me. The old Throckmartin was on the eve of

his venture just turned forty, lithe, erect, muscular; his controlling

expression one of enthusiasm, of intellectual keenness, of--what

shall I say --expectant search. His always questioning brain had

stamped its vigor upon his face.

But the Throckmartin I had seen below was one who had borne

some scaring shock of mingled rapture and horror; some soul

cataclysm that in its climax had remoulded, deep from within, his

face, setting on it seal of wedded ecstasy and despair; as though

indeed these two had come to him hand in hand, taken possession

of him and departing left behind, ineradicably, their linked

shadows!

Yes--it was that which appalled. For how could rapture and

horror, Heaven and Hell mix, clasp hands--kiss?

Yet these were what in closest embrace lay on Throckmartin's

face!

Deep in thought, subconsciously with relief, I watched the shore

line sink behind; welcomed the touch of the wind of the free seas. I

had hoped, and within the hope was an inexplicable shrinking that

I would meet Throckmartin at lunch. He did not come down, and I

was sensible of deliverance within my disappointment. All that

afternoon I lounged about uneasily but still he kept to his cabin--

and within me was no strength to summon him. Nor did he appear

at dinner.

curiously eager, intent gaze, hesitated, then closed the door behind

him.

"Throck," I called. "Come! It's Goodwin."

He made his way to me.

"Throck," I said, wasting no time in preliminaries.

"What's wrong? Can I help you?"

I felt his body grow tense.

"I'm going to Melbourne, Goodwin," he answered. "I need a few

things--need them urgently. And more men--white men--"

He stopped abruptly; rose from his chair, gazed intently toward

the north. I followed his gaze. Far, far away the moon had broken

through the clouds. Almost on the horizon, you could see the faint

luminescence of it upon the smooth sea. The distant patch of light

quivered and shook. The clouds thickened again and it was gone.

The ship raced on southward, swiftly.

Throckmartin dropped into his chair. He lighted a cigarette with

a hand that trembled; then turned to me with abrupt resolution.

"Goodwin," he said. "I do need help. If ever man needed it, I do.

Goodwin--can you imagine yourself in another world, alien,

unfamiliar, a world of terror, whose unknown joy is its greatest

terror of all; you all alone there, a stranger! As such a man would

need help, so I need--"

He paused abruptly and arose; the cigarette dropped from his

fingers. The moon had again broken through the clouds, and this

time much nearer. Not a mile away was the patch of light that it

threw upon the waves. Back of it, to the rim of the sea was a lane of

moonlight; a gigantic gleaming serpent racing over the edge of the

world straight and surely toward the ship.

Throckmartin stiffened to it as a pointer does to a hidden covey.

To me from him pulsed a thrill of horror--but horror tinged with an

unfamiliar, an infernal joy. It came to me and passed away--leaving

me trembling with its shock of bitter sweet.

Sea were held back to let the hosts of Israel through. On each side

of the stream was the black shadow cast by the folds of the high

canopies And straight as a road between the opaque walls gleamed,

shimmered, and danced the shining, racing, rapids of the moonlight

Far, it seemed immeasurably far, along this stream of silver fire I

sensed, rather than saw, something coming. It drew first into sight

as a deeper glow within the light. On and on it swept toward us--an

opalescent mistiness that sped with the suggestion of some winged

creature in arrowed flight. Dimly there crept into my mind memory

of the Dyak legend of the winged messenger of Buddha--the Akla

bird whose feathers are woven of the moon rays, whose heart is a

living opal, whose wings in flight echo the crystal clear music of the

white stars--but whose beak is of frozen flame and shreds the souls

of unbelievers.

Closer it drew and now there came to me sweet, insistent

tinklings--like pizzicati on violins of glass; crystal clear; diamonds

melting into sounds!

Now the Thing was close to the end of the white path; close up to

the barrier of darkness still between the ship and the sparkling

head of the moon stream. Now it beat up against that barrier as a

bird against the bars of its cage. It whirled with shimmering

plumes, with swirls of lacy light, with spirals of living vapour. It

held within it odd, unfamiliar gleams as of shifting mother-of-pearl.

Coruscations and glittering atoms drifted through it as though it

drew them from the rays that bathed it.

Nearer and nearer it came, borne on the sparkling waves, and

ever thinner shrank the protecting wall of shadow between it and

us. Within the mistiness was a core, a nucleus of intenser light--

veined, opaline, effulgent, intensely alive. And above it, tangled in

the plumes and spirals that throbbed and whirled were seven

glowing lights.

Came to me now a murmuring cry, stilling the crystal notes. It

was articulate--but as though from something utterly foreign to this

world. The ear took the cry and translated with conscious labour

into the sounds of earth. And even as it compassed, the brain

shrank from it irresistibly, and simultaneously it seemed reached

toward it with irresistible eagerness.

Throckmartin strode toward the front of the deck, straight

toward the vision, now but a few yards away from the stern. His

face had lost all human semblance. Utter agony and utter ecstasy--

there they were side by side, not resisting each other; unholy

inhuman companions blending into a look that none of God's

creatures should wear--and deep, deep as his soul! A devil and a

God dwelling harmoniously side by side! So must Satan, newly

fallen, still divine, seeing heaven and contemplating hell, have

appeared.

And then--swiftly the moon path faded! The clouds swept over

the sky as though a hand had drawn them together. Up from the

south came a roaring squall. As the moon vanished what I had seen

vanished with it--blotted out as an image on a magic lantern; the

tinkling ceased abruptly--leaving a silence like that which follows

an abrupt thunder clap. There was nothing about us but silence

and blackness!

Through me passed a trembling as one who has stood on the

very verge of the gulf wherein the men of the Louisades says lurks

the fisher of the souls of men, and has been plucked back by

sheerest chance.

Throckmartin passed an arm around me.

"It is as I thought," he said. In his voice was a new note; the calm

certainty that has swept aside a waiting terror of the unknown.

"Now I know! Come with me to my cabin, old friend. For now that

you too have seen I can tell you"--he hesitated--"what it was you

saw," he ended.

relief and hope as was in his voice.

The sailor stood amazed. "Thank God?" he repeated. "Thank--

what d'ye mean?"

But Throckmartin was moving onward to his cabin. I started to

follow. The first officer stopped me.

"Your friend," he said, "is he ill?"

"The sea!" I answered hurriedly. "He's not used to it. I am going

to look after him."

Doubt and disbelief were plain in the seaman's eyes but I hurried

on. For I knew now that Throckmartin was ill indeed--but with a

sickness the ship's doctor nor any other could heal.

"Look at this," he said. Around his chest, above his heart, the

skin was white as pearl. This whiteness was sharply defined against

the healthy tint of the body. It circled him with an even cincture

about two inches wide.

"Burn it!" he said, and offered me his cigarette. I drew back. He

gestured--peremptorily. I pressed the glowing end of the cigarette

into the ribbon of white flesh. He did not flinch nor was there odour

of burning nor, as I drew the little cylinder away, any mark upon

the whiteness.

"Feel it!" he commanded again. I placed my fingers upon the

band. It was cold--like frozen marble.

He drew his shirt around him.

"Two things you have seen," he said. "IT--and its mark. Seeing,

you must believe my story. Goodwin, I tell you again that my wife is

dead--or worse--I do not know; the prey of--what you saw; so, too, is

Stanton; so Thora. How--"

Tears rolled down the seared face.

"Why did God let it conquer us? Why did He let it take my

Edith?" he cried in utter bitterness. "Are there things stronger than

God, do you think, Walter?"

I hesitated.

"Are there? Are there?" His wild eyes searched me.

"I do not know just how you define God," I managed at last

through my astonishment to make answer. "If you mean the will to

know, working through science--"

He waved me aside impatiently.

"Science," he said. "What is our science against--that? Or against

the science of whatever devils that made it--or made the way for it

to enter this world of ours?"

With an effort he regained control.

"Goodwin," he said, "do you know at all of the ruins on the

Carolines; the cyclopean, megalithic cities and harbours of Ponape

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摘要：

StantoneversinceatardydespatchfromMelbourne,Australia,reportedthedisappearanceofthefirstfromashipsailingtothatport,andthesubsequentreportsofthedisappearanceofhiswifeandassociatefromthecampoftheirexpeditionintheCarolineIslands.Second:BecausetheExecutiveCouncilhaveconcludedthatDr.Goodwin'sexperiencesi...

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A. E. Merritt - The Moon Pool

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