Читать книгу Whirlaway: A Story of the Ages - H. C. F. Morant - Страница 4

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"O Earth, what changes hast thou seen!"

—Tennyson.

Rain, rain, rain! Would it never stop? It drummed on the roof; it lashed the window panes; it sang in the spouts; it drenched the trees, flattened the grass, and bowed the flowers in the garden; it made an overflowing river of every open drain. At the height of its malice it would change to hail, and then the house resounded like a huge rattle, which might have pleased a giant's child, but certainly did not please Helen.

No wonder Helen felt peevish! Only yesterday she had moved with her father and mother into this big, rambling house, so near the cliffs and the sea; and, like every healthy, inquisitive little girl of twelve, she wanted to explore, she wanted to find out about everything indoors and out of doors. And now the bothersome rain had come to damp her spirits.

The very name Lyell Lodge had fired her imagination. Her father had told her that the former owner, Mr. Barrow, a very learned man, had named it after Sir Charles Lyell, a famous geologist. Of course Helen wanted to know what a geologist was, and her father had said it was a man who studied the Earth's crust, and found in it many strange things, among them the remains of plants and animals that had lived millions of years ago, many of them unlike anything we see in the world to-day.

Helen had not even known that the Earth had a crust. She knew it was round, like a dumpling; but dumplings don't have crusts unless they are baked; and, if the Earth had a crust, it must be a different sort of crust. Helen had never been very much interested in crusts; she had liked better what was underneath them. Now, what could be underneath the Earth's crust? She thought of those things while the rain beat down, and she wondered if this old house held the key to them. She had been told that the former owner had been a very wise man, and she had already seen that he had left many books and papers behind him. She must look into them before long. She felt that Lyell Lodge was a place of mystery, where anything might happen.

She was alone in the house. Her father and mother had driven off to their old home soon after breakfast, before the rain started. They wanted to fetch a few little things they had left behind. So they told Helen to amuse herself till they came back; they would not be long. Doubtless the rain had delayed them. "You won't be frightened, dear, will you?" her mother had said. "You can sort out my work-basket while we're away, and here are your paint-box and drawing book and your jigsaw puzzle. There's a good coal-fire burning, and I'll wheel the table near the fire, and you'll be all right."

But work-basket and paint-box and jigsaw puzzle had soon become irksome to Helen, who wanted to explore the garden. "It's no use waiting for Mother and Dad," she said to herself; "if I can't go out into the garden, I'll ransack the house. I wonder if there's anything interesting down in the cellar. I'll start with that, just because I'm a bit frightened of it. Come, come, Helen; you're getting a big girl now. Twelve years of age! No nervousness, Miss," she said aloud, imitating the tones of her teacher. So down the steps she went to the huge, dim cellar, her heart fluttering. The first thing she saw, when her eyes had become used to the dusk, was a large box, bound with metal at the corners. Treasure, perhaps! She opened the lid and found, not pearls or diamonds or Spanish doubloons, but great lumps of common rock. "Bother!" said Helen. The next thing she saw, on the shelf nearby, was a large book with an old-fashioned binding. "Pictures, I hope!" Yes, there were pictures, coloured ones. "You come with me to the fire," she said to the book, "heavy as you are." As she was making her way to the cellar door with her burden, her left foot hit something that jingled. Laying down the book, she picked up a bunch of keys. "Curious!" she said; "I've never seen keys like these before. A green one, a yellow one, a red one! Rainbow keys! Keys to the treasure at the foot of the rainbow! I must show them to Mother."

With keys and book she got back to the warm sitting-room, and there was her mother drying her wet clothes and drying the wet fur of Helen's pet koala bear, Tirri, who had come with her to his new home. "Oh, you've brought my dear old Shiny Black Nose! Welcome home, Tirri!" And she perched him on one shoulder. "But where's Father?

"He had to go back for something else we forgot. He won't be here again till the afternoon," was the answer.

Helen told her mother about her visit to the cellar and showed her the keys and the book. "Yes," said her mother, "no doubt we shall find many strange things in this house. Mr. Barrow was a very peculiar man. He lived in this big house all alone with his books and his specimens. The neighbours around here used to call him the' Mystery Man ', because he used to disappear from the house and be away for weeks at a time. Yet no one ever saw him leave the house or return to it. He hardly spoke to any of them, but spent most of the day-time collecting plants and stones and most of the night in writing and reading. Your Father and he had been friends at college when they were young men. Mr. Barrow was a very brilliant student at the college, and afterwards he contributed to scientific journals, and his name was well known all over the world."

"Where is he now, Mother?" asked Helen.

"I am sorry to say, dear, that he died suddenly. Afterwards his lawyers wrote to your father, telling him that Mr. Barrow had made a will leaving him this house and garden for the sake of old friendship. Along with the will he had lodged with the lawyers a letter for your father, saying that he did not expect to live long; but he hoped that after his death your father would come to stay in the house and be as happy with wife and child as he had been with his books. And that is why we are here."

"Poor dear Mr. Barrow!" said Helen, her eyes filling with tears.

"Now, my child, I must be off to the kitchen," said the mother. "Sit by the fire and look at your book. Tirri will keep you company."

So Helen settled herself comfortably in a deep arm-chair with the big book on her knees, and Tirri curled up on the hearth-rug at her feet, his black nose buried in his soft fur, but one claw still clasping a little spray of gum leaves.

Helen found strange pictures in the book. They showed her the queerest and most grotesque animals, bulkier than the elephant at the Zoo and longer-necked than the giraffe. Some of them had spiky wings like the dragons in her fairy-tale book.

"Thank goodness you're only pictures," said Helen, "and well fastened down, or what would poor Tirri do? I wonder if there ever were such creatures. You give me the creeps! You make me believe in Bunyips. Never mind, you're just pictures at present, and I'll tell you what I think of you. You," pointing her finger at one fierce-looking animal, "you're a fierce one: and I wouldn't ask you to dinner. One of us would go away satisfied, and it wouldn't be Helen. As for you, sir" (turning to another page), "you're only stupid, though you're trying to look wise. No one ever was half so wise as you're making yourself out to be. Your nose is snubby, sir, and your toes are stubby, sir, and I shall call you Mr. Solemn Stupid; so there!"

"Why," she went on with a laugh, "that's almost poetry. Let me see:

"Your nose is very snubby, sir;

Your feet are very stubby, sir;

You look so very grubby, sir;

You're really such a fright.

You don't look very wise, sir;

You've funny little eyes, sir;

But I shouldn't criticize, sir; I know it's not polite."

But here her "poetry" ended in a giggle. When she had recovered sufficiently she turned to another page.

"Here's a long-necked one! It must be lunch-time with you before you've finished swallowing your breakfast. And you, sir, why do you want all those spikes on your wings? You couldn't fly through the trees with them, or you'd get caught, like Absalom. And did anyone ever see such an ugly creature as this? I wonder what your mother thought of you. Tirri, my dear, you look handsomer than ever." Again she turned the leaves.

"And here's another monster with a long, long, long, long tail, and a name as long. D-I-P—I'll get Dad to tell me how to say it. You wouldn't do for a circus; you'd scare the people away. I know, if I wanted to see you it would be from a very, very high tower through a telescope or out of an aeroplane fitted up with bombs. Ah, well, this is the last," and she closed the book with a snap.

Then she clasped her hands behind her brown curls and stared. thoughtfully into the fire, which now and then gave out a little puff of flame when a tiny volume of gas was let out of its black cell and became radiant with freedom. Her father had told her about these things. He had said that every spark in the fire was a sunbeam that had shone, millions of years ago, on the plants that had formed the coal. "What a strange, strange world we live in!" thought Helen. Red, yellow, and blue, the little flames danced before her. A coal slipped, the fire gave out a fiercer glow, and then, POUF!—a bright spark shot out, whirled round and round in the air, and settled suddenly at Helen's feet, close beside the sleeping koala.

Roused from her fancies, Helen gave a little jump, and looked for the spark lest it should set the rug on fire and burn her poor sleeping Tirri. Then she gave a big gasp, for the spark had turned to a merry little elf-like figure, dressed in the gayest colours, and dancing and whirling as if for joy. He wore a rich red cape, which he had thrown back like a Spanish cloak. He had pointed shoes and tight-fitting green trousers. But his waistcoat!—it was superb! It shone like Joseph's coat with all the colours of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Fancy cutting up a rainbow to make a waistcoat! Yet the brightest things about the little man were his eyes, which twinkled like diamonds. After a time he stopped his whirling and dancing, yawned, thrust his slender fingers through his red-gold hair, sat down on the hearth-rug, clasped his hands around his knees, and steadily stared at Helen.

He was such a radiantly friendly little mite! She smiled down at him to show him he was welcome. He stood up and bowed with a flourish, then asked, in the most musical voice one could imagine, "May I come up on the chair beside you?"

"Do!" said Helen, and he clambered up in a twinkling. He had all the quickness of a grasshopper.

"Do you know," Helen impulsively burst out, "you are the funniest little man I have ever seen? Did you really and truly come out of those coals on the fire?"

"I really and truly did, young lady; and very glad I was to escape from that black jail, where I had been shut up for a hundred million years."

"A hundred million years! A hundred million!" cried Helen. "Why, you don't look much older than I do, and you're not nearly so big."

"Nor so beautiful," said the little man with a smile. "But what I say is true. A hundred million years is as nothing to eternity. And size does not matter; it is only character that counts."

Somehow she didn't have any fear of her strange and unexpected visitor; but Helen saw that she must be very careful with this little man, who was so ready with his answers. "Tell me," she asked, "are you an elf, a gnome, or a goblin?"

"What a childish question!" was the somewhat impatient reply. "Can't you see," drawing himself to his full height, "that I am something much more wonderful? I belong," he said, proudly throwing back his cloak and revealing his rainbow vest, "to the brightest and lightest family in the world; I am a Sunbeam. Let me sing you a song of the Sunbeams." And, in his pleasant little voice, he piped out:

Oh, we come from our father, the Sun,

On our eight-minute trip to the Earth;

We are haters of gloom, we are lovers of fun,

And we flood the wide world with our mirth.

When they see us, the little birds sing,

And their petals the flowers unfold;

Warmth, colour, and beauty are gifts that we bring,

And health to the young and the old.

Without us no leaves could be green,

No fruits could grow ripe on the bough;

We do all your cooking; in fires we are seen,

Like the one that I quitted just now.

Helen was delighted with the song. She clapped her hands enthusiastically.

"And what is your name, if I may make so bold?" she asked politely, if somewhat breathlessly.

"I haven't one, but I know yours, for I heard you talking to yourself while I was in the fire. It is Helen—a very pretty name."

"How could you know if you were shut up in the coal?" asked Helen, quickly.

The little man smiled. "Sunbeams can talk to one another even through prison walls. I know all that has happened since I was shut up in my cell. I could even see beyond it. But you will not understand, not for a long, long while."

"Do you mind if I give you a name?" asked Helen. "Then we can talk more freely."

"At your service, Helen!" replied the little man with a friendly smile, accompanied by another graceful bow.

"Then I shall call you Whirlaway, if that suits you. Because, you know, you did whirl when you came out of the fire."

"Excellent! Excellent! I am indeed honoured," he exclaimed delightedly. He sprang to the big book, almost as big as himself, threw it open with a mighty effort, and gazed at the pictured monster with the long, long tail. "Ah ha! Here's an old friend of mine. I knew him," he asserted, somewhat proudly.

"But how could you?" inquired Helen with a puzzled frown.

"I thought he was only a make-believe, a sort of a never-was," she finished hurriedly.

"What, what!" said the little man somewhat testily. "Do you know so little of the past? I see I shall have to teach you many things, Helen."

At this point Tirri sleepily opened his eyes and sat up on the hearth-rug. He yawned and blinked unbelievingly at the gay-looking stranger. "Tirri, you old sleepy-head," said Helen, "we have a visitor. Let me introduce you to my new friend, Mr. Whirlaway. Whirlaway, Tirri; Tirri, Whirlaway."

Whirlaway, who had recovered his poise, bowed politely to Tirri.

"Ah, yes, a koala," he said; "I know all the animals past and present. But koalas are not very fond of Sunbeams; they sleep when we are most active." As if to confirm his words, Tirri rather rudely yawned again, and once more buried his nose in his fur.

"But tell me, Whirlaway," said Helen, "did those animals shown in the book really live?"

"Of course they did. And where did you find the book?"

"Come with me and I'll show you. Come on, Tirri. Let's go and see the cellar." And, picking Tirri up, she perched him on her shoulder, with the gum leaves still clasped in his paw, and led the way to the cellar. Under her arm she had gathered the book and the keys. The cellar was no longer so dark, for the little man shone like a firefly or a glow-worm, and Helen could see things much more clearly than before.

Under her arm she gathered the book and the keys.

"I don't see any more books," said Whirlaway.

"No," said Helen; "that was the only one I could find in the cellar. There's this big box, but it holds nothing but stones."

Whirlaway did not even look at the box, he was too busy inspecting the floor. "Whither does this door lead?" he called in eager tones.

"Door?" cried Helen, just as eagerly. "I can't see a door."

"Here, right at my feet!" he exclaimed, pointing to a ring in a trap-door on the cellar floor.

"Oh, so it is! I wonder why I didn't see it before," she said. Placing Tirri on the box, she knelt over the door he had indicated. "Help me, Whirlaway."

Helen and Whirlaway pulled at the ring with all their might. Slowly it began to move, and gradually it lifted, revealing a metal door.

"Hidden treasure here," cried Helen, clapping her hands in her excitement.

Whirlaway did not reply; he was far too busy pushing first this way and then that, when suddenly, as if he had pressed a secret button, it slid back, revealing an iron ladder leading to the darkness below.

Calling to Helen to follow him, Whirlaway went swiftly down the stairs. Helen, after some hesitation, made haste to go after him. She had forgotten Tirri, but the faithful koala had followed her, still holding his gum leaves.

As soon as Helen reached the bottom of the stairs a bright glow suffused the small room in which she found herself. At the same time a metallic click overhead indicated that the trap-door had shut to above them.

"Oh, what are we to do?" cried Helen, looking up in alarm. At her words Whirlaway went quickly up the steps again and pushed at the door, but it would not yield. "We are locked in, and nobody can hear us," she continued.

"Don't be afraid," said Whirlaway, in a confident manner; "we shall find some way out."

Helen, a little easier at the thought, looked round the room and caught sight of a large clock. It was a strange clock for it had only one hand.

"Oh, Whirlaway, do look at this," she cried. The face was numbered from one to ten, with a hundred little dots between each pair of numbers. Stranger still, the numbers ran the wrong way. It was a one-handed, back-to-front kind of clock. "Listen," said Helen; "it is not ticking; and what's that strange word to which the hand is pointing?" She spelled it out letter by letter—H-O-L-O-C-E-N-E.

"It means wholly recent, all new," replied Whirlaway, "and refers to the period of time in which life was practically the same as it is to-day. The different periods in the earth's history are reckoned by millions of years."

"Thank you," she said thoughtfully, and she remembered something she had read in the Bible: "A thousand years in Thy sight are but as a day."

Then she caught a glimpse of something else. It was a lever projecting from the wall, a long lever such as a railway signalman uses when he stands in his signal-box. "I'll pull it and see what happens," said Helen. "Perhaps it will open the metal door." She pulled with all her might. Immediately a bright light flashed on, and a grinding noise was heard.

"That's strange," said Whirlaway, who was examining the room with a great deal of interest. "Push it back again." When she pushed it back the light went out, and the grinding noise stopped. When she pulled it forward again the light came on and the grinding noise began again.

All this time Tirri had been steadily munching away at his gum leaves, which somehow never seemed to grow less, his little black beady eyes watching every movement of his beloved young mistress. He was not afraid—his mistress was there, that was enough for a koala!

Helen looked carefully at the wall, and there she saw four press-buttons—one green, one yellow, one red, and the remaining one black. Near each button was printed a name that was strange to her.

Helen was now ready for any adventure. She had lost her fear of being locked in. "I'll press a button," she said. "Perhaps a genie will appear, as one did to Aladdin." She chose the red button. As soon as she pressed it a whir-r-r came from beneath the floor.

"Ooh!" she gasped, clutching at Tirri for comfort. "We're sinking! I know we are! Can't you feel it, Whirlaway? The whole room is going down like a lift. I know it is because I have that funny 'lifty' feeling right inside me! Don't you feel the same, Whirlaway?" Helen's voice rose in alarm, and poor Tirri almost dropped his gum leaves; but down, down they went—down! down!

The clock face which showed helen the various periods of the world.