They all passed around as directed, and Cobb applied himself to the wheel and gearing. Weak as he was, it became somewhat of a difficult task for him to turn the screw, but the mechanism had been so perfectly adjusted that it revolved even by his feeble strength. Lifting up the spring catch, he slowly turned the screw, and the door opened upon its rusty hinges.
A moment later, all were in the chamber of the Statue of Liberty.
Astonishment was depicted upon the countenances of all, as they beheld the interior of the chamber and its peculiar contents. But Rawolle gave no heed to the strange condition of the place; his thoughts were upon Cobb, who lay upon the floor, where he had fallen, unconscious, after opening the door. Quickly seizing him, they bore his body to the fire and rubbed back the departing life. His legs and arms were stiff from long inaction; his face was wan and his form somewhat emaciated. Their work was soon rewarded by a return to consciousness of their patient. Rawolle opened the box from which he had seen the clothing taken, and soon Cobb was clad in warm, comfortable garments. Ten minutes were consumed in preparing fresh broth and administering to the weak man’s wants.
Cobb’s strength returned quickly to him, thanks to the liquor and beef juice, and he moved from the fire toward the compass case.
“You say it is A. D. 2000?” he asked again; “are you not joking me? Is it indeed that year? or, rather, is A. D. 2000 this year?”
“For a fact,” answered Rawolle. “It is as I tell you; and we are now in the year 2000.”
All the others joined Rawolle in assuring Cobb that he was not the subject of any jest; it was just as had been told him.
“I cannot understand it; I cannot see why I have lain so long. I should have been awake years ago, in 1988; something has gone wrong,” and he moved closer to the compass case. “It must be here, if anywhere,” and he leaned over the box and gazed upon the needle and wheel-work. An instant only he looked, and then he sprang back and exclaimed:
“Ah! what is this?” and an expression of blank astonishment came over his face. “What is this? The needle of the compass not at 260, but still far away to the east of it!” and he examined it most carefully.
There it was, not at 260, but away to the east of those figures—at 899, or to the reading of 14 degrees 59 minutes. There was some mystery about this that sorely puzzled the brain of Cobb.