With Airship and Submarine: A Tale of Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

And he forthwith laid hold of a rope’s-end, and with some difficulty hauled himself into position above the fore end of the skylight. Having firmly established himself upon it, he proceeded to haul the baronet up after him. Then, between them, they managed to force open the starboard half of the skylight cover, when, swinging his legs over the ledge of the skylight, Mildmay grasped a rope and lowered himself down into the interior of the cuddy.

For a moment he could see nothing, for the only light penetrating this interior came down through the skylight, and that was not much; he therefore switched on his electric lamps and looked about him. He found himself standing upon the after bulkhead of the apartment, with his feet on a door which apparently gave access to one of the

stern cabins; and stepping aside sufficiently for the purpose, he was in the act of stooping to unfasten the door, when he suddenly found himself enveloped by a number of long, strong, pliant, embracing arms, and violently snatched off his feet! His surprise was so great that for the moment he could not imagine what had happened to him; he knew only that his arms and legs were so tightly pinioned that, despite his utmost exertions, he found it absolutely impossible to move. But knowledge came to him the next moment—the knowledge that he was in the embrace of an enormous octopus! And as he realised this fact, he heard the horrid rasping of the fierce creature’s powerful mandibles upon his helmet.

The sound sent a thrill of horror through him, for the thought flashed through his mind, “If the brute should pierce my helmet, I shall be drowned like a rat in a trap!” But a moment later he became reassured, as he remembered the extraordinary strength and toughness of the aethereum of which not only his helmet but his whole suit of armour was composed; and with the revulsion of feeling, he laughed aloud at the amusing character of the situation—for it was amusing to him to think of the creature’s disappointment at its utter inability to pierce his shell and get at him.

But, stay—was the situation really so very amusing after all? For now Mildmay began to realise that the octopus was steadily working its way backward and upward through a big breach in the fore bulkhead of the cabin, carrying him with it; and presently he found himself outside the cabin altogether, and in the open space at the bottom of the companion ladder. But the creature did not pause here. Still working its way upward, it dragged Mildmay along a wide alley-way between the ship’s side and the casing of the companion-way until it reached the bulkhead between this space and the main hold. The straining of the ship, which had eventually resulted in her breaking in two, had also rent this bulkhead apart, leaving an aperture some ten feet wide, and through this in turn the octopus gradually worked its way, until it had passed into what—before the ship broke in two—had been the main hold. And now Mildmay was able to understand what had been greatly puzzling him—how it was that the creature had come to be inside the ship at all; it was evidently through these breaches in the bulkheads that it had made its way; and, just prior to the moment of his seizure, the sailor had caught a momentary shuddering glimpse of something in the cuddy that went far to explain why it had made its way there.

That the octopus had some definite objective now became perfectly clear, for it still kept untiringly on its way, forcing its passage this way and that, through the interstices between a confused heap of bales and cases that had formed a part of the ship’s cargo, until at length, after about half an hour’s arduous work, it emerged, clear of everything, into open water, when it at once made for a cave-like aperture in the reef, into which it passed, still firmly clasping its prisoner in the embrace of its snake-like tentacles.

And now Mildmay began to realise the serious character of the extraordinary plight in which he thus unexpectedly found himself involved. For it now flashed upon him that, in the astonishment following upon his seizure, he had failed to raise any outcry, with the object of making his friends acquainted with his predicament; indeed, he had been so fully occupied in struggling to free himself from the fettering embrace of his enemy that it had not occurred to him to cry out until it had become altogether too late to make his voice heard; and he now found himself thrust, how deep he knew not, into this submarine cave, but certainly much too far for his voice to reach those outside and bring them to his assistance. And, meanwhile, the octopus still held him in so tenacious a grip that he found it absolutely impossible to free his hands and so get at his two-bladed, electric dagger, with which, as he believed, he could make short work of his antagonist; indeed, every time that he made the slightest attempt to move his limbs, he felt the tentacles still further strengthen their grip upon him. And now that he had time to think of it, he became conscious of the fact that he was feeling pretty completely exhausted by his previous struggles and the extreme violence with which he had been dragged hither and thither in his passage from the wrecked ship’s cuddy to the cave. He was bruised and aching in every joint of his body, and was, furthermore, suffering severely from cramp due to the constraint upon his limbs.

How was he to effect his escape? His friends outside could not help him, for the simple reason that they did not know his whereabouts. Doubtless they were by this time beginning to feel uneasy about him—were, perhaps, even instituting a search for him; but such a search as they were likely to make would not benefit him, for the utmost that they could ascertain would be that, after entering the cuddy, he had most mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared. For he was well aware that there was absolutely nothing to show which way he had gone; more than that, he had gone by a way that would have been absolutely impossible to his own unaided efforts. No, he told himself, it was quite useless to look for help from the others; whatever was to be done he himself must do.

And then he began to turn over in his mind the possibilities of the situation. How long would the creature be likely to hold him thus prisoner? Would it release him when at length it realised the impossibility of penetrating his armour? And, if so, how long was it likely to be ere the release came? Failing to make a meal of him, the thing would undoubtedly be obliged to go forth, sooner or later, to seek for food. But Mildmay had only the most elementary knowledge as to the habits of the octopus, and he had a hazy idea that, like certain snakes, the creature might only feed at more or less long intervals, in which case he might be held a prisoner for a week or more. This was a distinctly disquieting reflection while it lasted, but it presently occurred to him that it was by no means probable that, let the creature’s habits be what they might, it would retain that vice-like grip upon him for any very lengthened period, and his chance would come when that grip relaxed. And it was an easy step from that conclusion to the next, which was that he must do what he could to cause the grip to relax as quickly as possible. He had already observed that the creature tightened the clasp of its tentacles about him whenever he moved or struggled; and the obvious corollary from this was that, the more quiescent he could remain, the sooner would his opportunity come to wrench an arm free and use his deadly dagger.