The Bondman: A New Saga

by Sir Hall Caine

"Yes," said the Judge.

Then the look of bewilderment in the faces of the people deepened to consternation. At that moment Michael Sunlocks was raised to his feet. And Jorgen Jorgensen, standing like an old snuffy tiger on the watch, laughed again, and turning to Jason he pointed at Sunlocks and said, "What did I say? A pretty farce truly, this pretence at unconsciousness. Small good it has done him. And he has little to thank you for. You have brought him here to his death."

What answer Jason would have made him, no man may say, for at that moment the same terrestrial thunder that had been heard before was heard again, and the earth became violently agitated as with a deep pulsation. The people looked into each other's faces with dismay, and scarcely had they realized the horror that waited to pour itself out on the world, when a man came galloping from the south and crying, "The mountains are coming down at Skaptar. Fly! fly!"

They stopped the man and questioned him, and he answered, with terror in his eyes, that the ice-mountain itself was sweeping down into the plain. Then he put his heels to his horse and broke away.

Hardly had the people heard this dread word when another man came galloping from the southwest, and crying, "The sea is throwing up new islands at Reykianess, and all the rivers are dry."

They stopped this man also, and questioned him, and he answered that the sky at the coast was raining red-hot stones, so that the sea hissed with them, and all the land was afire. Then he, too, put his heels to his horse and broke away.

Scarcely had he gone, when a third man came galloping from the southeast, and crying, "The land around Hekla is washed away, and not a green place is left on the face of the earth."

This man also they stopped and questioned, and he answered that a torrent of boiling water was rolling down from the Kotlugia yakul, hurling ice-blocks before it, and sweeping farms, churches, cattle, horses, and men, women, and children into the sea. Then this man also put his heels to his horse and broke away, like one pursued by death itself.

For some moments thereafter the people stood where the men had left them, silent, helpless, unable to think or feel. Then there rose from them all, as from one man, such a shriek of mortal agony as never before came from human breasts. In their terror they ran hither and thither, without thought or intention. They took to their tents, they took to their ponies, they galloped north, they galloped south, they galloped east, they galloped west, and then came scurrying back to the Mount from which they had started. A great danger was about to burst upon them, but they could not tell from what direction it would come. Some remembered their homes and the wives and children they had left there. Others thought only of themselves and of the fire and water that were dealing out death.

In two minutes the Mount was a barren waste, the fissures on its sides were empty, and the seats on the crags were bare. The Thing-men and the clergy were rushing to and fro in the throng, and the old Bishop and the Judge were seeking their horses.