Chapter 5

Departure Night

9 min

When they returned to the house, the windows were all in darkness and the door was ajar, just as they had left it; Krag presumably was not there. Maskull went all over the house, striking matches in every room—at the end of the examination he was ready to swear that the man they were expecting had not even stuck his nose inside the premises. Groping their way into the library, they sat down in the total darkness to wait, for nothing else remained to be done. Maskull lit his pipe, and began to drink the remainder of the whisky. Through the open window sounded in their ears the trainlike grinding of the sea at the foot of the cliffs.

When they returned to the house, all the windows were dark and the door was ajar, just as they had left it. Krag was presumably not there. Maskull searched the whole house, striking matches in every room. Afterward, he was ready to swear that the man they were expecting had not even set foot inside. They felt their way into the library and sat down in total darkness to wait. There was nothing else to do. Maskull lit his pipe and began to drink the rest of the whisky. Through the open window, they heard the sea grinding like a train at the foot of the cliffs.

“Krag must be in the tower after all,” remarked Maskull, breaking the silence.

“Krag must be in the tower after all,” said Maskull, breaking the silence.

“Yes, he is getting ready.”

“I hope he doesn’t expect us to join him there. It was beyond my powers—but why, heaven knows. The stairs must have a magnetic pull of some sort.”

“I hope he doesn’t expect us to join him there. I couldn’t do it, but heaven knows why. The stairs must have some kind of magnetic pull.”

“It is Tormantic gravity,” muttered Nightspore.

“It’s Tormantic gravity,” muttered Nightspore.

“I understand you—or, rather, I don’t—but it doesn’t matter.”

“I understand you. Actually, I don’t, but it doesn’t matter.”

He went on smoking in silence, occasionally taking a mouthful of the neat liquor. “Who is Surtur?” he demanded abruptly.

He kept smoking in silence, occasionally taking a sip of the undiluted liquor. “Who is Surtur?” he demanded suddenly.

“We others are gropers and bunglers, but he is a master.”

“We others are fumblers and blunderers, but he is a master.”

Maskull digested this. “I fancy you are right, for though I know nothing about him his mere name has an exciting effect on me.... Are you personally acquainted with him?”

Maskull thought this over. “I think you are right. Though I know nothing about him, his name alone excites me.... Do you know him personally?”

“I must be... I forget...” replied Nightspore in a choking voice.

“I must be... I forget...” Nightspore replied, his voice choking.

Maskull looked up, surprised, but could make nothing out in the blackness of the room.

Maskull looked up in surprise, but he could see nothing in the dark room.

“Do you know so many extraordinary men that you can forget some of them?... Perhaps you can tell me this... will we meet him, where we are going?”

“Do you know so many extraordinary men that you can forget some of them?... Perhaps you can tell me this... will we meet him where we’re going?”

“You will meet death, Maskull.... Ask me no more questions—I can’t answer them.”

“You will die, Maskull.... Don’t ask me any more questions. I can’t answer them.”

“Then let us go on waiting for Krag,” said Maskull coldly.

“Then let's keep waiting for Krag,” said Maskull coldly.

Ten minutes later the front door slammed, and a light, quick footstep was heard running up the stairs. Maskull got up, with a beating heart.

Ten minutes later, the front door slammed. Light, quick footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. Maskull stood up, his heart beating fast.

Krag appeared on the threshold of the door, bearing in his hand a feebly glimmering lantern. A hat was on his head, and he looked stern and forbidding. After scrutinising the two friends for a moment or so, he strode into the room and thrust the lantern on the table. Its light hardly served to illuminate the walls.

Krag appeared in the doorway, holding a dimly glowing lantern. He wore a hat and looked stern and forbidding. He studied the two friends for a moment, then strode into the room and set the lantern on the table. Its light barely illuminated the walls.

“You have got here, then, Maskull?”

“So you’ve made it here, Maskull?”

“So it seems—but I shan’t thank you for your hospitality, for it has been conspicuous by its absence.”

“So it seems. But I won’t thank you for your hospitality, because there hasn’t been any.”

Krag ignored the remark. “Are you ready to start?”

“By all means—when you are. It is not so entertaining here.”

“Of course, when you are. It’s not as entertaining here.”

Krag surveyed him critically. “I heard you stumbling about in the tower. You couldn’t get up, it seems.”

Krag looked him over critically. “I heard you stumbling around in the tower. It seems you couldn’t get up.”

“It looks like an obstacle, for Nightspore informs me that the start takes place from the top.”

“It looks like an obstacle, because Nightspore tells me the start is at the top.”

“But your other doubts are all removed?”

“But are all your other doubts gone?”

“So far, Krag, that I now possess an open mind. I am quite willing to see what you can do.”

“So far, Krag, I have an open mind. I'm quite willing to see what you can do.”

“Nothing more is asked.... But this tower business. You know that until you are able to climb to the top you are unfit to stand the gravitation of Tormance?”

“Nothing more is asked.... But about the tower. You know that until you can climb to the top, you cannot withstand Tormance’s gravity?”

“Then I repeat, it’s an awkward obstacle, for I certainly can’t get up.”

“Then I’ll say it again, it’s a difficult obstacle, because I definitely can’t get up.”

Krag hunted about in his pockets, and at length produced a clasp knife.

Krag searched his pockets and finally pulled out a folding knife.

“Remove your coat, and roll up your shirt sleeve,” he directed.

“Take off your coat and roll up your shirt sleeve,” he instructed.

“Do you propose to make an incision with that?”

“Are you going to make a cut with that?”

“Yes, and don’t start difficulties, because the effect is certain, but you can’t possibly understand it beforehand.”

“Yes, and don’t raise objections. The effect is certain, but you can’t possibly understand it beforehand.”

“Still, a cut with a pocket-knife—” began Maskull, laughing.

“Still, a cut with a pocketknife...” Maskull began, laughing.

“It will answer, Maskull,” interrupted Nightspore.

“It will work, Maskull,” interrupted Nightspore.

“Then bare your arm too, you aristocrat of the universe,” said Krag. “Let us see what your blood is made of.”

“Then show us your arm too, you aristocrat of the universe,” said Krag. “Let's see what your blood is made of.”

Nightspore obeyed.

Krag pulled out the big blade of the knife, and made a careless and almost savage slash at Maskull’s upper arm. The wound was deep, and blood flowed freely.

Krag pulled out the knife’s big blade and slashed Maskull’s upper arm carelessly, almost savagely. The cut was deep, and blood flowed freely.

“Do I bind it up?” asked Maskull, scowling with pain.

“Should I bandage it?” asked Maskull, scowling in pain.

Krag spat on the wound. “Pull your shirt down, it won’t bleed any more.”

Krag spat on the wound. “Pull your shirt down. The wound won’t bleed anymore.”

He then turned his attention to Nightspore, who endured his operation with grim indifference. Krag threw the knife on the floor.

He then turned to Nightspore, who endured the operation with grim indifference. Krag threw the knife on the floor.

An awful agony, emanating from the wound, started to run through Maskull’s body, and he began to doubt whether he would not have to faint, but it subsided almost immediately, and then he felt nothing but a gnawing ache in the injured arm, just strong enough to make life one long discomfort.

Terrible pain spread from the wound through Maskull’s body, and he wondered if he might faint. But the pain faded almost immediately. Then he felt nothing but a gnawing ache in his injured arm, just strong enough to make life a constant discomfort.

“That’s finished,” said Krag. “Now you can follow me.”

Picking up the lantern, he walked toward the door. The others hastened after him, to take advantage of the light, and a moment later their footsteps, clattering down the uncarpeted stairs, resounded through the deserted house. Krag waited till they were out, and then banged the front door after them with such violence that the windows shook.

He picked up the lantern and walked toward the door. The others hurried after him to stay in the light. A moment later, their footsteps clattered down the bare stairs, echoing through the deserted house. Krag waited until they were outside. Then he slammed the front door behind them so hard that the windows shook.

While they were walking swiftly across to the tower, Maskull caught his arm. “I heard a voice up those stairs.”

As they walked quickly toward the tower, Maskull grabbed his arm. “I heard a voice up those stairs.”

“What did it say?”

“That I am to go, but Nightspore is to return.”

“That I must go, but Nightspore must return.”

Krag smiled. “The journey is getting notorious,” he remarked, after a pause. “There must be ill-wishers about.... Well, do you want to return?”

Krag smiled. After a pause, he said, “The journey is getting a bad reputation. There must be people around who wish us harm.... Well, do you want to go back?”

“I don’t know what I want. But I thought the thing was curious enough to be mentioned.”

“I don’t know what I want. But I thought it was curious enough to mention.”

“It is not a bad thing to hear voices,” said Krag, “but you mustn’t for a minute imagine that all is wise that comes to you out of the night world.”

“Hearing voices isn’t a bad thing,” said Krag, “but don’t imagine for a moment that everything you hear from the night world is wise.”

When they had arrived at the open gateway of the tower, he immediately set foot on the bottom step of the spiral staircase and ran nimbly up, bearing the lantern. Maskull followed him with some trepidation, in view of his previous painful experience on these stairs, but when, after the first half-dozen steps, he discovered that he was still breathing freely, his dread changed to relief and astonishment, and he could have chattered like a girl.

When they reached the tower’s open gateway, he immediately stepped onto the spiral staircase and ran nimbly up, carrying the lantern. Maskull followed him nervously, remembering his earlier painful experience on the stairs. But after the first six steps, he found that he was still breathing freely. His dread turned to relief and amazement, and he could have chattered like a girl.

At the lowest window Krag went straight ahead without stopping, but Maskull clambered into the embrasure, in order to renew his acquaintance with the miraculous spectacle of the Arcturian group. The lens had lost its magic property. It had become a common sheet of glass, through which the ordinary sky field appeared.

At the lowest window, Krag walked straight on without stopping. But Maskull climbed into the window recess to see the miraculous Arcturian group again. The lens had lost its magic. It was now an ordinary sheet of glass, showing only the ordinary sky beyond.

The climb continued, and at the second and third windows he again mounted and stared out, but still the common sights presented themselves. After that, he gave up and looked through no more windows.

He continued climbing. At the second and third windows, he climbed up and looked out again, but saw only the same ordinary sights. After that, he gave up and didn't look through any more windows.

Krag and Nightspore meanwhile had gone on ahead with the light, so that he had to complete the ascent in darkness. When he was near the top, he saw yellow light shining through the crack of a half-opened door. His companions were standing just inside a small room, shut off from the staircase by rough wooden planking; it was rudely furnished and contained nothing of astronomical interest. The lantern was resting on a table.

Meanwhile, Krag and Nightspore had gone ahead with the light, so he had to finish climbing in the dark. Near the top, he saw yellow light shining through the crack of a half-open door. His companions stood just inside a small room, separated from the staircase by rough wooden boards. The room was simply furnished and contained nothing of astronomical interest. The lantern sat on a table.

Maskull walked in and looked around him with curiosity. “Are we at the top?”

Maskull walked in and looked around curiously. “Are we at the top?”

“Except for the platform over our heads,” replied Krag.

“Except for the platform above our heads,” Krag replied.

“Why didn’t that lowest window magnify, as it did earlier in the evening?”

“Why didn’t the lowest window magnify things like it did earlier this evening?”

“Oh, you missed your opportunity,” said Krag, grinning. “If you had finished your climb then, you would have seen heart-expanding sights. From the fifth window, for example, you would have seen Tormance like a continent in relief; from the sixth you would have seen it like a landscape.... But now there’s no need.”

“Oh, you missed your chance,” said Krag, grinning. “If you had finished your climb then, you would have seen breathtaking sights. From the fifth window, for example, you would have seen Tormance like a raised map of a continent. From the sixth, you would have seen Tormance like a landscape.... But now there’s no need.”

“Why not—and what has need got to do with it?”

“Why not? And what does need have to do with it?”

“Things are changed, my friend, since that wound of yours. For the same reason that you have now been able to mount the stairs, there was no necessity to stop and gape at illusions en route.”

“Things have changed since you were wounded, my friend. For the same reason you can now climb the stairs, you didn’t need to stop and gape at illusions along the way.”

“Very well,” said Maskull, not quite understanding what he meant. “But is this Surtur’s den?”

“All right,” said Maskull. He didn’t quite understand what he meant. “But is this Surtur’s den?”

“He has spent time here.”

“I wish you would describe this mysterious individual, Krag. We may not get another chance.”

“I wish you would describe this mysterious person, Krag. We may not get another chance.”

“What I said about the windows also applies to Surtur. There’s no need to waste time over visualising him, because you are immediately going on to the reality.”

“What I said about the windows also applies to Surtur. There’s no need to waste time picturing him, because you’re going straight to the reality.”

“Then let us go.” He pressed his eyeballs wearily.

“Then let’s go.” He pressed his eyeballs tiredly.

“Do we strip?” asked Nightspore.

“Do we take off our clothes?” asked Nightspore.

“Naturally,” answered Krag, and he began to tear off his clothes with slow, uncouth movements.

“Of course,” Krag replied, and began tearing off his clothes with slow, awkward movements.

“Why?” demanded Maskull, following, however, the example of the other two men.

“Why?” demanded Maskull. Nevertheless, he followed the other two men’s example.

Krag thumped his vast chest, which was covered with thick hairs, like an ape’s. “Who knows what the Tormance fashions are like? We may sprout limbs—I don’t say we shall.”

Krag thumped his huge chest, which was covered in thick hair like an ape’s. “Who knows what the fashions on Tormance are like? We may sprout limbs. I’m not saying we will.”

“A-ha!” exclaimed Maskull, pausing in the middle of his undressing.

“A-ha!” Maskull exclaimed, stopping halfway through undressing.

Krag smote him on the back. “New pleasure organs possible, Maskull. You like that?”

Krag struck him on the back. “New pleasure organs are possible, Maskull. Do you like that?”

The three men stood as nature made them. Maskull’s spirits rose fast, as the moment of departure drew near.

The three men stood naked. Maskull’s spirits rose quickly as the moment of departure drew near.

“A farewell drink to success!” cried Krag, seizing a bottle and breaking its head off between his fingers. There were no glasses, but he poured the amber-coloured wine into some cracked cups.

“A farewell drink to success!” cried Krag. He grabbed a bottle and broke its top off between his fingers. There were no glasses, but he poured the amber-colored wine into some cracked cups.

Perceiving that the others drank, Maskull tossed off his cupful. It was as if he had swallowed a draught of liquid electricity.... Krag dropped onto the floor and rolled around on his back, kicking his legs in the air. He tried to drag Maskull down on top of him, and a little horseplay went on between the two. Nightspore took no part in it, but walked to and fro, like a hungry caged animal.

Seeing the others drink, Maskull drank his cup in one gulp. It was as if he had swallowed liquid electricity.... Krag dropped to the floor and rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air. He tried to pull Maskull down on top of him, and the two played around a little. Nightspore took no part in the play. Instead, he paced back and forth like a hungry caged animal.

Suddenly, from out-of-doors, there came a single prolonged, piercing wail, such as a banshee might be imagined to utter. It ceased abruptly, and was not repeated.

Suddenly, a single, long, piercing wail came from outside, like one a banshee might make. It stopped abruptly and did not come again.

“What’s that?” called out Maskull, disengaging himself impatiently from Krag.

“What’s that?” Maskull called out, impatiently pulling away from Krag.

Krag rocked with laughter. “A Scottish spirit trying to reproduce the bagpipes of its earth life—in honour of our departure.”

Krag rocked with laughter. “A Scottish spirit trying to play the bagpipes it played in its life on Earth, in honor of our departure.”

Nightspore turned to Krag. “Maskull will sleep throughout the journey?”

Nightspore turned to Krag. “Will Maskull sleep through the whole journey?”

“And you too, if you wish, my altruistic friend. I am pilot, and you passengers can amuse yourselves as you please.”

“And you too, if you want, my selfless friend. I’m the pilot, and you passengers can entertain yourselves however you like.”

“Are we off at last?” asked Maskull.

“Are we finally leaving?” asked Maskull.

“Yes, you are about to cross your Rubicon, Maskull. But what a Rubicon!... Do you know that it takes light a hundred years or so to arrive here from Arcturus? Yet we shall do it in nineteen hours.”

“Yes, you’re about to cross your Rubicon, Maskull. But what a Rubicon!... Did you know that light takes about a hundred years to reach here from Arcturus? Yet we’ll make the journey in nineteen hours.”

“Then you assert that Surtur is already there?”

“So you say that Surtur is already there?”

“Surtur is where he is. He is a great traveller.”

“Surtur is where he is. He travels a great deal.”

“Won’t I see him?”

Krag went up to him and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t forget that you have asked for it, and wanted it. Few people in Tormance will know more about him than you do, but your memory will be your worst friend.”

Krag walked up to him and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t forget that you asked for it and wanted it. Few people in Tormance will know more about him than you do. But your memory will be your worst friend.”

He led the way up a short iron ladder, mounting through a trap to the flat roof above. When they were up, he switched on a small electric torch.

He led the way up a short iron ladder and through a trapdoor onto the flat roof. Once they were up, he switched on a small flashlight.

Maskull beheld with awe the torpedo of crystal that was to convey them through the whole breadth of visible space. It was forty feet long, eight wide, and eight high; the tank containing the Arcturian back rays was in front, the car behind. The nose of the torpedo was directed toward the south-eastern sky. The whole machine rested upon a flat platform, raised about four feet above the level of the roof, so as to encounter no obstruction on starting its flight.

Maskull gazed in awe at the crystal torpedo that would carry them across the whole breadth of visible space. It was forty feet long, eight feet wide, and eight feet high. The tank containing the Arcturian back rays was in front, with the car behind it. The torpedo’s nose pointed toward the southeastern sky. The whole machine rested on a flat platform raised about four feet above the roof. This would prevent anything from obstructing it as it began its flight.

Krag flashed the light on to the door of the car, to enable them to enter. Before doing so, Maskull gazed sternly once again at the gigantic, far-distant star, which was to be their sun from now onward. He frowned, shivered slightly, and got in beside Nightspore. Krag clambered past them onto his pilot’s seat. He threw the flashlight through the open door, which was then carefully closed, fastened, and screwed up.

Krag shone the flashlight on the car door so they could get in. Before entering, Maskull again stared sternly at the enormous, distant star. From now on, it would be their sun. He frowned, shivered slightly, and got in beside Nightspore. Krag climbed past them into the pilot’s seat. He threw the flashlight through the open door. The door was then carefully closed, fastened, and screwed shut.

He pulled the starting lever. The torpedo glided gently from its platform, and passed rather slowly away from the tower, seaward. Its speed increased sensibly, though not excessively, until the approximate limits of the earth’s atmosphere were reached. Krag then released the speed valve, and the car sped on its way with a velocity more nearly approaching that of thought than of light.

He pulled the starting lever. The torpedo glided gently from its platform and moved rather slowly away from the tower, toward the sea. Its speed increased noticeably, though not excessively, until it reached the approximate edge of Earth’s atmosphere. Krag then released the speed valve. The car sped onward, moving at a speed closer to that of thought than of light.

Maskull had no opportunity of examining through the crystal walls the rapidly changing panorama of the heavens. An extreme drowsiness oppressed him. He opened his eyes violently a dozen times, but on the thirteenth attempt he failed. From that time forward he slept heavily.

Maskull had no chance to watch the rapidly changing view of the heavens through the crystal walls. He was overcome by extreme drowsiness. He forced his eyes open a dozen times, but failed on the thirteenth attempt. From then on, he slept deeply.

The bored, hungry expression never left Nightspore’s face. The alterations in the aspect of the sky seemed to possess not the least interest for him.

The bored, hungry expression never left Nightspore’s face. The changes in the sky seemed to hold no interest for him.

Krag sat with his hand on the lever, watching with savage intentness his phosphorescent charts and gauges.

Krag sat with his hand on the lever, watching his glowing charts and gauges with fierce intensity.