SATURDAY noon I went to the
well and looked on a while. Merlin
was still burning smoke-powders,
and pawing the air, and muttering gibberish as hard as
ever, but looking pretty down-hearted, for of course
he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet.
Finally I said:
"How does the
thing promise by this time,
partner?"
"Behold, I
am even now busied with trial
of the powerfulest
enchantment known to the princes
of the occult arts in the lands
of the East; an it fail me, naught
can avail. Peace, until I finish."
He raised a smoke this time
that darkened all the region,
and must have made matters uncomfortable
for the hermits, for the wind
was their way, and it rolled
down over their dens in a dense
and billowy fog. He poured out
volumes of speech to match, and
contorted his body and sawed
the air with his hands in a most
extraordinary way. At the end
of twenty minutes he dropped
down panting, and about exhausted.
Now arrived the abbot and several
hundred monks and nuns, and behind
them a multitude of pilgrims
and a couple of acres of foundlings,
all drawn by the prodigious smoke,
and all in a grand state of excitement.
The abbot inquired anxiously
for results. Merlin said:
"If any labor
of mortal might break the spell
that binds these
waters, this which I have but
just essayed had done it. It
has failed; whereby I do now
know that that which I had feared
is a truth established; the sign
of this failure is, that the
most potent spirit known to the
magicians of the East, and whose
name none may utter and live,
has laid his spell upon this
well. The mortal does not breathe,
nor ever will, who can penetrate
the secret of that spell, and
without that secret none can
break it. The water will flow
no more forever, good Father.
I have done what man could. Suffer
me to go."
Of course this threw the abbot
into a good deal of a consternation.
He turned to me with the signs
of it in his face, and said:
"Ye have heard
him. Is it true?"
"Part of it
is."
"Not all, then,
not all! What part is true?"
"That that
spirit with the Russian name
has put his spell
upon the well."
"God's wownds,
then are we ruined!"
"Possibly."
"But not certainly?
Ye mean, not certainly?"
"That is it."
"Wherefore,
ye also mean that when he saith
none can break
the spell --"
"Yes, when
he says that, he says what
isn't necessarily true.
There are conditions under which
an effort to break it may have
some chance -- that is, some
small, some trifling chance --
of success."
"The conditions
--"
"Oh, they are
nothing difficult. Only these:
I want the well and
the surroundings for the space
of half a mile, entirely to myself
from sunset to-day until I remove
the ban -- and nobody allowed
to cross the ground but by my
authority."
"Are these
all?"
"Yes."
"And you have
no fear to try?"
"Oh, none.
One may fail, of course; and
one may also succeed.
One can try, and I am ready to
chance it. I have my conditions?"
"These and
all others ye may name. I will
issue commandment
to that effect."
"Wait," said Merlin, with an
evil smile. "Ye wit that he that
would break this spell must know
that spirit's name?"
"Yes, I know
his name."
"And wit you
also that to know it skills
not of itself, but
ye must likewise pronounce it?
Ha-ha! Knew ye that?"
"Yes, I knew
that, too."
"You had that
knowledge! Art a fool? Are
ye minded to utter
that name and die?"
"Utter it?
Why certainly. I would utter
it if it was Welsh."
"Ye are even
a dead man, then; and I go
to tell Arthur."
"That's all
right. Take your gripsack and
get along. The thing
for YOU to do is to go home and
work the weather, John W. Merlin."
It was a home shot, and it
made him wince; for he was the
worst weather-failure in the
kingdom. Whenever he ordered
up the danger-signals along the
coast there was a week's dead
calm, sure, and every time he
prophesied fair weather it rained
brickbats. But I kept him in
the weather bureau right along,
to undermine his reputation.
However, that shot raised his
bile, and instead of starting
home to report my death, he said
he would remain and enjoy it.
My two experts arrived in the
evening, and pretty well fagged,
for they had traveled double
tides. They had pack-mules along,
and had brought everything I
needed -- tools, pump, lead pipe,
Greek fire, sheaves of big rockets,
roman candles, colored fire sprays,
electric apparatus, and a lot
of sundries -- everything necessary
for the stateliest kind of a
miracle. They got their supper
and a nap, and about midnight
we sallied out through a solitude
so wholly vacant and complete
that it quite overpassed the
required conditions. We took
possession of the well and its
surroundings. My boys were experts
in all sorts of things, from
the stoning up of a well to the
constructing of a mathematical
instrument. An hour before sunrise
we had that leak mended in ship-shape
fashion, and the water began
to rise. Then we stowed our fireworks
in the chapel, locked up the
place, and went home to bed.
Before the noon mass was over,
we were at the well again; for
there was a deal to do yet, and
I was determined to spring the
miracle before midnight, for
business reasons: for whereas
a miracle worked for the Church
on a week-day is worth a good
deal, it is worth six times as
much if you get it in on a Sunday.
In nine hours the water had risen
to its customary level -- that
is to say, it was within twenty-three
feet of the top. We put in a
little iron pump, one of the
first turned out by my works
near the capital; we bored into
a stone reservoir which stood
against the outer wall of the
well-chamber and inserted a section
of lead pipe that was long enough
to reach to the door of the chapel
and project beyond the threshold,
where the gushing water would
be visible to the two hundred
and fifty acres of people I was
intending should be present on
the flat plain in front of this
little holy hillock at the proper
time.
We knocked the head out of
an empty hogshead and hoisted
this hogshead to the flat roof
of the chapel, where we clamped
it down fast, poured in gunpowder
till it lay loosely an inch deep
on the bottom, then we stood
up rockets in the hogshead as
thick as they could loosely stand,
all the different breeds of rockets
there are; and they made a portly
and imposing sheaf, I can tell
you. We grounded the wire of
a pocket electrical battery in
that powder, we placed a whole
magazine of Greek fire on each
corner of the roof -- blue on
one corner, green on another,
red on another, and purple on
the last -- and grounded a wire
in each.
About two hundred yards off,
in the flat, we built a pen of
scantlings, about four feet high,
and laid planks on it, and so
made a platform. We covered it
with swell tapestries borrowed
for the occasion, and topped
it off with the abbot's own throne.
When you are going to do a miracle
for an ignorant race, you want
to get in every detail that will
count; you want to make all the
properties impressive to the
public eye; you want to make
matters comfortable for your
head guest; then you can turn
yourself loose and play your
effects for all they are worth.
I know the value of these things,
for I know human nature. You
can't throw too much style into
a miracle. It costs trouble,
and work, and sometimes money;
but it pays in the end. Well,
we brought the wires to the ground
at the chapel, and then brought
them under the ground to the
platform, and hid the batteries
there. We put a rope fence a
hundred feet square around the
platform to keep off the common
multitude, and that finished
the work. My idea was, doors
open at 10:30, performance to
begin at 11:25 sharp. I wished
I could charge admission, but
of course that wouldn't answer.
I instructed my boys to be in
the chapel as early as 10, before
anybody was around, and be ready
to man the pumps at the proper
time, and make the fur fly. Then
we went home to supper.
The news of the disaster to
the well had traveled far by
this time; and now for two or
three days a steady avalanche
of people had been pouring into
the valley. The lower end of
the valley was become one huge
camp; we should have a good house,
no question about that. Criers
went the rounds early in the
evening and announced the coming
attempt, which put every pulse
up to fever heat. They gave notice
that the abbot and his official
suite would move in state and
occupy the platform at 10:30,
up to which time all the region
which was under my ban must be
clear; the bells would then cease
from tolling, and this sign should
be permission to the multitudes
to close in and take their places.
I was at the platform and all
ready to do the honors when the
abbot's solemn procession hove
in sight -- which it did not
do till it was nearly to the
rope fence, because it was a
starless black night and no torches
permitted. With it came Merlin,
and took a front seat on the
platform; he was as good as his
word for once. One could not
see the multitudes banked together
beyond the ban, but they were
there, just the same. The moment
the bells stopped, those banked
masses broke and poured over
the line like a vast black wave,
and for as much as a half hour
it continued to flow, and then
it solidified itself, and you
could have walked upon a pavement
of human heads to -- well, miles.
We had a solemn stage-wait,
now, for about twenty minutes
-- a thing I had counted on for
effect; it is always good to
let your audience have a chance
to work up its expectancy. At
length, out of the silence a
noble Latin chant -- men's voices
-- broke and swelled up and rolled
away into the night, a majestic
tide of melody. I had put that
up, too, and it was one of the
best effects I ever invented.
When it was finished I stood
up on the platform and extended
my hands abroad, for two minutes,
with my face uplifted -- that
always produces a dead hush --
and then slowly pronounced this
ghastly word with a kind of awfulness
which caused hundreds to tremble,
and many women to faint:
"Constantinopolitanischerdudelsackspfeifenmachersgesellschafft!"
Just as I was moaning out the
closing hunks of that word, I
touched off one of my electric
connections and all that murky
world of people stood revealed
in a hideous blue glare! It was
immense -- that effect! Lots
of people shrieked, women curled
up and quit in every direction,
foundlings collapsed by platoons.
The abbot and the monks crossed
themselves nimbly and their lips
fluttered with agitated prayers.
Merlin held his grip, but he
was astonished clear down to
his corns; he had never seen
anything to begin with that,
before. Now was the time to pile
in the effects. I lifted my hands
and groaned out this word --
as it were in agony:
"Nihilistendynamittheaterkaestchens
sprengungsattentaetsversuchungen!"
-- and turned on the red fire!
You should have heard that Atlantic
of people moan and howl when
that crimson hell joined the
blue! After sixty seconds I shouted:
"Transvaaltruppentropentransport
trampelthiertreibertrauungsthraenentragoedie!"
-- and lit up the green fire!
After waiting only forty seconds
this time, I spread my arms abroad
and thundered out the devastating
syllables of this word of words:
"Mekkamuselmannenmassenmenchenmoer
dermohrenmuttermarmormonumentenmacher!"
-- and whirled on the purple
glare! There they were, all going
at once, red, blue, green, purple!
-- four furious volcanoes pouring
vast clouds of radiant smoke
aloft, and spreading a blinding
rainbowed noonday to the furthest
confines of that valley. In the
distance one could see that fellow
on the pillar standing rigid
against the background of sky,
his seesaw stopped for the first
time in twenty years. I knew
the boys were at the pump now
and ready. So I said to the abbot:
"The time is come, Father.
I am about to pronounce the dread
name and command the spell to
dissolve. You want to brace up,
and take hold of something." Then
I shouted to the people: "Behold,
in another minute the spell will
be broken, or no mortal can break
it. If it break, all will know
it, for you will see the sacred
water gush from the chapel door!"
I stood a few moments, to let
the hearers have a chance to
spread my announcement to those
who couldn't hear, and so convey
it to the furthest ranks, then
I made a grand exhibition of
extra posturing and gesturing,
and shouted:
"Lo, I command
the fell spirit that possesses
the holy fountain
to now disgorge into the skies
all the infernal fires that still
remain in him, and straightway
dissolve his spell and flee hence
to the pit, there to lie bound
a thousand years. By his own
dread name I command it -- BGWJJILLIGKKK!"
Then I touched off the hogshead
of rockets, and a vast fountain
of dazzling lances of fire vomited
itself toward the zenith with
a hissing rush, and burst in
mid-sky into a storm of flashing
jewels! One mighty groan of terror
started up from the massed people
-- then suddenly broke into a
wild hosannah of joy -- for there,
fair and plain in the uncanny
glare, they saw the freed water
leaping forth! The old abbot
could not speak a word, for tears
and the chokings in his throat;
without utterance of any sort,
he folded me in his arms and
mashed me. It was more eloquent
than speech. And harder to get
over, too, in a country where
there were really no doctors
that were worth a damaged nickel.
You should have seen those
acres of people throw themselves
down in that water and kiss it;
kiss it, and pet it, and fondle
it, and talk to it as if it were
alive, and welcome it back with
the dear names they gave their
darlings, just as if it had been
a friend who was long gone away
and lost, and was come home again.
Yes, it was pretty to see, and
made me think more of them than
I had done before.
I sent Merlin home on a shutter.
He had caved in and gone down
like a landslide when I pronounced
that fearful name, and had never
come to since. He never had heard
that name before, -- neither
had I -- but to him it was the
right one. Any jumble would have
been the right one. He admitted,
afterward, that that spirit's
own mother could not have pronounced
that name better than I did.
He never could understand how
I survived it, and I didn't tell
him. It is only young magicians
that give away a secret like
that. Merlin spent three months
working enchantments to try to
find out the deep trick of how
to pronounce that name and outlive
it. But he didn't arrive.
When I started to the chapel,
the populace uncovered and fell
back reverently to make a wide
way for me, as if I had been
some kind of a superior being
-- and I was. I was aware of
that. I took along a night shift
of monks, and taught them the
mystery of the pump, and set
them to work, for it was plain
that a good part of the people
out there were going to sit up
with the water all night, consequently
it was but right that they should
have all they wanted of it. To
those monks that pump was a good
deal of a miracle itself, and
they were full of wonder over
it; and of admiration, too, of
the exceeding effectiveness of
its performance.
It was a great night, an immense
night. There was reputation in
it. I could hardly get to sleep
for glorying over it.
|