Dick Donovan

The Sunless City

Warsaw 2022

Contents

I. THE LAKE OF MYSTERY

II. FLIN FLON'S FISH

III. THE START

IV. A SUBTERRANEAN RIVER

V. A PETRIFIED FOREST

VI. THE HALL OF JEWELS

VII. FLIN FLON HAS A STRANGE DREAM

VIII. A TERRIBLE PREDICAMENT

IX. FLIN FLON SUFFERS A SERIOUS LOSS

X. THE WATERS OF FIRE

XI. THE SEA OF ECHOES

XII. AN ELECTRIC STORM

XIII. THE VALLEY OF GOLD

XIV. KING GUBMUH

XV. DIFFERENCES OF OPINION

XVI. IT IS NOT ALWAYS PLEASANT TO KNOW WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK ABOUT US

XVII. DR. YREKCAUQ DELIVERS AN ADDRESS

XVIII. SOFT SOAP

XIX. THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS YOBMOT

XX. AN ARTFUL LITTLE PUSS

XXI. THERE IS NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN

XXII. THIS CHAPTER, THOUGH NOT TO THE POINT, IS POINTED

XXIII. A PLEASANT SOCIETY

XXIV. MRS. HAS A LITTLE GRIEVANCE

XXV. IN WHICH SOME SUBJECTS OF INTEREST ARE DISCUSSED

XXVI. MR. FLONATIN SHOWS MORE VALOUR THAN DISCRETION AND GETS INTO TROUBLE

XXVII. RED TAPEISM

XXVIII. THE TRIAL

XXIX. HTURTEHTERAPS SCORES A TRIUMPH

XXX. FLIN TAKES A BOLD STEP

XXXI. ESNESNON CUSTOMS

XXXII. A JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY

XXXIII. SAD END OF A LADY WHO KEPT A SECRET

XXXIV. THE CONSPIRACY PROGRESSES

XXXV. THE STRUGGLE FOR FREEDOM

XXXVI. FLIN'S RETURN AND RECEPTION

“Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.”

I. THE LAKE OF MYSTERY

IN one of the loneliest and most inaccessible parts of the Rocky Mountains of America is situated a strange lake or tarn.

The lake lies “silent, still and mysterious in the bosom of the everlasting mountains, like a gigantic well scooped out by the hands of genii.”

There is no herbage; no animal life on its shores or in its depths. The unbroken stillness of death reigns there.

For generations learned and scientific men puzzled their heads about this mysterious sheet of water which takes all in, but apparently lets nothing out, for there is no known outlet by which the water can flow away, and owing to its peculiar situation the evaporation is very trifling, as the sun’s rays seldom pierce the gloomy depths. Some stated that it was the crater of an extinct volcano, and that fissures in the mountains carried off the surplus waters, to discharge them again either in the sea or some other lake. Again, it was argued that a huge cavern was the escape valve, and a subterranean river was the solution of the problem; while another theory was that the rocks were peculiarly porous, and absorbed the water, which issued from the earth again in the form of springs many miles away.

It will thus be seen that it was the debatable ground for savants in various parts of the world. Philosophers with the whole alphabet of letters after their names advanced theories which were immediately denounced as “bosh” by other philosophers, who claimed the right to put a string of capitals after their names also. Stormy discussions, distressingly clever papers, and huge volumes of learned writing were the result of this natural problem. While the wiseacres, however, were thus squabbling about the correctness of the various theories advanced, a certain gentleman was seeking for a more practical solution of the mystery.

Josiah Flintabbatey Flonatin, Esq., or, as he was more familiarly known amongst his fellows, “Flin Flon,” was a gentleman conspicuous for two things–the smallness of his stature and the largeness of his perception. His origin was lost in the mists of antiquity, but he boasted that he was a descendant of the noble Italian family of the Flonatins, for centuries resident in the ancient city of Bologna, who were conspicuous for their learning and power during the Middle Ages. Being unfortunate enough to espouse an unpopular cause during a revolution they were stripped of their power, deprived of their wealth, and banished, many of them dying in exile and poverty. Possibly, if his pedigree had been traced, the statement might have been proved correct, but it is sufficient for the purposes of this veracious history to say that at this time Flin Flon was a grocer in a small way of business. In recording the fact I hope it will not be thought that a slight is intended upon the memory of a great man. Flin Flon could not help being a grocer. His father and grandfather before him had been in the same line–or, as they were pleased to term it, “profession”–and the business had been handed down from father to son through several generations. But that was in the good old times when men did not trouble themselves about the abstruse sciences or the laws of unknown quantities. And when, instead of attempting to soar into regions of speculation about the mysteries of the universe, they were content to smoke the pipe of peace in the cosy chimney corners of the country inns.

The business to which Flin had succeeded on his father’s death was a snug little concern. There was a very profitable cheesemongery and bacon trade in connection with it, chiefly amongst country families, who wanted long credit but were content to pay a big price for the accommodation. And it was said that the profits on this branch of the trade were as much as eighty and ninety per cent.

Such paltry profits were scarcely worthy the consideration of a philosophic mind. At any rate one thing is tolerably clear, Josiah Flintabbatey Flonatin began to neglect his business and to frequent debating and other learned societies. Some ill natured persons said that this was owing to a “disappointment.” They hinted at an engagement between Flin and a buxom widow, who proved false to her plighted troth and married a very worldly farmer, her excuse being that she thought Flin Flon was a “little cracked.” This perhaps was a malicious scandal.

It may very safely be inferred, however, that the true cause of the good man’s disgust for his progenitor’s grocery business arose from the fact that he had a soul above sugar and spice, and cheese and bacon. No disparagement to the trade in these excellent commodities is meant by this remark. Flin Flon was born to do great deeds, to become a hero whose name should pass with honour.

“Down the ringing grooves of time."

At least this is what he told his friends. He was desirous of living in the memory of men, and being intellectual he was destined to make his way in the world, which he succeeded in doing in a very remarkable manner, as will be hereafter seen. In fact no man before or since has ever made his way in the world in such an extraordinary fashion.

Flin laboured hard for the advancement of science, and when but a young man he became a Fellow of the “Society for the Exploration of Unknown Regions,” and it was with no small degree of pride that he placed after his name the imposing array of capitals, F.S.E.U.R., and was always particularly careful to write them boldly, so that the possibility of their being overlooked or mistaken was out of the question.

Flin’s election to this ancient and learned body was a very distinguished honour, and was a fitting tribute to the man’s great genius. There were a few of the members who vigorously opposed his election, on the grounds that to admit a “common grocer” into their Society was to bring them into disrepute. But it is gratifying to be able to say that this opposing faction represented but a paltry minority, and the subsequent and glorious achievements of the immortal Flonatin covered his enemies with shame and confusion, so that they were glad to hide their diminished heads in obscurity.

In personal appearance Flin Flon was as singular as his name. When Nature constructed him she must have suddenly run short of materials, because she commenced a head that would have done credit to a giant in stature as well as intellect. But getting as far as the neck the old dame found apparently she had made a mistake, so finished him off hurriedly. From the neck downwards he was strangely disproportioned and very scanty.

He had pendulum-like arms; a body that might have been taken for a section of a fourteen-inch gaspipe, and legs that may not inaptly be described as corkscrews.

He was bald–almost perfectly bald. But then all intellectual men are bald.

Another infallible sign that Flin was possessed of extraordinary brain power, was that he always wore spectacles. He was never known to be without them, although his eyes did not indicate that he was troubled with either long sight or short sight. On the contrary, judging from their keenness and brilliancy, it might be said, to use a very common metaphor, that they were quite capable of seeing through a millstone. But then clever men always do wear spectacles.

His nose was large, exceedingly large, and it was rather conspicuously red.

His face was somewhat long and thoughtful. Near the right-hand corner of the mouth was a mole, from which sprang a few silver hairs, and under the left eye was a tiny pimple.

In age Flin Flon was nearly forty when he undertook the astounding journey which has immortalised him.

He had many virtues and a few vices, and one of the latter was an inordinate love of snuff.

Whatever pride of birth Flin had, he certainly had no pride of personal appearance. But is not this another sure and certain sign of genius? Slovenliness and cleverness go together.

Tightly-fitting smalls and an old faded green coat closely buttoned up to the chin were Flin’s invariable costume. And when out he wore a broadbrimmed hat, which set off his genial and intelligent face to advantage.

It happened that amongst the hundred and one things that Flin Flon interested himself in was the mystery of the strange tarn away in the Rocky Mountains, and on one occasion he had had the boldness to organise a little band of daring adventurers who started on an expedition to examine the lake by means of a boat, and report thereon. The boat was the great difficulty, for not only were there no roads, but the water could only be reached by means of a tortuous and dangerous way down the jagged ledges of rock near the waterfall. But with the enterprise and determination so characteristic of the man, Flin Flon had a small boat constructed in sections, and conveying these by rail to the nearest point, he engaged the services of a party of friendly Indians, and by their aid the boat was safely launched on the bosom of the dark waters, and thus the lake was thoroughly explored.

When the adventurous voyagers found themselves afloat, it was impossible to suppress a shudder. Far above them the sky could be seen like a little square patch of blue. A weird gloom pervaded the place, and the air was cold and damp. Not a blade of grass, not an herb of any description could be seen, and the voyagers proved that there was no life in the water, for every means were tried to catch fish, but there were no fish there, and microscopical examination revealed the fact that there was not a trace of animalculae. Round and round the mysterious lake the boat was pulled, but no outlet for the water could be discovered. What then becomes of the surplus? was the question these savants asked one of another, but the answer was not forthcoming. Flin Flon was silent on the subject. He offered no remark, he suggested no theory. But in his great brain a thought was taking shape, that when the time came to clothe it in words was destined to startle the world. Soundings were tried for. A hundred fathoms of line were let out. Then two, three hundred, a thousand fathoms, and when two thousand fathoms were gone one and all cried, “Alas! the lake is bottomless.”

The expedition having resulted in no scientific or geographical discovery, the learned “Fellows” were compelled to return, having first named the place Lake Avernus. At the first meeting, after the return of the adventures, of the “Society for the Exploration of Unknown Regions,” the public flocked in hundreds, so anxious were they to have some account of the tarn which had puzzled the learned and the scientific for generations. But great was the disappointment when it became known that the combined intellect of the members of the expedition had not been able to solve the problem, and that the mystery was as much a mystery as ever.

The Society’s great hall in New York, where this meeting was held, was packed from floor to ceiling with a brilliant assemblage of the most learned geographers, professors, and scientists that the world could produce, and they were not slow to express their sorrow when they learnt that the object of the expedition had not been attained.

There was one of the members who had as yet made no observations, though it was notified on the Society’s programme that this gentleman would read a paper on “Lake Avernus and its probable outlet.” The gentleman was Flin Flon, and his rising was eagerly looked for, as something good was always expected from him, while his wonderful intuitive perception enabled him to arrive at theoretical conclusions which were often startlingly accurate.

It was late in the evening when the Chairman, in an appropriate and neat speech, introduced Josiah Flintabbatey Flonatin, Esq., to the notice of the meeting, alluding in graceful terms to the great benefits this gentleman had already conferred upon the scientific world by his energy, determination and wonderful powers of intellect. And he (the Chairman) felt quite sure that the meeting would listen with eager interest to the paper Mr Flonatin would now have the honour of reading.

The meeting fully endorsed the Chairman’s flattering remarks by a storm of applause that did not subside for some minutes.

Then the great Flin Flon arose, calm, dignified and grave. By the chair beside him reposed his large gingham umbrella, and in Josiah’s hand rested a huge gold snuffbox, bearing an elaborate inscription, setting forth that the box had been presented to the present owner by “a circle of friends in acknowledgment of the great services rendered to science by Josiah Flintabbatey Flonatin, Esq., and as a token of respect for one whose wisdom and rare intellectual gifts, combined with largeness of heart and the kindest of natures, have won him troops of friends.”

When the meeting had settled into silence again, and Flin Flon had refreshed himself with sundry pinches of the fragrant dust from the gold box, he straightened the wrinkles out of the green coat that was tightly buttoned round his gas-pipe like body, and with two or three swings of his pendulum arms, as if thereby he set the vocal machinery in motion, he commenced his “paper,” having first placed his much-prized umbrella on the little table before him.

“Mr President, learned Fellows, and ladies and gentlemen,–I have the distinguished honour of appearing before you to-night as a member of this ancient Society, but I must also add with regret as a representative of the expedition to Lake Avernus, whose mission has entirely failed practically.”

“In dealing with the subject in hand it will be necessary for me to digress somewhat, but I respectfully claim your indulgence on this point, and hope that what I have to say will not altogether be uninteresting.”

“It is a well-known fact, ladies and gentlemen, that we live upon a globe; that is, on the external crust of a huge ball. There is one thing which science has proved beyond all doubt, and that is, that this ball is not solid but hollow. Now the capacity of that hollow must almost be beyond comprehension. From time immemorial it has been supposed that the hollow is filled with seething fire and molten lava. I say supposed, because it is only a supposition. But I boldly denounce the theory of internal fire as incorrect. I say science has been at fault. Central heat is a delusion unworthy of the consideration of great men. And now having demolished the monstrous and ancient fable with one blow, I have a theory of my own to advance that will startle you. I know it will, but I cannot help it. Nay, it is more than a theory, it is a conviction; and I say that in the centre of the earth are subterranean rivers and buried seas; more than that, ladies and gentlemen, I go so far as to say that the interior of the earth is as likely to be inhabited as the exterior.”

Flin Flon paused. He took snuff excitedly. His audience, however, remained silent. The daring proposition had awed them.

“To resume.”

“By the light of science it has further been revealed to us that the crust of the earth upon which we stand in no part attains a greater thickness than fifteen miles; and it is stated as a scientific truth that if we could dig down to that depth, and break through the inner surface of the crust, we should come to fire. I assert that that is a monstrously absurd theory; that we should do nothing of the kind, but that we should break in upon a new world, a new race of beings. That we should find a land of beauty and fertility; that we should find rivers, seas, mountains and valleys. The inequalities of the bottoms of our valleys will form mountains there; and our mountains will be their seas. Like unto a pudding-mould, whereon the fruit and flowers are convex on one side and concave on the other.”

Flin Flon had worked himself into a state of enthusiasm and excitement, and as he gave utterance to the clever simile he caught up his favourite umbrella, and with a wild flourish brought it down again on to the table, shivering the water decanter to atoms, and just shaving by a hair’s breadth the nose of the President, which was rather a large one.

This was the signal for a burst of applause from the audience, that was mingled with loud shouts of disapproval. The excitement was intense. The densely packed masses of people rose and swayed backwards and forwards. Some few persons cried out,–

“No, no.”

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