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Allan Quatermain-Part19_H.Rider Haggard(1856-1925)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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embers, and I fancy undergoing very much the same sensations

that the poor fish do when they are dying on land -- namely,



that of slow suffocation. Our skins began to crack, and the

blood to throb in our heads like the beating of a steam-engine.



This had been going on for some time, when suddenly the river

turned a little, and I heard Sir Henry call out from the bows



in a hoarse, startled voice, and, looking up, saw a most wonderful

and awful thing. About half a mile ahead of us, and a little



to the left of the centre of the stream -- which we could now

see was about ninety feet broad -- a huge pillar-like jet of



almost white flame rose from the surface of the water and sprang

fifty feet into the air, when it struck the roof and spread out



some forty feet in diameter, falling back in curved sheets of

fire shaped like the petals of a full-blown rose. Indeed this



awful gas jet resembled nothing so much as a great flaming flower

rising out of the black water. Below was the straight stalk,



a foot or more thick, and above the dreadful bloom. And as for

the fearfulness of it and its fierce and awesome beauty, who



can describe it? Certainly I cannot. Although we were now some

five hundred yards away, it, notwithstanding the steam, lit up



the whole cavern as clear as day, and we could see that the roof

was here about forty feet above us, and washed perfectly smooth



with water. The rock was black, and here and there I could make

out long shining lines of ore running through it like great veins,



but of what metal they were I know not.

On we rushed towards this pillar of fire, which gleamed fiercer



than any furnace ever lit by man.

'Keep the boat to the right, Quatermain -- to the right,' shouted



Sir Henry, and a minute afterwards I saw him fall forward senseless.

Alphonse had already gone. Good was the next to go. There



they lay as though dead; only Umslopogaas and I kept our senses.

We were within fifty yards of it now, and I saw the Zulu's head



fall forward on his hands. He had gone too, and I was alone.

I could not breathe; the fierce heat dried me up. For yards



and yards round the great rose of fire the rock-roof was red-hot.

The wood of the boat was almost burning. I saw the feathers



on one of the dead swans begin to twist and shrivel up; but I

would not give in. I knew that if I did we should pass within



three or four yards of the gas jet and perishmiserably. I set

the paddle so as to turn the canoe as far from it as possible,



and held on grimly.

My eyes seemed to be bursting from my head, and through my closed



lids I could see the fierce light. We were nearly opposite now;

it roared like all the fires of hell, and the water boiled furiously



around it. Five seconds more. We were past; I heard the roar

behind me.



Then I too fell senseless. The next thing that I recollect is

feeling a breath of air upon my face. My eyes opened with great



difficulty. I looked up. Far, far above me there was light,

though around me was great gloom. Then I remembered and looked.



The canoe still floated down the river, and in the bottom of

it lay the naked forms of my companions. 'Were they dead?' I



wondered. 'Was I left alone in this awful place?' I knew not.

Next I became conscious of a burning thirst. I put my hand



over the edge of the boat into the water and drew it up again

with a cry. No wonder: nearly all the skin was burnt off the



back of it. The water, however, was cold, or nearly so, and

I drank pints and splashed myself all over. My body seemed to



suck up the fluid as one may see a brick wall suck up rain after

a drought; but where I was burnt the touch of it caused intense



pain. Then I bethought myself of the others, and, dragging myself

towards them with difficulty, I sprinkled them with water, and



to my joy they began to recover -- Umslopogaas first, then the

others. Next they drank, absorbing water like so many sponges.



Then, feeling chilly -- a queer contrast to our recent sensations

-- we began as best we could to get into our clothes. As we



did so Good pointed to the port side of the canoe: it was all

blistered with heat, and in places actually charred. Had it



been built like our civilized boats, Good said that the planks

would certainly have warped and let in enough water to sink us;



but fortunately it was dug out of the soft, willowy wood of a

single great tree, and had sides nearly three inches and a bottom



four inches thick. What that awful flame was we never discovered,

but I suppose that there was at this spot a crack or hole in






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