The Greatest Works of E. Nesbit (220+ Titles in One Illustrated Edition). Эдит Несбит
were going to happen to us, it’s my belief those Lemmings would know; and that may be why they’ve fought shy of us.’
‘What do you call this country?’ asked the Psammead, suddenly putting its head out of its bag.
‘Atlantis,’ said the priest.
‘Then I advise you to get on to the highest ground you can find. I remember hearing something about a flood here. Look here, you’ – it turned to Anthea; ‘let’s get home. The prospect’s too wet for my whiskers.’
The girls obediently went to find their brothers, who were leaning on the balcony railings.
‘Where’s the learned gentleman?’ asked Anthea.
‘There he is – below,’ said the priest, who had come with them. ‘Your High Ji-jimmy is with the Kings.’
The ten Kings were no longer alone. The learned gentleman – no one had noticed how he got there – stood with them on the steps of an altar, on which lay the dead body of the black bull. All the rest of the courtyard was thick with people, seemingly of all classes, and all were shouting, ‘The sea – the sea!’
‘Be calm,’ said the most kingly of the Kings, he who had lassoed the bull. ‘Our town is strong against the thunders of the sea and of the sky!’
‘I want to go home,’ whined the Psammead.
‘We can’t go without him,’ said Anthea firmly.
‘Jimmy,’ she called, ‘Jimmy!’ and waved to him. He heard her, and began to come towards her through the crowd.
They could see from the balcony the sea-captain edging his way out from among the people. And his face was dead white, like paper.
‘To the hills!’ he cried in a loud and terrible voice. And above his voice came another voice, louder, more terrible – the voice of the sea.
The girls looked seaward.
Across the smooth distance of the sea something huge and black rolled towards the town. It was a wave, but a wave a hundred feet in height, a wave that looked like a mountain – a wave rising higher and higher till suddenly it seemed to break in two – one half of it rushed out to sea again; the other—
‘Oh!’ cried Anthea, ‘the town – the poor people!’
‘It’s all thousands of years ago, really,’ said Robert but his voice trembled. They hid their eyes for a moment. They could not bear to look down, for the wave had broken on the face of the town, sweeping over the quays and docks, overwhelming the great storehouses and factories, tearing gigantic stones from forts and bridges, and using them as battering rams against the temples. Great ships were swept over the roofs of the houses and dashed down half-way up the hill among ruined gardens and broken buildings. The water ground brown fishing-boats to powder on the golden roofs of Palaces.
Then the wave swept back towards the sea.
‘I want to go home,’ cried the Psammead fiercely.
‘Oh, yes, yes!’ said Jane, and the boys were ready – but the learned gentleman had not come.
Then suddenly they heard him dash up to the inner gallery, crying:
‘I must see the end of the dream.’ He rushed up the higher flight. The others followed him. They found themselves in a sort of turret – roofed, but open to the air at the sides.
The learned gentleman was leaning on the parapet, and as they rejoined him the vast wave rushed back on the town. This time it rose higher – destroyed more.
‘Come home,’ cried the Psammead; ‘that’s the last, I know it is! That’s the last – over there.’ It pointed with a claw that trembled.
‘Oh, come!’ cried Jane, holding up the Amulet.
‘I will see the end of the dream,’ cried the learned gentleman.
‘You’ll never see anything else if you do,’ said Cyril.
‘Oh, Jimmy!’ appealed Anthea. ‘I’ll never bring you out again!’
‘You’ll never have the chance if you don’t go soon,’ said the Psammead.
‘I will see the end of the dream,’ said the learned gentleman obstinately.
The hills around were black with people fleeing from the villages to the mountains. And even as they fled thin smoke broke from the great white peak, and then a faint flash of flame. Then the volcano began to throw up its mysterious fiery inside parts. The earth trembled; ashes and sulphur showered down; a rain of fine pumice-stone fell like snow on all the dry land. The elephants from the forest rushed up towards the peaks; great lizards thirty yards long broke from the mountain pools and rushed down towards the sea. The snows melted and rushed down, first in avalanches, then in roaring torrents. Great rocks cast up by the volcano fell splashing in the sea miles away.
‘Oh, this is horrible!’ cried Anthea. ‘Come home, come home!’
‘The end of the dream,’ gasped the learned gentleman.
‘Hold up the Amulet,’ cried the Psammead suddenly. The place where they stood was now crowded with men and women, and the children were strained tight against the parapet. The turret rocked and swayed; the wave had reached the golden wall.
Jane held up the Amulet.
‘Now,’ cried the Psammead, ‘say the word!’
And as Jane said it the Psammead leaped from its bag and bit the hand of the learned gentleman.
At the same moment the boys pushed him through the arch and all followed him.
He turned to look back, and through the arch he saw nothing but a waste of waters, with above it the peak of the terrible mountain with fire raging from it.
He staggered back to his chair.
‘What a ghastly dream!’ he gasped. ‘Oh, you’re here, my – er – dears. Can I do anything for you?’
‘You’ve hurt your hand,’ said Anthea gently; ‘let me bind it up.’
The hand was indeed bleeding rather badly.
The Psammead had crept back to its bag. All the children were very white.
‘Never again,’ said the Psammead later on, ‘will I go into the Past with a grown-up person! I will say for you four, you do do as you’re told.’
‘We didn’t even find the Amulet,’ said Anthea later still.
‘Of course you didn’t; it wasn’t there. Only the stone it was made of was there. It fell on to a ship miles away that managed to escape and got to Egypt. I could have told you that.’
‘I wish you had,’ said Anthea, and her voice was still rather shaky. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘You never asked me,’ said the Psammead very sulkily. ‘I’m not the sort of chap to go shoving my oar in where it’s not wanted.’
‘Mr Ji-jimmy’s friend will have something worth having to put in his article now,’ said Cyril very much later indeed.
‘Not he,’ said Robert sleepily. ‘the learned Ji-jimmy will think it’s a dream, and it’s ten to one he never tells the other chap a word about it at all.’
Robert was quite right on both points. The learned gentleman did. And he never did.
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