V.
IN THE AVU OBSERVATORY.
The observatory at Avu, in Borneo, stands on the spur of the mountain. Tothe north rises the old crater, black at night against the unfathomableblue of the sky. From the little circular building, with its mushroomdome, the slopes plunge steeply downward into the black mysteries of thetropical forest beneath. The little house in which the observer and hisassistant live is about fifty yards from the observatory, and beyond thisare the huts of their native attendants.
Thaddy, the chief observer, was down with a slight fever. His assistant,Woodhouse, paused for a moment in silent contemplation of the tropicalnight before commencing his solitary vigil. The night was very still. Nowand then voices and laughter came from the native huts, or the cry of somestrange animal was heard from the midst of the mystery of the forest.Nocturnal insects appeared in ghostly fashion out of the darkness, andfluttered round his light. He thought, perhaps, of all the possibilitiesof discovery that still lay in the black tangle beneath him; for to thenaturalist the virgin forests of Borneo are still a wonderland full ofstrange questions and half-suspected discoveries. Woodhouse carried asmall lantern in his hand, and its yellow glow contrasted vividly with theinfinite series of tints between lavender-blue and black in which thelandscape was painted. His hands and face were smeared with ointmentagainst the attacks of the mosquitoes.
Even in these days of celestial photography, work done in a purelytemporary erection, and with only the most primitive appliances inaddition to the telescope, still involves a very large amount of crampedand motionless watching. He sighed as he thought of the physical fatiguesbefore him, stretched himself, and entered the observatory.
The reader is probably familiar with the structure of an ordinaryastronomical observatory. The building is usually cylindrical in shape,with a very light hemispherical roof capable of being turned round fromthe interior. The telescope is supported upon a stone pillar in thecentre, and a clockwork arrangement compensates for the earth's rotation,and allows a star once found to be continuously observed. Besides this,there is a compact tracery of wheels and screws about its point ofsupport, by which the astronomer adjusts it. There is, of course, a slitin the movable roof which follows the eye of the telescope in its surveyof the heavens. The observer sits or lies on a sloping wooden arrangement,which he can wheel to any part of the observatory as the position of thetelescope may require. Within it is advisable to have things as dark aspossible, in order to enhance the brilliance of the stars observed.
The lantern flared as Woodhouse entered his circular den, and the generaldarkness fled into black shadows behind the big machine, from which itpresently seemed to creep back over the whole place again as the lightwaned. The slit was a profound transparent blue, in which six stars shonewith tropical brilliance, and their light lay, a pallid gleam, along theblack tube of the instrument. Woodhouse shifted the roof, and thenproceeding to the telescope, turned first one wheel and then another, thegreat cylinder slowly swinging into a new position. Then he glancedthrough the finder, the little companion telescope, moved the roof alittle more, made some further adjustments, and set the clockwork inmotion. He took off his jacket, for the night was very hot, and pushedinto position the uncomfortable seat to which he was condemned for thenext four hours. Then with a sigh he resigned himself to his watch uponthe mysteries of space.
There was no sound now in the observatory, and the lantern waned steadily.Outside there was the occasional cry of some animal in alarm or pain, orcalling to its mate, and the intermittent sounds of the Malay and Dyakservants. Presently one of the men began a queer chanting song, in whichthe others joined at intervals. After this it would seem that they turnedin for the night, for no further sound came from their direction, and thewhispering stillness became more and more profound.
The clockwork ticked steadily. The shrill hum of a mosquito explored theplace and grew shriller in indignation at Woodhouse's ointment. Then thelantern went out and all the observatory was black.
Woodhouse shifted his position presently, when the slow movement of thetelescope had carried it beyond the limits of his comfort.
He was watching a little group of stars in the Milky Way, in one of whichhis chief had seen or fancied a remarkable colour variability. It was nota part of the regular work for which the establishment existed, and forthat reason perhaps Woodhouse was deeply interested. He must haveforgotten things terrestrial. All his attention was concentrated upon thegreat blue circle of the telescope field--a circle powdered, so it seemed,with an innumerable multitude of stars, and all luminous against theblackness of its setting. As he watched he seemed to himself to becomeincorporeal, as if he too were floating in the ether of space. Infinitelyremote was the faint red spot he was observing.
Suddenly the stars were blotted out. A flash of blackness passed, and theywere visible again.
"Queer," said Woodhouse. "Must have been a bird."
The thing happened again, and immediately after the great tube shivered asthough it had been struck. Then the dome of the observatory resounded witha series of thundering blows. The stars seemed to sweep aside as thetelescope--which had been unclamped--swung round and away from the slit inthe roof.
"Great Scott!" cried Woodhouse. "What's this?"
Some huge vague black shape, with a flapping something like a wing, seemedto be struggling in the aperture of the roof. In another moment the slitwas clear again, and the luminous haze of the Milky Way shone warm andbright.
The interior of the roof was perfectly black, and only a scraping soundmarked the whereabouts of the unknown creature.
Woodhouse had scrambled from the seat to his feet. He was tremblingviolently and in a perspiration with the suddenness of the occurrence. Wasthe thing, whatever it was, inside or out? It was big, whatever else itmight be. Something shot across the skylight, and the telescope swayed. Hestarted violently and put his arm up. It was in the observatory, then,with him. It was clinging to the roof apparently. What the devil was it?Could it see him?
He stood for perhaps a minute in a state of stupefaction. The beast,whatever it was, clawed at the interior of the dome, and then somethingflapped almost into his face, and he saw the momentary gleam of starlighton a skin like oiled leather. His water-bottle was knocked off his littletable with a smash.
The sense of some strange bird-creature hovering a few yards from his facein the darkness was indescribably unpleasant to Woodhouse. As his thoughtreturned he concluded that it must be some night-bird or large bat. At anyrisk he would see what it was, and pulling a match from his pocket, hetried to strike it on the telescope seat. There was a smoking streak ofphosphorescent light, the match flared for a moment, and he saw a vastwing sweeping towards him, a gleam of grey-brown fur, and then he wasstruck in the face and the match knocked out of his hand. The blow wasaimed at his temple, and a claw tore sideways down to his cheek. He reeledand fell, and he heard the extinguished lantern smash. Another blowfollowed as he fell. He was partly stunned, he felt his own warm bloodstream out upon his face. Instinctively he felt his eyes had been struckat, and, turning over on his face to save them, tried to crawl under theprotection of the telescope.
He was struck again upon the back, and he heard his jacket rip, and thenthe thing hit the roof of the observatory. He edged as far as he couldbetween the wooden seat and the eyepiece of the instrument, and turned hisbody round so that it was chiefly his feet that were exposed. With thesehe could at least kick. He was still in a mystified state. The strangebeast banged about in the darkness, and presently clung to the telescope,making it sway and the gear rattle. Once it flapped near him, and hekicked out madly and felt a soft body with his feet. He was horriblyscared now. It must be a big thing to swing the telescope like that. Hesaw for a moment the outline of a head black against the starlight, withsharply-pointed upstanding ears and a crest between them. It seemed to himto be as big as a mastiff's. Then he began to bawl out as loudly as hecould for help.
At that the thing came do
wn upon him again. As it did so his hand touchedsomething beside him on the floor. He kicked out, and the next moment hisankle was gripped and held by a row of keen teeth. He yelled again, andtried to free his leg by kicking with the other. Then he realised he hadthe broken water-bottle at his hand, and, snatching it, he struggled intoa sitting posture, and feeling in the darkness towards his foot, gripped avelvety ear, like the ear of a big cat. He had seized the water-bottle byits neck and brought it down with a shivering crash upon the head of thestrange beast. He repeated the blow, and then stabbed and jabbed with thejagged end of it, in the darkness, where he judged the face might be.
The small teeth relaxed their hold, and at once Woodhouse pulled his legfree and kicked hard. He felt the sickening feel of fur and bone givingunder his boot. There was a tearing bite at his arm, and he struck over itat the face, as he judged, and hit damp fur.
There was a pause; then he heard the sound of claws; and the dragging of aheavy body away from him over the observatory floor. Then there wassilence, broken only by his own sobbing breathing, and a sound likelicking. Everything was black except the parallelogram of the blueskylight with the luminous dust of stars, against which the end of thetelescope now appeared in silhouette. He waited, as it seemed, aninterminable time.
Was the thing coming on again? He felt in his trouser-pocket for somematches, and found one remaining. He tried to strike this, but the floorwas wet, and it spat and went out. He cursed. He could not see where thedoor was situated. In his struggle he had quite lost his bearings. Thestrange beast, disturbed by the splutter of the match, began to moveagain. "Time!" called Woodhouse, with a sudden gleam of mirth, but thething was not coming at him again. He must have hurt it, he thought, withthe broken bottle. He felt a dull pain in his ankle. Probably he wasbleeding there. He wondered if it would support him if he tried to standup. The night outside was very still. There was no sound of any onemoving. The sleepy fools had not heard those wings battering upon thedome, nor his shouts. It was no good wasting strength in shouting. Themonster flapped its wings and startled him into a defensive attitude. Hehit his elbow against the seat, and it fell over with a crash. He cursedthis, and then he cursed the darkness.
Suddenly the oblong patch of starlight seemed to sway to and fro. Was hegoing to faint? It would never do to faint. He clenched his fists and sethis teeth to hold himself together. Where had the door got to? It occurredto him he could get his bearings by the stars visible through theskylight. The patch of stars he saw was in Sagittarius and south-eastward;the door was north--or was it north by west? He tried to think. If hecould get the door open he might retreat. It might be the thing waswounded. The suspense was beastly. "Look here!" he said, "if you don'tcome on, I shall come at you."
Then the thing began clambering up the side of the observatory, and he sawits black outline gradually blot out the skylight. Was it in retreat? Heforgot about the door, and watched as the dome shifted and creaked.Somehow he did not feel very frightened or excited now. He felt a curioussinking sensation inside him. The sharply-defined patch of light, with theblack form moving across it, seemed to be growing smaller and smaller.That was curious. He began to feel very thirsty, and yet he did not feelinclined to get anything to drink. He seemed to be sliding down a longfunnel.
He felt a burning sensation in his throat, and then he perceived it wasbroad daylight, and that one of the Dyak servants was looking at him witha curious expression. Then there was the top of Thaddy's face upside down.Funny fellow, Thaddy, to go about like that! Then he grasped the situationbetter, and perceived that his head was on Thaddy's knee, and Thaddy wasgiving him brandy. And then he saw the eyepiece of the telescope with alot of red smears on it. He began to remember.
"You've made this observatory in a pretty mess," said Thaddy.
The Dyak boy was beating up an egg in brandy. Woodhouse took this and satup. He felt a sharp twinge of pain. His ankle was tied up, so were hisarm and the side of his face. The smashed glass, red-stained, lay aboutthe floor, the telescope seat was overturned, and by the opposite wall wasa dark pool. The door was open, and he saw the grey summit of the mountainagainst a brilliant background of blue sky.
"Pah!" said Woodhouse. "Who's been killing calves here? Take me out ofit."
Then he remembered the Thing, and the fight he had had with it.
"What _was_ it?" he said to Thaddy--"the Thing I fought with?".
"_You_ know that best," said Thaddy. "But, anyhow, don't worryyourself now about it. Have some more to drink."
Thaddy, however, was curious enough, and it was a hard struggle betweenduty and inclination to keep Woodhouse quiet until he was decently putaway in bed, and had slept upon the copious dose of meat extract Thaddyconsidered advisable. They then talked it over together.
"It was," said Woodhouse, "more like a big bat than anything else in theworld. It had sharp, short ears, and soft fur, and its wings wereleathery. Its teeth were little but devilish sharp, and its jaw could nothave been very strong or else it would have bitten through my ankle."
"It has pretty nearly," said Thaddy.
"It seemed to me to hit out with its claws pretty freely. That is about asmuch as I know about the beast. Our conversation was intimate, so tospeak, and yet not confidential."
"The Dyak chaps talk about a Big Colugo, a Klang-utang--whatever that maybe. It does not often attack man, but I suppose you made it nervous. Theysay there is a Big Colugo and a Little Colugo, and a something else thatsounds like gobble. They all fly about at night. For my own part, I knowthere are flying foxes and flying lemurs about here, but they are none ofthem very big beasts."
"There are more things in heaven and earth," said Woodhouse--and Thaddygroaned at the quotation--"and more particularly in the forests of Borneo,than are dreamt of in our philosophies. On the whole, if the Borneo faunais going to disgorge any more of its novelties upon me, I should preferthat it did so when I was not occupied in the observatory at night andalone."