IN THE AVU OBSERVATORY
The observatory at Avu, in Borneo, stands on the spur of the mountain.To the north rises the old crater, black at night against theunfathomable blue of the sky. From the little circular building, withits mushroom dome, the slopes plunge steeply downward into the blackmysteries of the tropical forest beneath. The little house in whichthe observer and his assistant live is about fifty yards from theobservatory, and beyond this are the huts of their native attendants.
Thaddy, the chief observer, was down with a slight fever. Hisassistant, Woodhouse, paused for a moment in silent contemplation ofthe tropical night before commencing his solitary vigil. The nightwas very still. Now and then voices and laughter came from the nativehuts, or the cry of some strange animal was heard from the midst ofthe mystery of the forest. Nocturnal insects appeared in ghostlyfashion out of the darkness, and fluttered round his light. Hethought, perhaps, of all the possibilities of discovery that stilllay in the black tangle beneath him; for to the naturalist the virginforests of Borneo are still a wonderland full of strange questions andhalf-suspected discoveries. Woodhouse carried a small lantern in hishand, and its yellow glow contrasted vividly with the infinite seriesof tints between lavender-blue and black in which the landscape waspainted. His hands and face were smeared with ointment against theattacks 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 ofcramped and motionless watching. He sighed as he thought of thephysical fatigues before him, stretched himself, and entered theobservatory.
The reader is probably familiar with the structure of an ordinaryastronomical observatory. The building is usually cylindrical inshape, with a very light hemispherical roof capable of being turnedround from the interior. The telescope is supported upon a stonepillar in the centre, and a clockwork arrangement compensates for theearth's rotation, and allows a star once found to be continuouslyobserved. Besides this, there is a compact tracery of wheels andscrews about its point of support, by which the astronomer adjusts it.There is, of course, a slit in the movable roof which follows the eyeof the telescope in its survey of the heavens. The observer sits orlies on a sloping wooden arrangement, which he can wheel to any partof the observatory as the position of the telescope may require.Within it is advisable to have things as dark as possible, in order toenhance the brilliance of the stars observed.
The lantern flared as Woodhouse entered his circular den, and thegeneral darkness fled into black shadows behind the big machine, fromwhich it presently seemed to creep back over the whole place again asthe light waned. The slit was a profound transparent blue, in whichsix stars shone with tropical brilliance, and their light lay, apallid gleam, along the black tube of the instrument. Woodhouseshifted the roof, and then proceeding to the telescope, turned firstone wheel and then another, the great cylinder slowly swinging into anew position. Then he glanced through the finder, the littlecompanion telescope, moved the roof a little more, made some furtheradjustments, and set the clockwork in motion. He took off his jacket,for the night was very hot, and pushed into position the uncomfortableseat to which he was condemned for the next four hours. Then with asigh he resigned himself to his watch upon the mysteries of space.
There was no sound now in the observatory, and the lantern wanedsteadily. Outside there was the occasional cry of some animal in alarmor pain, or calling to its mate, and the intermittent sounds of theMalay and Dyak servants. Presently one of the men began a queerchanting song, in which the others joined at intervals. After this itwould seem that they turned in for the night, for no further soundcame from their direction, and the whispering stillness became moreand more profound.
The clockwork ticked steadily. The shrill hum of a mosquito exploredthe place and grew shriller in indignation at Woodhouse's ointment.Then the lantern went out and all the observatory was black.
Woodhouse shifted his position presently, when the slow movement ofthe telescope had carried it beyond the limits of his comfort.
He was watching a little group of stars in the Milky Way, in one ofwhich his chief had seen or fancied a remarkable colour variability.It was not a part of the regular work for which the establishmentexisted, and for that reason perhaps Woodhouse was deeply interested.He must have forgotten things terrestrial. All his attention wasconcentrated upon the great blue circle of the telescope field--acircle powdered, so it seemed, with an innumerable multitude of stars,and all luminous against the blackness of its setting. As he watchedhe seemed to himself to become incorporeal, as if he too were floatingin the ether of space. Infinitely remote was the faint red spot he wasobserving.
Suddenly the stars were blotted out. A flash of blackness passed, andthey were visible again.
"Queer," said Woodhouse. "Must have been a bird."
The thing happened again, and immediately after the great tubeshivered as though it had been struck. Then the dome of theobservatory resounded with a series of thundering blows. The starsseemed to sweep aside as the telescope--which had been undamped--swunground and away from the slit in the roof.
"Great Scott!" cried Woodhouse. "What's this?"
Some huge vague black shape, with a flapping something like a wing,seemed to be struggling in the aperture of the roof. In another momentthe slit was clear again, and the luminous haze of the Milky Way shonewarm and bright.
The interior of the roof was perfectly black, and only a scrapingsound marked 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.Was the thing, whatever it was, inside or out? It was big, whateverelse it might be. Something shot across the skylight, and thetelescope swayed. He started violently and put his arm up. It wasin 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 thensomething flapped almost into his face, and he saw the momentarygleam of starlight on a skin like oiled leather. His water-bottle wasknocked off his little table with a smash.
The sense of some strange bird-creature hovering a few yards from hisface in the darkness was indescribably unpleasant to Woodhouse. As histhought returned he concluded that it must be some night-bird or largebat. At any risk he would see what it was, and pulling a match fromhis pocket, he tried to strike it on the telescope seat. There was asmoking streak of phosphorescent light, the match flared for a moment,and he saw a vast wing sweeping towards him, a gleam of grey-brownfur, and then he was struck in the face and the match knocked out ofhis hand. The blow was aimed at his temple, and a claw tore sidewaysdown to his cheek. He reeled and fell, and he heard the extinguishedlantern smash. Another blow followed as he fell. He was partlystunned, he felt his own warm blood stream out upon his face.Instinctively he felt his eyes had been struck at, and, turning overon his face to protect them, tried to crawl under the protection ofthe telescope. He was struck again upon the back, and he heard hisjacket rip, and then the thing hit the roof of the observatory. Heedged as far as he could between the wooden seat and the eyepiece ofthe instrument, and turned his body round so that it was chiefly hisfeet that were exposed. With these he could at least kick. He wasstill in a mystified state. The strange beast banged about in thedarkness, and presently clung to the telescope, making it sway and thegear rattle. Once it flapped near him, and he kicked out madly andfelt a soft body with his feet. He was horribly scared now. It must bea big thing to swing the telescope like that. He saw for a moment theoutline of a head black against the starlight, with sharply-pointedupstanding ears and a crest between them. It seemed to him to be asbig as a mastiff's. Then he began to bawl out as loudly as he could forhelp.
At that the thing came down upon him again. As it did so his handtouched so
mething beside him on the floor. He kicked out, and thenext moment his ankle was gripped and held by a row of keen teeth. Heyelled again, and tried to free his leg by kicking with the other.Then he realised he had the broken water-bottle at his hand, and,snatching it, he struggled into a sitting posture, and feeling in thedarkness towards his foot, gripped a velvety ear, like the ear of abig cat. He had seized the water-bottle by its neck and brought itdown with a shivering crash upon the head of the strange beast. Herepeated the blow, and then stabbed and jobbed with the jagged end ofit, in the darkness, where he judged the face might be.
The small teeth relaxed their hold, and at once Woodhouse pulled hisleg free and kicked hard. He felt the sickening feel of fur and bonegiving under his boot. There was a tearing bite at his arm, and hestruck over it at the face, as he judged, and hit damp fur.
There was a pause; then he heard the sound of claws and the draggingof a heavy body away from him over the observatory floor. Then therewas silence, broken only by his own sobbing breathing, and a soundlike licking. Everything was black except the parallelogram of theblue skylight with the luminous dust of stars, against which the endof the telescope now appeared in silhouette. He waited, as it seemed,an interminable time. Was the thing coming on again? He felt in histrouser-pocket for some matches, and found one remaining. He triedto strike this, but the floor was wet, and it spat and went out. Hecursed. He could not see where the door was situated. In his strugglehe had quite lost his bearings. The strange beast, disturbed by thesplutter of the match, began to move again. "Time!" called Woodhouse,with a sudden gleam of mirth, but the thing was not coming at himagain. He must have hurt it, he thought, with the broken bottle. Hefelt a dull pain in his ankle. Probably he was bleeding there. Hewondered if it would support him if he tried to stand up. The nightoutside was very still. There was no sound of any one moving. Thesleepy fools had not heard those wings battering upon the dome, norhis shouts. It was no good wasting strength in shouting. The monsterflapped its wings and startled him into a defensive attitude. He hithis 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. Washe going to faint? It would never do to faint. He clenched his fistsand set his teeth to hold himself together. Where had the door gotto? It occurred to him he could get his bearings by the stars visiblethrough the skylight. The patch of stars he saw was in Sagittarius andsouth-eastward; the door was north--or was it north by west? He triedto think. If he could get the door open he might retreat. It might bethe thing was wounded. The suspense was beastly. "Look here!" he said,"if you don't come on, I shall come at you."
Then the thing began clambering up the side of the observatory, andhe saw its black outline gradually blot out the skylight. Was it inretreat? He forgot about the door, and watched as the dome shifted andcreaked. Somehow he did not feel very frightened or excited now. Hefelt a curious sinking sensation inside him. The sharply-defined patchof light, with the black form moving across it, seemed to be growingsmaller and smaller. That was curious. He began to feel very thirsty,and yet he did not feel inclined to get anything to drink. He seemedto be sliding down a long funnel.
He felt a burning sensation in his throat, and then he perceived itwas broad daylight, and that one of the Dyak servants was looking athim with a curious expression. Then there was the top of Thaddy's faceupside down. Funny fellow, Thaddy, to go about like that! Then hegrasped the situation better, and perceived that his head was onThaddy's knee, and Thaddy was giving him brandy. And then he saw theeyepiece of the telescope with a lot of red smears on it. He began toremember.
"You've made this observatory in a pretty mess," said Thaddy.
The Dyak boy was beating up an egg in brandy. Woodhouse took this andsat up. He felt a sharp twinge of pain. His ankle was tied up, so werehis arm and the side of his face. The smashed glass, red-stained,lay about the floor, the telescope seat was overturned, and by theopposite wall was a dark pool. The door was open, and he saw the greysummit of the mountain against 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 strugglebetween duty and inclination to keep Woodhouse quiet until he wasdecently put away in bed, and had slept upon the copious dose ofmeat-extract Thaddy considered advisable. They then talked it overtogether.
"It was," said Woodhouse, "more like a big bat than anything else inthe world. It had sharp, short ears, and soft fur, and its wings wereleathery. Its teeth were little, but devilish sharp, and its jaw couldnot have been very strong or else it would have bitten through myankle."
"It has pretty nearly," said Thaddy.
"It seemed to me to hit out with its claws pretty freely. Thatis about as much as I know about the beast. Our conversation wasintimate, so to speak, and yet not confidential."
"The Dyak chaps talk about a Big Colugo, a Klang-utang--whateverthat may be. It does not often attack man, but I suppose you made itnervous. They say there is a Big Colugo and a Little Colugo, and asomething else that sounds like gobble. They all fly about at night.For my own part I know there are flying foxes and flying lemurs abouthere, but they are none of them very big beasts."
"There are more things in heaven and earth," said Woodhouse--andThaddy groaned at the quotation--"and more particularly in the forestsof Borneo, than are dreamt of in our philosophies. On the whole, ifthe Borneo fauna is going to disgorge any more of its novelties uponme, I should prefer that it did so when I was not occupied in theobservatory at night and alone."