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Updated: June 3, 2025
It hit the Throckmartin party on that island and they probably were all more or less delirious all the time; thought they saw things; talked it over and collective hallucination just like the Angels of Mons and other miracles of the war. Somebody sees something that looks like something else. He points it out to the man next him. 'Do you see it? asks he. 'Sure I see it, says the other.
When consciousness came back, the lights were again burning brightly. But of Throckmartin there was no trace! "The Shining Devil Took Them!" My colleagues of the Association, and you others who may read this my narrative, for what I did and did not when full realization returned I must offer here, briefly as I can, an explanation; a defense if you will.
Coincidentally with my recognition came a shock of surprise, definitely unpleasant. It was Throckmartin but about him was something disturbingly unlike the man I had known long so well and to whom and to whose little party I had bidden farewell less than a month before I myself had sailed for these seas.
The handmaiden was weeping softly. "Love never left them. Love was stronger than the Shining One. And when its evil fled, love went with them wherever souls go." Of Stanton and Thora there was no trace; nor, after our discovery of those other two, did I care to look more. They were dead and they were free. We buried Throckmartin and Edith beside Olaf in Lakla's bower.
Larry became immediately his old gay self. The green dwarf regarded us whimsically, sipping from his great flagon of rock crystal. "Much do I desire to know of that world you came from," he said at last "through the rocks," he added, slyly. "And much do we desire to know of this world of yours, O Rador," I answered. Should I ask him of the Dweller; seek from him a clue to Throckmartin?
The ensemble of the vessel from captain to cabin boy was, to put it conservatively, average. None, I knew, save Throckmartin and myself had seen the first apparition of the Dweller. Had they witnessed the second? I did not know, nor could I risk speaking, not knowing. And not seeing, how could they believe? They would have thought me insane or worse; even, it might be, his murderer.
They dropped a boat and left me. I steered straight on the path. I lashed my hands to the wheel that sleep might not loose them. I steered on and on and on "Where was the God I prayed when my wife and child were taken?" cried Olaf Huldricksson and it was as though I heard Throckmartin asking that same bitter question. "I have left Him as He left me, ja!
The ear took the cry and translated with conscious labour into the sounds of earth. And even as it compassed, the brain shrank from it irresistibly, and simultaneously it seemed reached toward it with irresistible eagerness. Throckmartin strode toward the front of the deck, straight toward the vision, now but a few yards away from the stern. His face had lost all human semblance.
Throckmartin straightened as though with a new thought. He gripped the officer's sleeve eagerly. "You mean at least cloudy weather for" he hesitated "for the next three nights, say?" "And for three more," replied the mate. "Thank God!" cried Throckmartin, and I think I never heard such relief and hope as was in his voice. The sailor stood amazed. "Thank God?" he repeated. "Thank what d'ye mean?"
With memory a hope died that I had not known was in me, the hope that he had escaped from the cabin, found refuge elsewhere on the ship. And as I stooped, fumbling with shaking fingers for the key, a thought came to me that drove again the blood from my heart, held me rigid. I could sound no alarm on the Southern Queen for Throckmartin! Conviction of my appalling helplessness was complete.
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