By a single push he could thrust me into the fathomless gulf below, and
with the realization of that fact, I felt that it was now a life and
death struggle. With every muscle strained to its utmost tension, with
my soul on fire, my brain frenzied, I drew back the bar of iron to smite
the apparently defenseless being in the forehead, but he moved not, and
as I made the motion, he calmly remarked: "Do you remember the history
of Hiram Abiff?"
[Illustration: "I DREW BACK THE BAR OF IRON TO SMITE THE APPARENTLY
DEFENSELESS BEING IN THE FOREHEAD."]
The hand that held the weapon dropped as if stricken by paralysis, and a
flood of recollections concerning my lost home overcame me. I had raised
my hand against a brother, the only being of my kind who could aid me,
or assist me either to advance or recede. How could I, unaided, recross
that glassy lake, and pass through the grotesque forests of fungi and
the labyrinth of crystal grottoes of the salt bed? How could I find my
way in the utter darkness that existed in the damp, soppy, dripping
upper caverns that I must retrace before I could hope to reach the
surface of the earth? "Forgive me," I sobbed, and sunk at his feet.
"Forgive me, my friend, my brother; I have been wild, mad, am crazed."
He made no reply, but pointed over my shoulder into the space beyond.
I turned, and in the direction indicated, saw, in amazement, floating in
the distant space a snow- and ice-clad vessel in full sail. She was
headed diagonally from us, and was moving rapidly across the field of
vision. Every spar and sail was clearly defined, and on her deck, and in
the rigging I beheld sailors clad in winter garments pursuing their
various duties.
As I gazed, enraptured, she disappeared in the distance.
"A phantom vessel," I murmured.
"No," he replied; "the abstraction of a vessel sailing on the ocean
above us. Every object on earth is the second to an imprint in another
place. There is an apparent reproduction of matter in so-called vacancy,
and on unseen pages a recording of all events. As that ship sailed over
the ocean above us, she disturbed a current of energy, and it left its
impress as an outline on a certain zone beneath, which is parallel with
that upon which we now chance to stand."
"I can not comprehend," I muttered.
"No," he answered; "to you it seems miraculous, as to all men an
unexplained phenomenon approaches the supernatural. All that is is
natural. Have men not been told in sacred writings that their every
movement is being recorded in the Book of Life, and do they not often
doubt because they can not grasp the problem? May not the greatest
scientist be the most apt skeptic?"
"Yes," I replied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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