When I came to my senses it was daylight. A half light pierced the
thick glass port-hole of the narrow cabin wherein someone had placed
me—how many hours ago, I could not say! Yet it seemed to me by the
slanting rays, that the sun could not be very far above the horizon.
I was resting in a narrow bunk with coverings over me. My clothes,
hanging in a corner, had been dried. My belt, torn in half by the hook
of the iron, lay on the floor.
I felt no wound nor injury, only a little weakness. If I had lost
consciousness, I was sure it had not been from a blow. My head must
have been drawn beneath the water, when I was tangled in the cable. I
should have been suffocated, if someone had not dragged me from the
lake.
Now, was I on board the “Terror?” And was I alone with the Captain and
his two men? This seemed probable, almost certain. The whole scene of
our encounter rose before my eyes, Hart lying wounded upon the bank;
Wells firing shot after shot, Walker hurled down at the instant when
the grappling hook caught my belt! And my companions? On their side,
must not they think that I had perished in the waters of Lake Erie?
Where was the “Terror” now, and how was it navigating? Was it moving as
an automobile? Speeding across the roads of some neighboring State? If
so, and if I had been unconscious for many hours, the machine with its
tremendous powers must be already far away. Or, on the other hand, were
we, as a submarine, following some course beneath the lake?
No, the “Terror” was moving upon some broad liquid surface. The
sunlight, penetrating my cabin, showed that the window was not
submerged. On the other hand, I felt none of the jolting that the
automobile must have suffered even on the smoothest highway. Hence the
“Terror” was not traveling upon land.
As to deciding whether she was still traversing Lake Erie, that was
another matter. Had not the Captain reascended the Detroit River, and
entered Lake Huron, or even Lake Superior beyond? It was difficult to
say.
At any rate I decided to go up on deck. From there I might be able to
judge. Dragging myself somewhat heavily from the bunk, I reached for my
clothes and dressed, though without much energy. Was I not probably
locked within this cabin?
The only exit seemed by a ladder and hatchway above my head. The hatch
rose readily to my hand, and I ascended half way on deck.
My first care was to look forward, backward, and on both sides of the
speeding “Terror.” Everywhere a vast expanse of waves! Not a shore in
sight! Nothing but the horizon formed by sea and sky!
Whether it was a lake or the ocean I could easily settle. As we shot
forward at such speed the water cut by the bow, rose furiously upward
on either side, and the spray lashed savagely against me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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