Produced by Andrew Sly A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder By James De Mille CONTENTS I. The Finding of the Copper Cylinder II. Adrift in the Antarctic Ocean III. A World of Fire and Desolation IV. The Sight of Human Beings V. The Torrent Sweeping Under the Mountains VI. The New World VII. Scientific Theories and Scepticism VIII. The Cave-Dwellers IX. The Cavern of the Dead X. The Sacred Hunt XI. The Swamp Monster XII. The Baleful Sacrifice XIII. The Awful "Mista Kosek" XIV. I Learn My Doom XV. The Kohen is Inexorable XVI. The Kosekin XVII. Belief and Unbelief XVIII. A Voyage over the Pole XIX. The Wonders of the "Amir" XX. The Dark Maiden Layelah XXI. The Flying Monster XXII. Escape XXIII. The Island of Fire XXIV. Recapture XXV. Falling, like Icarus, into the Sea XXVI. Grimm's Law Again XXVII. Oxenden Preaches a Sermon XXVIII. In Prison XXIX. The Ceremony of Separation XXX. The Day of Sacrifice XXXI. Conclusion CHAPTER I THE FINDING OF THE COPPER CYLINDER It occurred as far back as February 15, 1850. It happened on that day that the yacht Falcon lay becalmed upon the ocean between the Canaries and the Madeira Islands. This yacht Falcon was the property of Lord Featherstone, who, being weary of life in England, had taken a few congenial friends for a winter's cruise in these southern latitudes. They had visited the Azores, the Canaries, and the Madeira Islands, and were now on their way to the Mediterranean. The wind had failed, a deep calm had succeeded, and everywhere, as far as the eye could reach, the water was smooth and glassy. The yacht rose and fell at the impulse of the long ocean undulations, and the creaking of the spars sounded out a lazy accompaniment to the motion of the vessel. All around was a watery horizon, except in the one place only, toward the south, where far in the distance the Peak of Teneriffe rose into the air. The profound calm, the warm atmosphere, the slow pitching of the yacht, and the dull creaking of the spars all combined to lull into a state of indolent repose the people on board. Forward were the crew; some asleep, others smoking, others playing cards. At the stern were Oxenden, the intimate friend of Featherstone, and Dr. Congreve, who had come in the double capacity of friend and medical attendant. These two, like the crew, were in a state of dull and languid repose. Suspended between the two masts, in an Indian hammock, lay Featherstone, with a cigar in his mouth and a novel in his hand, which he was pretending to read. The fourth member of the party, Melick, was seated near the mainmast, folding some papers in a peculiar way. His occupation at length attracted the roving eyes of Featherstone, who poked forth his head from his hammock, and said in a sleepy voice: