Chapter XXIV: The Water City

It had stopped raining; the sky overhead was luminous with diffused sunlight; the scene that lay before Mercer was plainly visible. The river had opened abruptly into a broad, shallow, nearly circular lake, some five or six miles across. The country here showed an extraordinary change from that they had passed through. The lake appeared to occupy a depression in the surrounding hills, like the bottom of a huge, shallow bowl. From the water’s edge on all sides the ground sloped upward. It was no longer a barren, rocky land, but seemingly covered with a rich heavy soil, dotted with tropical trees. That it was under a high state of cultivation was evident. Mercer saw tier upon tier of rice terraces on the hillsides.

But what astonished him most was the city itself. It covered almost the entire surface of the lake--a huge collection of little palm-thatched shacks built upon platforms raised above the water on stilts. Some of the houses were larger and built of stone, with their foundations in the water.

Off to one side were two or three little islands, an acre or less in extent, fringed with palms and coconut trees. In nearly the center of the lake stood a stone castle, two stories in height, with minarets ornamenting its corners. An open stretch of water surrounded it.

There was little of regularity about this extraordinary city, and no evidence of streets, for the houses were set down quite haphazard wherever open space afforded. In some places they were more crowded together than others, although seldom closer than twenty or thirty feet.

Around the larger ones there was a little more open water, as though the owners controlled it and forbade building there. Some of the smaller houses were connected by little wooden bridges. Anina said this was where two or more families of relatives had located together.

There were a few boats moving about--little punts hollowed out of logs and propelled by long poles--and Mercer saw many others, some of them larger like the one he and Anina were in, tied up by the houses. It was now the time of the evening meal. The workers had returned from the terraces; there were few moving about the city. Occasionally a girl would dart up from one of the houses and wing her way to another, but beyond that there were no signs of activity.

Anina took command of the boat now, slowing it down and heading for the nearest of the houses, which were hardly more than quarter of a mile away. Mercer stretched himself out in the bottom of the boat, covering himself with a large piece of fabric that lay there. He felt that he would be unnoticed, even should a girl chance to pass directly overhead. But he could see nothing of the city from where he was, and soon grew restless and anxious to do something else.

“I’m coming up, Anina,” he said once. “Shucks! Nobody can do anything to us. Haven’t I got this light-ray?”

But Anina was obdurate, and made him stay where he was.

They went slowly forward and were soon among the houses. On the front platform of one a man sat fishing. A little naked boy slid down into the water from another, swimming as though born to the water. Both stared at Anina curiously as she passed slowly by, but they said nothing. A girl looked out of the window of another house and waved her hand in friendly greeting, which Anina answered.

Mercer, lying with all but his face covered by the cloth, could see only the sides of the boat, the bottom of the cross-seat over his head, and Anina as she sat above him in the stern.

“Where do you suppose the Tao people hang out around here?” he suddenly asked. “If we could--”

The girl silenced him with a gesture.

He lowered his voice. “Try and find out where they are, Anina,” he whispered.

Anina steered the boat directly under several of the houses, which must have been quite a usual proceeding, for it attracted no attention. A girl flew close to them once, and Anina called to her. The girl alighted on the stern of the boat for a moment; Mercer slid the cloth over his face and held himself motionless. Then he heard Anina’s voice calling to him softly. He slid the cloth back; the girl had gone.

“She says Tao’s men live, there--large house, of wood,” said Anina, pointing off to one side.

Mercer nearly rapped his head against the seat above him in his excitement.

“You know which house? Let’s go there. Maybe we can hear what they’re saying. Can we get under it?”

She nodded.

“Let’s try, Anina,” he said eagerly. “You steer us slow right under it, just as if you were going past. If there’s nobody in sight you can stop underneath, can’t you? Maybe we can hear what they’re saying.”

“I try,” the girl said simply.

“I’ll lay still,” encouraged Mercer. “Nobody will bother about you. Just sneak in and see what happens. If anybody sees you, keep going.”

He was all excitement, and in spite of Anina’s protests wriggled about continually, trying to see where they were.

The house that the girl had pointed out lay only a few hundred yards ahead. It was one of the largest of the wooden buildings--sixty or seventy feet long at least--single story, with a high sloping thatched roof.

It was raised on a platform some six feet above the water, which, in front, had a little flight of wooden steps leading down to the surface. There was a hundred feet of open water on all sides of the building. The boat, moving slowly, slipped through the water almost without a sound.

“Where are we now?” Mercer whispered impatiently. “Aren’t we there yet?”

The girl put a finger to her lips. “Almost there. Quiet now.”

She steered straight for the house. There was no one in sight, either about the house itself or about those in its immediate vicinity. A moment more and the boat slid beneath the building into semidarkness.

Anina shut the power off and stood up. The floor of the house was just above her head. In front of her, near the center of the building, she saw the side walls of an inner inclosure some twenty feet square. These walls came down to the surface, making a room like a basement to the dwelling. A broad doorway, with a sliding door that now stood open, gave ingress.

The boat had now almost lost headway. Anina nosed its bow into this doorway, and grasping one of the pilings near at hand, brought it to rest.

Mercer, at a signal from her, climbed cautiously to his feet, still holding the little light-ray cylinder in his hand.

“What’s that in there?” he whispered.

Beyond the doorway, through which the bow of the boat projected, there was complete darkness.

“Lower room,” Anina whispered back. “Store things in there. And boat landing, too.”

“Let’s go in and see.”

Mercer started toward the bow of the boat. Six feet or more of it was inside the doorway. He made his way carefully into the bow, and found himself inside the basement of the house.

In the dimness of this interior he could just make out the outlines of things around. The doorway was located at a corner of the inclosure. In front lay a small open space of water. At one side a platform about two feet above the surface formed the floor of the room. A tiny punt lay moored to it. Farther back a small, steep flight of steps led up through a rectangular opening to the building above.

Most of the light in this lower room came down through this opening; and now, as Mercer stood quiet looking about him, he could hear plainly the voices of men in the room above.

Anina was beside him.

“They’re up there,” he whispered, pointing. “Let’s land and see if we can get up those stairs a ways and hear what they’re saying.”

They stood a moment, undecided, and then from the silence and darkness about them they distinctly heard a low muffled sound.

“What’s that?” whispered Mercer, startled. “Didn’t you hear that, Anina? There’s something over there by the bottom of the steps.”

They listened, but only the murmur of the voices from above, and an occasional footstep, broke the stillness.

“I tell you I heard something,” Mercer persisted. “There’s something over there.” He rattled a bit of rope incautiously, as if to startle a rat from its hiding place. “Let’s tie up, Anina.”