Latest / Weird Tales Presents: Web of the Spider! / The Monster of the Pit by Paul S. Powers

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The Monster of the Pit by Paul S. Powers · Weird Tales Presents: Web of the Spider!

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Section five of Weird Tales presents Webb of the Spider. This the LibriVox recording.
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All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to
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volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Chris Pyle. Weird Tales
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presents Webb of the Spider. Monsters of the Pit by Paul S. Powers.
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How did I lose my left arm? Well, gentlemen, I have
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felt that question coming for a long time, and to tell the truth about
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the matter, I rather dreaded it. For as well as I have grown
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to know you during these lonesome nights at the club, I never thought the
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time would come when I could unburden my mind. I don't expect that you
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will believe me, either you, Bronson or Roberts. Here. I tried
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to tell the story once before to a French doctor at portsa'id. He laughed
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at me first and thought me insane afterwards. I won't blame you for doing
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the same. Sometimes I hardly believe the story myself. It seems more like
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a nightmare than a reality. But here's the proved, gentleman, this poor
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stump that once was a fairly serviceable left arm It looks like a neat surgical
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operation, doesn't it. But it took my wife three hacks to get it
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off. Waiter, bring the vermouth there, Thank you. You look startled,
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gentlemen. Perhaps you'd better have a drop of the wine to take the
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chill of the London fog from your bones. Beastly night outside. No,
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I wasn't joking, Bronson, and it would be so good as to hand
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me a cigarette. I'll tell the tale, spin the yarn as you Americans
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put it. You won't believe the story, but that makes a little difference.
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I think there's a little saying in your country. If you believe it,
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it's true. It happened four years ago when I was down at portsayied
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with the engineering company. I was a single man then, with not a
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thought in the world other than to take my good money while I could get
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it, and to get out when there was no more to be had.
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It was good pay, but rotten work in a rottener country. The town
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wasn't bad for headquarters, but it was the trips into the interior that broke
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us down. From the chief engineer to Tubbs, the youngest apprentice a year
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or two, and the average man was done in that country. I saw
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three white men sent back to the coast on litters, and two more went
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back in a more gruesome condition. When it wasn't the fever, it was
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the insects, and usually it was both. The snakes and the flies weren't
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so bad, for a man could kill them, or some of them.
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But I'll never forget the breath of those awful swamps, nor the touch of
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those ungodly creeping things that were bound to be in your boots in the morning
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and on your cot at night. Well is half way across the Nigger country
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that stretches between the company offices and Suwakin. There were seven of us white
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men and a party of blacks. One of the black boys, however,
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I really grew tolike and trust he knew the country, the desert, in
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the jungle, and he knew mules. He was in charge of the string
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we had with us. Colly was this remarkable fellow's name, And I suppose
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I am the only one who now remembers it. Can you imagine seeing a
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beautiful English girl in a filthy native town in the depths of Africa. I
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couldn't either until I saw her gad. She was white and young. When
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I met her in that market place, the basket on her arm, addressed
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like a nun. I got the biggest thrill of my life. She was
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about eighteen, and though I didn't see the beauty of her at the time,
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I was shocked beyond words. I learned afterward that I was the first
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Englishman she had ever seen, with the exception of her father. But more
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of that later. Just that glimpse was all I had that day, and
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it was enough to set me thinking. The chief only laughed when I reached
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the camp with the news. But the chief was a steady old blighter with
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grandchildren in south Sea, so I didn't wonder. It was the same when
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I told the other men, But they thought I had been drinking. But
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it was true. And of course I asked Collie, why that is the
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daughter of the dread father, the mad white man? He winked over the
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cigarette I had given him. But no, all white men are mad.
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And who I ask? Is this white man? A learned man, grin
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Collie, but mad all the same. He was here when my father was
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as I am, and even then he was mad. He was not mad?
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Would he creep in the swamps and in the sand, even as the
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insects. But how does he live? Ah? He has gold, English
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gold. Two times, sometimes three times a year. He goes to the
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coast and brings back all manner of strange things. Wanaki, one of blacks,
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once told me that he brought back devils in tiny bottles from the English
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ships to uncork. The bottles means death, a terrible swelling death. Whenaki
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told of his devils, and how a black boy died even as cattle died
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from the cobra. But there was no snake, there was only a white
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powder. Does the girl go with him on his trips to Port Sa'id?
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If she had, Wanaki would have told me the girl child is made to
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stay with the black women. The white man is mad, and if you
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take the advice of Klli, you will forget the white child. Woman in
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the long black dress Colli looked very wise, indeed, and I believe he
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wanted another cigarette. I cursed him sourly and left him to his mules.
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The sight of the woman had said, something loose within me. You know
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well how it is in the wilderness. And it has been long weeks since
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we had left Port sa'id to be sure there were women there of a kind.
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I wanted to know this girl, least to learn something of her history.
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Calli's gossip had aroused my curiosity, though I did not believe him.
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Calli's great sin was his love for talk and his hatred for bare facts.
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But I vowed to see the girl again. I'll pass. There were briefly
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the days that followed. The very afternoon following my talk with Calli, I
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saw her again, but only a glimpse, since she was gone. Then
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several days passed, and during them I learned more about the girl and her
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father. His name was Denham, a doctor, It appeared with several letters
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tacked after his name, a scientist. Those were all the facts I could
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gather, and what he was doing and had been doing the past twenty years
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was a mystery, collecting bugs, possibly, But Cali and the Black swore
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that it was more than that. By the burial pits of their fathers,
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it was more than that. He was a devil, devil doctor and made
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the milk of the cows turn sour. He was a man which who poisoned
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the swamps and talked with the spiders at evil hours of the night. He
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was also a number of other undesirable things, according to the superstitious Kali,
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who continued to divulge more or less valuable information over my cigarettes. Then came
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the day when I met the girl face to face, and that day I
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learned more than ever before. Though what I heard scarcely satisfied me. The
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girl was timid, and though she permitted me to walk with her a short
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distance, I left her more disturbed than before. Yes, she said she
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was English, though born in Africa, she had never seen England, having
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been no farther than Portsa'id, and then only once whin a mere baby her
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mother. She did not remember her mother, and she had never heard the
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English tongue spoken except by her father. This was practically all she told me,
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but it made me long to hear more. On that short walk with
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her, I learned several important details, not the least important of which was
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the fact that she was even prettier than I had at first supposed, and
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she had been well educated. The professor evidently was an excellent teacher, and
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she had mentioned books, many books. The next morning I was waiting in
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the market place she came. It was more than I had hoped. Why
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bore you with details, gentlemen. I met her again and again and grew
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to know her better than myself. Yes, I was in love and beyond
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that, There's no explanation needed. I'm sure. We talked of many things
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during the first week of our acquaintance, and on one subject only was she
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elusive. Her father. Of her father only, she would not speak when
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I spoke of him. She would turn away with a look on her face,
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much akin to fear. But perhaps I was mistaken. As we grew
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more intimate, it grew upon me that her father, even if he was
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the dreadful being Cali had made him out to be, was at least a
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wonderful scholar. I could read it in this child. She was wonderful in
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most respects. She astounded me with her learning, and then at other times
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she would show an ignorance that was pathetic. The man she called father had
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molded her mind to suit his will. But there is that's something about a
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woman's mind, gentlemen, that no earthly cunning can twist from its course.
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I began to read it in her eyes that she cared for me more than
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her innocence knew. I haven't told you her name. It was Irene Denham.
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I would like very much to meet your father, I ventured one evening.
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Doesn't he know that you are meeting me here? She hesitated. I
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have told him of you, Scott, she admitted, And well he doesn't
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exactly approve. Of course, it's because he doesn't know you, she added
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hastily. But when I suggested that you visit us at our home on the
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Velt, he was very angry. Father is like that sometimes. I think
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he hates all white men. I think it's because he's so wrapped up in
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his work, for the work he has been carrying on for twenty years.
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But tomorrow, Scott, if you will come, I shook my head.
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Not if he disapproves of it, I began, And then I had a
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sudden thought. I would go in Moreover, I would come to an understanding
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this man. Surely I had the right at least, for I was determined
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to take Irene back to England with me. There was no other course open.
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I would see Professor Denham and see him the very next day. I
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told the girl of my plans, and well, gentlemen, I won't go
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into details, but she accepted them. I would meet here in the dirty
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little market place. The next morning, we agreed, and would accompany her
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home. I found CALLI very much worried that night, and when I pressed
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him for further information and told him that I was planning to visit Professor Denham
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the next day, he told me plently that I would soon die. Nonsense,
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Kelly, I laughed, Why I expect to find a respectable old naturalist
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and a fine collection of ants and butterflies. He's harmless in my country,
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no one has ever frightened at their doings. He's what is called a scientist.
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Kelly. One of the black fellow boys from beyond the village told me
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to watch my mules, answered Kelly. He told me also that the white
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witch man has been stealing his cattle. What is he do with the cattle?
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He takes them into dark pits within his great stone house. Tell me
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do butterflies eat cattle? I was getting very angry and could have taken the
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impudent black scoundrel by the throat with pleasure. Hold your tongue, I commanded.
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When I left his hut, CALLI was smoking one of my cigarettes.
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All the same, this really was getting interesting. On the morrow I told
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myself I would know just how much Calli had lied. At the time,
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I put the whole story down as the product of Calli's vivid, if not
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convincing, creative imagination. I was in love the next morning. The morning
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I varnished my boots carefully and put on my best khaki breeches. I would
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have given a small fortune for the white linen ones of the chief engineer,
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but I didn't ne'er ask him for them. It was hard enough to get
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away for the day. Irene was at our rendezvous, and I received the
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thrill of my life when I saw that she had discarded her nun like dress
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fore and more fitting to the occasion. It seemed to me to be rather
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a makeshift affair, but it became her. It brought out beauty that I
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had not thought her to possess. She was a man's woman, was Irene.
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I don't know why, dear, but I dread the meeting between you
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and father. She murmured. We had left the village and were climbing a
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baking sand dune. It won't be so bad, I said, cheerfully.
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My education hasn't been along the same lines as your father's, and perhaps he
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won't be interested in me, yet, perhaps we shall have some things in
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common. A white man, you know, is a white man, and
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even Africa can't change him. I'll wager you that. The first question he
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asked me is have you in old London times with you? White men have
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been near the village before, insisted the girl. Never has he admitted them
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to our home, although one was a scientist like him, an explorer.
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I believe he hates all men, all mankind. True, he finally gave
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permission to bring you, But I'm afraid does he love you? I asked,
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I don't know. There was a time when I was sure he did,
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just as there were times when he would bring out flowers from our garden
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and put them upon my mother's grave. But for many years he has been
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changed. He hates the world he plans to destroy. She did not finish
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the sentence, but stopped, as if a cold hand had been laid across
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her red lips. She paled, and I saw that she was trembling.
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When I pressed her for an explanation, she changed the subject with a frightened,
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pathetic smile. From that moment on, I felt that a chill had
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crept down from the dunes, like a breath from the swamps. We walked
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on in silence. There, she said, when we had reached the top
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of the little hillock, there is home home. So this was her home,
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a melancholy house of stone, crumbling like an ancient ruin. It seems
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strangely at a place here in this desolation, it belonged to Carthage, or
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perhaps to some long dead city, and this child lived here shuddered, even
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though the heat was flickering in waves across the distant felt. Her steps became
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slower as we approached, and she seemed to be laboring under a clutching fear.
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I remembered that the few cheerful and rather idiotic remarks I made fell flat,
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and truly I was in no mood for jesting. As we neared the
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house, I could see half a dozen black slaves working about the crawl,
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and I could see no sign of life within the house. It was fearfully
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hot, and far far to the east, I thought I could make out
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the distant line of the sea, but I knew it was a mirage.
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Well I met Doctor Denham. We had entered the coolness of the hallway,
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and as I stood, wondering what fashed a man it was who had furnished
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this dreary place so well. I saw a smiling face peering at us from
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beyond the draperies, mister Scott, I presume a soft voice, and it
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fitted the man in the semi darkness, which was the nearest approach to comfort
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in sweltering British East Africa. I saw Arvine's father, a man of fifty,
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perhaps, smooth shaven and neatly dressed in white. The mouth under his
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rather hooked nose was curved into a smile, and yet somehow I felt chilled,
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no smile of welcome. That not that there was anything alarming about the
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doctor's appearance, for he was nearly as I had pictured him, with his
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scholarly spectacles and abstracted manner, a naturalist and scientist. He looked his part.
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I bowed. I am very glad to know you, Professor Denham,
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I said, and extended my hand. That hand clasp was like ice.
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Dinham's skin was repulsively cold and moist, like that of a bloated leech.
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I shuddered and looked at the man closely, the eyes the heavy lenses of
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his glasses failed to utterly conceal the serpentine power of those greenish eyes. They
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were at once the eyes of a hypnotist and snake charmer. Though the Profess
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was smiling with his thin lips, the eyes remained icy, and the skin
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across his lofty brows was wrinkled into a frown. I remember that he had
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made a few commonplaces remarks and invited me inside. Dinner he said would soon
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be served. He was happy to have an Englishman for his guest. Yes,
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it was lonely here, but he was fond of loneliness. All the
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time he was talking. I could not keep my eyes from his face.
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There was some mystery here, some strange secret in this man's life, and
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I ree knew of it, for I remembered that little slip she had made
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while we were crossing the sands. She was worried now, and she was
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watching her father with mingled fear and apprehension. If I read aright. At
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dinner, which was served by a good looking black, the Professor talked of
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many things did not like the country. When did I expect to return to
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Cairo and poart sa'id? He asked many questions, and for the first time
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since I met him. I felt at ease. Perhaps I had been mistaken.
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After all, first impressions do not always furnish one with a character guide.
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I warmed up and we talked until late afternoon over our wine. I
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was just about to come to the point and tell him the reason for my
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journey there when he asked me to look at his specimens. Something that you'll
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find interesting, mister Scott, I'm sure, he smiled. I doubt if
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you've ever seen anything like them. It has taken years for me to perfect
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my plans, and it is only recently that I have had any success.
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Do you know anything of bacteriology? Very little, I confessed. From what
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your daughter told me, I thought your experiments were confined to insects. I
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did not know that bacteriology, too, was a hobby of yours. Doctor.
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He eyed me sharply. It's more than a hobby, he said,
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as you will soon see. As for insects, well you will see my
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insects later. I felt much like telling him that he need not go to
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that trouble creeping things that always horrified me, and I had seen quite enough
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of them since I had been working in Africa. However, it was my
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plan to keep him in a good humor until we could reach an understanding.
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So I followed him into a distant portion of the Great House. As far
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as bacteria are concerned, earned I told him, I haven't even as much
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as peeped into a microscope. Professor Denham laughed. Microscope, he leered,
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you won't need a magnifying glass to see my collection? Was the man mad?
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I felt a chill creep over me. We had reached a sort of
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laboratory, and the Professor withdrew a cloth from a glass case. I looked
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over his shoulder then and received one of the shocks of my life. What
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were these horribly squirming things? Not insects? For never in my life and
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I pictured things like these. They were writhing like maggots in a substance that
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appeared to be a sticky gelatine. Some of them resembled scorpions, but most
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of them were rod shaped things the size of my little finger. They were
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moving, moving, never still. What What are they? I stammered in
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an odd voice, but silly chuckled the doctor. You mean germs of disease,
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I asked, horrified, Exactly what do you think of my work?
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I have multiplied them a million times, and so eyes some of these organisms
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literally breathed death. It has taken me twenty years to find the secret,
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and you know what it means. I am the lord of the world.
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It was devilish and I longed to get out of the room. This man
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was mad, surely, Yet here was the hedious proof before me. There
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they are, went on the scientists with a horrible smile. There they are
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till I am ready to use them, safe in the glass case and in
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the culture medium of agar Agar. I wiped the cold sweat from my face
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and told him that I had seen quite enough and was ready to leave.
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Not until you have seen the most interesting specimens of my exhibit of insect life,
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smiled the professor. I wouldn't have you missed that for worlds. I
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wanted to tell him that I wouldn't see another sight like those writhing things in
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his laboratory for worlds either. But I followed him from the room and into
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a corridor. A huge black was waiting for us there well Sahim asked the
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professor in a harsh, metallic voice. The black giant showed his teeth in
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a look of anxiety, the slaves master, he muttered, they threatened to
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fly. They are afraid, and even the cattle whip cannot make them stay
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longer. Some of them will talk unless the doctor whipped a revolver from his
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blouse and handed it to the great Negro. Tell them that I will have
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them thrown into the great pit, he snarled. If they breathe a word,
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kill them Sahim if they do not obey, And as for yourself,
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if you make one slip, a black pit will yawn for your carcass.
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Also, the slave's face twitched with fear, and it was nearly livid when
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he bowed to the ground and backed out of the dank passage on his hands
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and knees. Before I had time to recover from my astonishment, a terrible
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sound echoed at my feet. It was an agonized bellow, ending in a
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gurgling wail, and it seemed to come from a cavern under the house.
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The hair tightened on my scalp at that fearful sound, the death sound of
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some animal in fear and pain. For a moment I heard it, and
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then it died suddenly away into silence. My God, I whispered, what
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was that? I fancy smiled the professor cheerfully that it was an ox.
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Calli's weird tale flashed through my head. Perhaps a talkative black had not lied
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so much. After all, there was a deeper mystery here than I had
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at first imagined, And for the moment my curiosity was stronger than my dread.
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While I followed the bobbing form of the scientist up the passage, I
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turned over my mind all that I had seen and heard. Again I seemed
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to see those horrible squirming things in the glass case, and once more I
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seemed to hear that awful wail an ox. How long would this distorted nightmare
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last? Now, if you'll be so good, murmured the professor, we
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would look over my collection of insects. He had reached a trap door and
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was tugging at the rope that raised it. It suddenly yawned open, and
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I saw the first steps of a staircase leading somewhere down into the dark.
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We'll just leave the door opened so we could see, said the scientist,
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and he led the way cautiously down the wooden steps. With some misgiving.
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I followed, keeping close to his back. The death cry of the ox
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still rang in my ears, and I determined not to lose sight of my
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guide. Three steps, then four, than five. At that moment I
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heard steps on the passage above, and a second later saw Irene's white face
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framed in the square opening at my head. Oh Scotch, she whispered,
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come back, come back. Even as the words left her lips, I
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saw a great black hand placed over her mouth and caught a glimpse of the
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giant Negro, his face distorted by a scowl of rage and fury. I
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leaped up the steps, and as I did so, down came the trap
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with a bang, and I found myself scuttling in the dark with the Professor.
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I fought furiously and was overpowering the wiry little fiend. When I found
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myself hanging over the edge of a black void. Something seemed to whirl me
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closer than I fell. With the Doctor's insane laughter ringing in my ears,
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something strangely yielding broke my fall, something that felt like a suspended mass of
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silken rope. For a moment I was held there, and as the trap
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door was opened above me, I saw the face of the Professor looking down
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at me from above. So this was the pit. I struggled and tried
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to wrench myself free from the tangling bands that bound me for ire in suppressed
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cry still echoed in my brain in vain, I tried to tear myself loose,
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and then as my eyes grew accustomed to the faint light, I ceased.
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The silken strands that grasped my arms and legs were as large, round
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as my thumb, and held me like so much steel. The professor was
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leaning over the edge of the pit. He was speaking, and his voice
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was quivering with rage. Fool, miserable, fool, he mocked. See
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you sought to steal my daughter, did you? And she the future princess
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of the world. I know you're kind, and now I can watch you
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die. Soon you will see my collection of insects. And then at the
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distant corner I could see a huge pair of phosphorescent eyes staring at me through
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the gloom. Then another pair and another. They seemed to appear, as
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if by magic, from some dark recess within the pit. Then I saw
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what covered the floor of the place, bones, bones of cattle and of
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sheep, and in the maze of ropey threads about me hung the carcass of
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a giant ox was being held in nothing less than the web of a monstrous
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spider. I screamed, and as an echo to the scream, I heard
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the throaty laugh of the demented man in the gallery insects, God, great
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bloated spiders, foul and gigantic, were watching me from their awful layers.
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Again, I struggled to wrench myself away, but I fell exhausted. Then
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I saw the hideous monsters begin slowly to advance, and I felt the web
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tremble, as if something of great weight was gliding upon it. Above me,
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into the right was one of the ghastly spiders. I saw its multiple
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eyes watching me as it paused. Fangs shining like pol Ebony protruded beneath those
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terrible eyes. And when I saw the thing perched on the great web,
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ready to pounce upon me, I cried out in horror. The web shook
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again, and I closed my eyes and waited for the dreadful impact. Even
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now, gentlemen, the sight of a fly buzzing his wings and a spider's
25:17
web makes me sick and weak. Why did not faint then, I don't
25:19
know. Perhaps I was too terror stricken, I believed the monster would have
25:23
leaped at that instant had it not been for a cry on the other wall
25:27
of the pit. At the sound, I began to hope again. It
25:30
was Irene. She was descending by a ladder under a large trap on the
25:34
other side, doubtless the one through which the ox had been cast in her
25:40
hand was an axe. Leave me, I shouted, sick with fear for
25:44
her safety. You cannot save me. Back back, But she came,
25:48
and I saw the terrible thing above me turn on its great legs and watch
25:51
her. At that second I heard a yell of fury from the Professor.
25:55
He was descending a rope ladder on the other side of the pit and was
25:57
foaming with rage. The great spider had faced me again, and I could
26:03
feel its legs rasp against the web that held me. I saw that the
26:07
monster was covered with hair, like a huge bear, though no bear was
26:11
ever so disgustingly sickening as this dreadful thing. I felt like a helpless fish
26:17
about to be seized by a bloated octopus. Yet once again it hesitated,
26:22
as if not knowing whether to turn on Irene or the Professor. Irene reached
26:26
me first, and her axe whistled through the air at my feet as she
26:29
cut me loose from the tenacious web. As she did so, the hideous
26:33
monster leaped at her like a steel trap, and with terrible ferocity. The
26:37
spider sprang only to meet Irene's axe. The keen edge of the tool sank
26:42
into its horrible flesh. I wrenched the weapon from Irene's hand and finished the
26:48
awful thing. Saw it writhe out its death struggle, entangled by its own
26:52
web. I struck again and again, and then threw aside the axe with
26:56
a feeling of nausea and disgust. I Ireene clung to me and sobbed.
27:02
Quick I cried as I tore my eyes away from the throes of the monster
27:04
I had killed your father. Look, the unfortunate Professor was pinned under the
27:10
dreadful body of another spider. It had sprung upon him while I was occupied
27:14
with my own troubles. Seizing the axe, I dashed toward him, taking
27:18
care to avoid the treacherous web. I struck at the insect of hell with
27:22
all my strength, and it turned upon me savagely. I saw those awful
27:26
fangs poised above me, As I struck again upward with the axe. My
27:30
blow landed squarely, but it was too late to avoid the knife. Like
27:34
poisoned tubes, something swept into my left hand like a razor. Just as
27:38
the dying and distended body the spider bore me to the ground. I felt
27:42
a fetid, cold breath on my neck, and something flabby and soft seemed
27:47
to encircle my chest. For a moment I lost consciousness. The next thing
27:52
I remembered was the sense of a great weight being removed from my body.
27:56
I groaned and sat upright. Irene helped me to my feet, and she
28:00
was calm, though the dead body of the professor lay not three feet away.
28:06
I had been too late, and the spider had accomplished his deadly work.
28:08
The scientist had been killed by the product of his own insane cunning.
28:14
We made good out escape, and it was well for if another spider well.
28:18
I had reached the limit of my sanity. In the passageway, Irene
28:22
caught a glimpse of my hand for the first time, Scott. She screamed,
28:26
Look, my hand was enormously swollen, and even as I watched,
28:30
I could see a blue discoloration working its way toward my elbow. In the
28:33
excitement, I had forgotten the slash from the keen fangs of the spider.
28:37
I was as good as doomed. Irene still held the axe, and as
28:41
I stood there, shaking like a leaf, she raised her eyes in a
28:45
prayer for courage. I read the answer in her face, and without being
28:48
told, I laid down my swollen arm. Well, gentlemen, it took
28:52
her three hacks to get it off. How the blood was stanched, I
28:56
don't know. For the next thing I remember was being jolted along in an
28:59
ox art bound for the nearest surgeon. A nigger was driving, and I
29:03
was feeling fine. My head was pillowed in Irene's lap. I looked back
29:08
then and saw a red glow against the evening sky. The slaves had fired
29:12
the place and fled. From what I have been able to learn, the
29:17
spiders died in the ruins, for I've never seen a spider any bigger than
29:19
my hands since that day. To tell the truth, I don't want to.
29:25
Irene married me to Cairo, and as soon as I was able,
29:27
we left for England. Now there's a story, gentlemen. You may believe
29:32
it or not waiter, would you kindly bring another bottle of Vermouth? End
29:37
of Section five. The Monsters of the Pit