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The Burial of the Rats - part 2 · Dracula's Guest & Other Weird Tales

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The Burial of the Rats Part two. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Hayley Flag The Burial of the Rats
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by Bram Stoker, Part two. As noutionalately as I could, I turned
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slightly on my stool so as to get my right leg well under me.
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Then, with a sudden jump, turn in my head and garden it with
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my hands. And with a fighting instinct of the knights of old, I
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breathed my lady's name and hurled myself against the back wall of the hut.
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Watchful as they were, the suddenness of my movement surprised both Pierre and the
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old woman. As I crashed through the rotten timbers, I saw the old
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woman rise with a leap like a tiger, and heard her low gasp of
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baffled rage. My feet lit on something that moved, and as I jumped
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away, I knew that I had stepped on the back of one of the
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row of men lying on their faces outside the hut. I was torn with
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nails and splinters, but otherwise unhurt. Breathless, I rushed up the mound
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in front of me. Herein as I went the dull crash of the shanty
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as it collapsed into a mass. It was a nightmare climb. The mound,
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though but low, was awfully steep, and with each step I took
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the mass of dust and cinders, tore down with me and gave I under
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my feet the dust rose and choked me. It was sickening, fedid,
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awful, but my climb was. I felt for life or death, and
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I struggled on the second seemed hours. But the few moments I had and
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starting, combined with my youth and strength, gave me a great advantage.
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And though several forms struggled after me in deadly silence, which was more dreadful
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than any sound, I easily reached the top. Since then, I've climbed
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the cone of Vesuvius, and as I struggled up that dreary steep amid the
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sulfurous fumes, the memory of that awful night at Montrouge came back to me
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so vividly that I almost drew faint. The mound was one of the tallest
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in the region of dust, and as I struggled to the top. Pattent
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for breath, with my heart beating like a sledge hammer, I saw way
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to my left the dull, red gleam of the sky, and nearer still
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the flashing of lights. Thank god, I knew where I was now and
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where lay the road to Paris. For two or three seconds I paused and
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looked back. My pursuers were still well behind me, but struggling up resolutely
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and in deadly silence. Beyond the shanty was a wreck, a mass of
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timber and moving forms. I could see it well, for flames were already
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bursting out. The rags and straw had evidently caught fire from the lantern.
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Still silence, there, not a sound. Those old wretches could die game
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anyhow, I had no time for more than a passing glance, for as
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I cast an eye round the mound, preparatory to make in my descent,
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I saw several dark forms rushing round on either side to cut me off on
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my way. It was now a race for life. They were trying to
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head me on my way to Paris, and with the instinct of the moment,
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I dashed down to the right hand side. I was just in time
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for though I came, as it seemed to me down the steep in a
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few steps. The wary old men who were watching me turn back, and
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one, as I rushed by into the opening between the two mounds in front,
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almost struck me a blow with that terrible butcher's axe. There could surely
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not be two such weapons about. Then began a really horrible chase. I
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easily ran ahead of the old men, and even when some younger ones and
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a few women joined in the hunt, I easily distanced them. But I
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did not know the way, and I could not even guide myself by the
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light in the sky, for I was running away from it. I had
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heard that on less of conscious purpose, hunted men turn always to the left,
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and so I found it now, And so I suppose knew also my
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pursuers, who were more animals than men, and with cunning or instinct,
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had found out such secrets for themselves. For on finishing a quick spurt,
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after which I intended to take a moment's breathing space, I suddenly saw ahead
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of me two or three forms swiftly passing behind a mound to the right.
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I was in the spider's web now, indeed, but with a thought of
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this new danger came the resource of the hunted, and so I darted down
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the next turn into the right. I continued in this direction for some hundred
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yards, and then taking a turn to the left again, felt certain that
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I had, at any rate avoided the danger of being surrounded, but not
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of pursuit. For on came the rabble after me, steady dogged, relentless
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and still in grim silence. In the greater darkness. The mound seemed now
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to be somewhat smaller than before, although for the night was closing, they
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looked bigger in proportion. I was now well ahead of my pursuers, so
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I made a dart up the mound in front. Oh, joy of joys,
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I was close to the edge of this inferno of dustieps away behind me,
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the red light of Paris was in the sky, and towering up behind
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rose the huh heights of montmart a dim light, with here and there brilliant
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points like stars restored to vigor. In a moment, I ran over the
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few remaining mounds of decrease in size and found myself on the level land beyond.
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Even then, however, the prospect was not inviting. All before me
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was dark and dismal, and I had evidently come on one of those dank,
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low lyon waste places which are found here and there in the neighborhood of
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great cities, places of waste and desolation, where the space is required for
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the ultimate agglomeration of all that is noxious, and the ground is so poor
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as to create no desire of occupancy even in the lowest squatter. With eyes
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accustomed to the gloom of the evening, and away now from the shadows of
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those dreadful dust heeps, I could see much more easily than I could a
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little while ago. It might have been, of course, that the glare
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in the sky of the lights of Paris, though the city was some miles
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away, was reflected here. Howsoever, it was I saw well enough to
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take barrens. For certainly, some little distance around me in front was a
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bleak, flat waste that seemed almost a dead level with here and there the
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dark shimmering of stagnant pools. Seemingly far off. On the right, amid
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a small cluster of scattered lights, rose a dark mass of Fort Montrouge,
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and away to the left in the dim distance, pointed with stray gleams from
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cottage windows. The lights in the sky showed the locality of et cetera.
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A moment's thought decided me to take to the right and try to reach Montrouge.
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There at least would be some sort of safety, and I might possibly
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long before come on some of the cross roads, which I knew somewhere not
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far off, must lie the strategic road made to connect the outlying chain of
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forts circling the city. Then I looked back, coming over the mounds,
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and outlined black against the glare of the Parisian horizon, I saw several moving
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figures, and still away to the right, several more deploying out between me
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and my destination. They evidently meant to cut me off in this direction,
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and so my choice became constricted. It lay now between going straight ahead or
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turning to the left, stooping down to the ground so as to get the
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advantage of the horizon as a line of sight. I looked carefully in that
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direction, but could detect no sign in my enemies. I argued that as
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I had not guarded, or were not trying to guard, that point,
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there was evidently danger to me there already. So I made up my mind
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to go straight on before me. It was not an inviting prospect, and
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as I went on, the reality grew worse. The ground became soft and
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oozy, and now and again gave way beneath me in a sickening kind of
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way. I seemed somehow to be going down, for I saw around me
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places seemingly more elevated than where I was, and this in a place which,
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from a little way back seemed dead level. I looked around but could
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see none of my pursuers. This was strange, for all along these birds
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of the night had followed me through the darkness as well as though it were
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broad daylight. Now I blind myself for coming out in my light tourists suit
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of tweed. The silence and my not being able to see my enemies whilst
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I felt that they were watching me grew appalling, and in the hope of
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someone not of this ghastly grew hearing me. I raised my voice and shouted
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several times. There was not the slightest response, not even an echo rewarded
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my efforts. For a while, I stood stock still and kept my eyes
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in one direction. On one of the rising places around me, I saw
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something dark move along, then another, and another this was to my left,
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and seemingly moving to head me off. I thought that again I might,
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with my skill as a runner, elude my enemies at this game,
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and so with all my speed darted forward. Splash. My feet had given
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way in a mass of slimy rubbish, and I had fallen headlong into a
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reaking, stagnant pool. The water and the mud in which my arms sank
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up to the elbows was filthy and nauseous beyond description, and in the suddenness
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of my fall, it actually swallowed some of the filthy stuff, which nearly
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choked me and made me gasp for breath. Never shall I forget the moments
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during which I stood trying to recover myself, almost faintly, from the fetid
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odor of that filthy pool, whose white mist rose ghost like around. Worst
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of all, with the acute despair of the hunted animal when he sees the
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pursuing pack closing on him. I saw before my eyes, whilst I stood
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helpless, the dark forms of my pursuers moving swiftly to surround me. It's
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curious how our minds work on odd matters, even when the energies of thought
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are seemingly concentrated on some terrible impressing need. I was in momentary peril of
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my life, my safety depending on my action and my choice of alternatives coming
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now with almost every step I took. And yet I could not but think
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of the strange, dogged persistency of these old men, their silent resolution,
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their steadfast, grim persistency, even in such a cause commanded as well as
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fear, even a measure of respect. What must they have been in the
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vigor of their youth. I could understand now that whirlwind rush on the bridge
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of Arcola at scornful exclamation of the old guard at Waterloo. Unconscious celebration had
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its own pleasures even at such moments. But fortunately it does not in any
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way clash with the thought from which action springs. I realized at a glance
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that so far I was defeated my object, my enemies as yet had won.
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They had succeeded in surrounding me on three sides, and were bent on
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driving me off to the left hand, where there was already some danger for
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me, for they had left no guard. I accepted the alternative. It
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was a case of Hobson's choice and run. I had to keep the lower
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ground, for my pursuers were on the higher places. However, though the
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ooze and broken ground impeded me, my youth and training made me able to
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hold my ground, and by keeping a diagonal line, I not only kept
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them from gaining on me, but even began to distance them. This gave
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me new heart and strength, and by this time habitual training was beginning to
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tell, and my second wind had come before me. The ground rose slightly.
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I rushed up the slope and found before me a waste of watery slime,
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with a low dike or bank looking black and grim beyond. I felt
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that if I could but reach that dike in safety, I could, there,
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with solid ground under my feet and some kind of path to guide me,
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find with comparative ease away out of my troubles. After a glance right
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and left, and seeing no one near, I kept my eyes for a
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few minutes to their rightful work of aiding my feet whilst I crossed the swamp.
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It was rough, hard work, but there was little danger, merely
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toil, and a short time took me to the dike. I rushed up
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the slope, exulting, but here again I met a new shock. On
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either side of me rose a number of crouching figures. From right and left,
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they rushed at me. Each body held a rope. The cordon was
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nearly complete. I could pass on either side, and the end was near.
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There was only one chance, and I took it. I hurled myself
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across the dike, and, escaping out of the very clutches of my foes,
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threw myself into the stream. At any other time I should have thought
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that water foul and filthy, But now it was as welcome as the most
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crystal clear stream to the parched traveler. It was a highway of safety.
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My pursuers rushed after me. Had only one of them held the rope,
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it would have been all up with me, for it could have entangled me
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before I had time to swim a stroke. But the many hands holding it
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embarrassed and delayed them, And when the rope struck the water, I heard
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the splash well behind me. A few minutes hard swimming took me across the
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stream. Refreshed with the immersion and encouraged by the escape, I climbed the
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dike in comparative gayety of spirits. From the top, I looked back through
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the darkness I saw my assailants scattering up and down along the dike. The
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pursuit was evidently not ended, and again I had to choose my course.
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Beyond the dike where I stood was a wild, swampy space very similar to
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that which I had crossed. I determined to shun such a place, and
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thought for a moment whether I would take up or down the dike. I
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thought I heard a sound, the muffled sound of oars, so I listened
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and then shouted no response, but the sound ceased. My enemies had evidently
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got a boat of some kind, as they were on the upside of me.
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I took the down path and began to run. As I passed to
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the left of where I had entered the water, I heard several splashes,
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soft and stealthy, like the sound of rat makes as he plunges into the
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stream, but vastly greater. And as I looked, I saw the dark
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sheen of the water broken by the ripples of several advancing heads. Some of
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my enemies were swimming the stream also, and now behind me up the stream,
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the silence was broken by the quick rattle and creak of oars. My
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enemies were in hot pursuit, I put my best leg foremost and ran on.
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After a break of a couple of minutes, I looked back, and
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by a gleam of light through the ragged clouds, I saw several dark forms
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climbing the bank behind me. The wind now had begun to rise, and
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the water beside me was ruffled and beginning to break in tiny waves on the
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bank. I had to keep my eyes pretty well on the ground before me
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lest I should stumble, for I knew that to stumble was death. After
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a few minutes, I looked back behind me. On the dike were only
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a few dark figures, but crossing the waste swampy ground were many more.
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What new danger this portended I did not know. Could only guess then.
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As I ran, it seemed to me that my track kept ever sloping away
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to the right. I looked up ahead and saw that the river was much
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wider than before, and that the dike on which I stood fell quite away,
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and beyond it was another stream, on whose near bank I saw some
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of the dark forms now across the marsh. I was on an island of
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some kind. My situation was now indeed terrible, for on my enemies had
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hemmed me in. On every side behind came the quickening roll of the oars,
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as though my pursuers knew that the end was close around me, on
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every side was desolation. There was not a roof or light as far as
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I could see. Far off to the right rose some dark mass. But
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what it was I knew. Not for a moment I paused to think what
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I should do, Not for more, for my pursuers were drawn closer.
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Then my mind was made up. I slipped down the bank and took to
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the water. I struck out straight ahead, so as to gain the current
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by clearing the backwater of the island. For such I presume it was.
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When I had passed into the stream, I waited till a cloud came,
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driving across the moon and leaving all in darkness. Then I took off my
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hat and laid it softly on the water, floating with the stream, And
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a second after dived to the right and struck out underwater with all my might.
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I was I suppose half a minute under water, and when I rose,
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came up as softly as I could, and turning looked back, there
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went my light brown hat, floating merrily away close behind it came a rickety
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old boat, driven furiously by a of oars. The moon was still partly
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obscured by the drifting clouds, but in the partial light I could see a
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man in the bows, holding aloft, ready to strike what appeared to me
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to be that same dreadful poll axe which I had before escaped. As I
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looked, the boat drew closer, closer, and the man struck savagely.
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The hat disappeared, the man fell forward, almost out of the boat.
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His comrades dragged him in, but without the axe. And then as I
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turned, with all my energies, bent on reaching the further bank, I
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heard the fierce whird of the muttered sakra, which marked the anger of my
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baffled pursuers. That was the first sound I had heard from human lips staring
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all this dreadful chase, and full as it was of menace and danger.
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To me, it was a welcome sound, for it broke that awful silence
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which shrouded and appalled me. It was as though an overt sign that my
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opponents were men and not ghosts, and that with them I had at least
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the chance of a man, though but one against many. But now that
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the spell of silence was broken. The sounds came thick and fast, from
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boat to shore, and back from shore to boat came quick, question and
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answer, all in the fiercest whispers. I looked back, a vital thing
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to do, for in the instant some one caught sight of my face,
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which showed white on the dark water, and shouted Hans pointed to me,
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and in a moment or two the boat was under way and following hard after
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me. I had but a little way to go, but quicker and quicker
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came the boat after me. A few more strokes and I would be on
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the shore. But I felt the oncoming of the boat, and expected every
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second to feel the crash of an oar or other weapon on my head.
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Had I not seen that dreadful axe disappear in the water, I do not
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think I could have won the shore. I heard the muttered curses of those
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not rowing, and the labored breath of the rowers. With one supreme effort
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for life or liberty, I touched the bank and sprang up it. There
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was not a single second to spare for hard behind me, the boat grounded
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in several dark forms, sprang after me. I gained the top of the
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dike, and keeping to the left, ran on again. The boat put
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off and followed down the stream. Seeing this, I feared danger in this
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direction, and quickly turning, ran down the dike on the other side,
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and, after passing a short stretch of marshy ground, gained a wild,
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open, flat country, and sped on. Still behind me came my relentless
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pursuers. Far away below me, I saw the same dark mass as before,
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but now grown closer and greater. My heart gave a great thrill of
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delight, for I knew it must be the fortress of Besetch, and with
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my new courage, I ran on. I had heard that between each and
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all the protecting forts of Paris there are strategic ways, deep sunk roads,
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where soldiers marching should be sheltered from an enemy. I knew that if I
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could gain this road, I would be safe. But in the darkness I
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could not see any sign of it, so in blind hope of striking it,
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I ran on Presently. I came to the edge of a deep cut
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and found that down below me ran a road guarded on each side by a
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ditch of water, fenced on either side by a straight high wall, getting
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fainter and dizzier. I ran on the ground, got more broken, more
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and more still, till I staggered and fell, and rose again, and
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ran on in the blind anguish of the hunted. Again. The thought of
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Alice nerved me. I would not be lost and wreck her life. I
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would fight and struggle for life to the bitter end. With a great effort,
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I caught the top of the wall, as scrambling like a catamount,
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I drew myself up. I actually felt a hand touch the soul of my
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foot. I was now in a sort of causeway, and before me I
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saw a dim light. Blind and dizzy, I ran on, staggered and
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fell, rising covered with dust and blood. Halt Lah. The words sounded
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like a voice from heaven. A blaze of light seemed to unwrap me,
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and I shouted with joy, kiev a la, the rattle of musketry,
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the flash of steel before my eyes. Instinctively I stopped the close behind me.
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Came a rush of my person seers. Another word or two went out
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from a gateway, poured as it seemed to me, a tide of red
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and blue. As the guard turned out. All round seemed blazing with light
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and the flash of steel, the clink and rattle of arms, and loud,
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harsh voices of command. As I fell forward, utterly exhausted. As
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soldier caught me, I looked back in dreadful expectation and saw the mass of
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dark forms disappearing into the night. Then I must have finded. When I
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recovered my senses, I was in the guard room. They gave me brandy,
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and after a while I was able to tell them something of what had
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passed. Then a commissary of police appeared, apparently out of the empty air,
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as is the way of the Parisian police officer. He listened attentively and
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then had a moment's consultation with the officer in command. Apparently they were agreed,
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for they asked me if I were ready now to come with them?
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Where to? I asked, rising, to go back to the dust heaps.
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We shall perhaps catch them, yet I shall try, said I.
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He eyed me for a moment keenly, and said, suddenly, would you
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like to wait awhile or till tomorrow, young Englishman? This touched me to
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the quick as perhaps he intended, and I jumped to my feet. Come
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now, I said, now, now an Englishman is always ready for his
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duty. The Commissary was a good fellow as well as a shrewd one.
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He slapped my shoulder kindly, Brave Garson, he said, forgive me,
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but I knew what would do you most good. The God is ready come.
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And so, passing right through the guard room and through a long vaulted
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passage, we were out into the night. A few of the men in
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front had powerful lanterns. Through courtyards and down a slope and way we passed
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out through a low archway to a sunken road, the same that I had
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seen in my flight. The order was given to get at the double,
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and with a quick springing stride, half run, half walk, the soldiers
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went swiftly along. I felt my strength renewed again. Such is the difference
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between hunter and hunted. A very short distance took us to a low lion
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pontoon bridge across the stream, and evidently very little higher up than I had
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struck it. Some effort had evidently been made to damage it, for the
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ropes had all been cut and one of the chains had been broken. I
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heard an officer say to the Commissary, we all just in time. A
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few more minutes and they would have destroyed the bridge. Forward quicker still,
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and on we went again. We reached a pontoon on the winding stream.
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As we came up, we heard the hollow boom of the metal drums as
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the effort to destroy the bridge was again renewed. A word of command was
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given and several men raised their rifles fire. A volley rang out. There
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was a muffled cry, and the dark forms dispersed, but the evil was
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done, and we saw the far end of the pontoon swing into the stream.
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This was a serious delay, and it was nearly an hour before we
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had renewed ropes and restored the bridge sufficiently to allow us to cross. We
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renewed the chase, quicker, quicker. We went towards the dust heaps.
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After a time we came to a place I knew there were the remains of
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a fire. A few smoldering wood ashes still cast a red glow, but
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the bulk of the ashes were cold. I knew the side of the hut
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and the hill behind it, up which I had rushed, And in the
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flickering glow, the eyes of the rats still shone with a sort of phosphorescence.
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The commissary spoke a word to the officer, and he cried halt.
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The officers were ordered to spread around and watch, and then we commenced to
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examine the ruins. The commissary himself began to lift away the charred boards and
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rubbish. These the soldiers took and piled together. Presently he started back,
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then bent down and rising beckoned me. See, he said, it was
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a gruesome sight. There lay a skeleton, face downwards, a woman by
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the lines, an old woman. By the coarse fiber of the bone.
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Between the ribs rode a long spike like dagger made from a butcher's sharpening knife,
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its keen point buried in the spine. You will observe, said they
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to the officer and to me, as he took out his notebook. That
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the woman must have fallen on hadega. The rats are many here, see
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the eyes gristening among that heap of bones. You will also notice, I
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shuddered as he placed his hand on the skeleton, that but little time was
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lost by them, for the bones are scarcely cold. There was no other
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sign of anyone near, living or dead. And so, deploying again into
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line, the soldiers passed on. Presently we came to the hut might of
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the old wardrobe we approached in five of the six compartments, was an old
24:34
man sleeping, sleeping so soundly that even the glare of the lanterns did not
24:38
wake them. Old and grim and grizzled they looked with their gaunt, wrinkled,
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bronzed faces and their white mustaches. The officer called out harshly and loudly
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a word of command. In an instant, each one of them was on
24:52
his feet before us and standing at attention. What do you do here?
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We sleep? Was the answer? Where are the other chiffonias, asked the
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commissary, gone to work? And you we are on god Piste, laughed
25:08
the officer grimly, as he looked at the old men, one after the
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other in the face, and added, with cool, deliberate cruelty, asleep
25:17
on duty? Is this the manner of the old God? No wonder?
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Then, a waterloo boy the gleam of the lantern, I saw the grim
25:23
old faces grow deadly pale, and almost shuddered at the look in the eyes
25:27
of the old man. As the laugh of the soldiers echoed the grim pleasantry
25:30
of the officer, I felt in that moment that I was, in some
25:34
measure avenged. For a moment, they looked as if they would throw themselves
25:40
on the taunter, but years of their life had schooled them, and they
25:42
remained still. You are but five, said the commissary. Where is the
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sixth? The answer came with a grim chuckle. He is there, and
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the speaker pointed to the bottom of the wardrobe. He died last night.
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You won't find much of him. Burial of the rats is quick. The
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commissary stooped and looked in. Then he turned to the officer and said,
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calmly, we may as well go back. No trace here now, nothing
26:11
to prove that the man was the one wounded by your soldier's bullets. Probably
26:15
they murdered him to cover up the trace. See again, he stooped and
26:18
placed his hands on the skeleton. The rats work quickly, and there are
26:22
many. These bones are warm. I shuddered, and so did many more
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of those around me. From said the officer. And so in march in
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order, with the lanterns swinging in front, and the manacled veterans in the
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midst with steady tramp, we took ourselves out of the dust heaps and turned
26:40
backward to the fortress of Beset. My year of probation has long since ended,
26:45
and Alice is my wife. But when I look back upon that try
26:48
in twelvemonth, one of the most vivid incidents that memory recalls is that associated
26:55
with my visit to the city of Dust. End of the Burial of the
27:00
Rats, Part two recording by Haley, Flag of Texas,