Now the level had sunk so far that the broken mast of the old wreck was climbing into the air, its weeds hanging limply from it as they lost their liquid support. Jeff hastened forward, eager to see what wonders would be uncovered next.
It was then that he noticed the sound from the reef. He had never heard anything like it before, and he stopped to think the matter over, his bare feet slowly sinking into the moist sand. A great fish was thrashing in its death agonies a few metres away, but Jeff scarcely noticed it. He stood, alert and listening, while the noise from the reef grew steadily around him.
It was a sucking, gurgling sound, as of a river racing through a narrow channel. It was the voice of the reluctantly retreating sea, angry at losing, even for a moment, the lands it rightfully possessed. Through the graceful branches of the coral, through the hidden submarine caves, millions of tons of water were draining out of the lagoon into the vastness of the Pacific.
Very soon, and very swiftly, they would return.
One of the salvage parties, hours later, found Jeff on a great block of coral that had been hurled twenty metres above the normal water level. He did not seem particularly frightened, though he was upset over the loss of his bicycle. He was also very hungry, as the partial destruction of the causeway had cut him off from home. When rescued he was contemplating swimming back to Athens, and, unless the currents had changed drastically, would doubtless have managed the crossing without much trouble.
Jean and George had witnessed the whole sequence of events when the tsunami hit the island. Though the damage to the low-lying areas of Athens had been severe, there had been no loss of life. The seismographs had been able to give only fifteen minutes' warning, but that had been long enough to get everyone above the danger line. Now the Colony was licking its wounds and collecting together a mass of legends that would grow steadily more hair-raising through the years to come.
Jean burst into tears when her son was restored to her, for she had quite convinced herself that he had been swept out to sea. She had watched with horrified eyes as the black and foam-capped wall of water had moved roaring in from the horizon to smother the base of Sparta in spume and spray. It seemed incredible that Jeff could have reached safety in time.
It was scarcely surprising that he could not give a very rational account of what had happened. When he had eaten and was safely in bed, Jean and George gathered by his side.
“Go to sleep, darling, and forget all about it,” said Jean. “You're all right now.”
“But it was fun, Mummy,” protested Jeff. “I wasn't really frightened.”
“That's fine,” said George. “You're a brave lad, and it's a good thing you were sensible and ran in time. I've heard about these tidal waves before. A lot of people get drowned because they go out on the uncovered beach to see what's happened.”
“That's what I did,” confessed Jeff. “I wonder who it was helped me?”
“What do you mean? There wasn't anyone with you. The other boys were up the hill.” Jeff looked puzzled.
“But someone told me to run.” Jean and George glanced at each other in mild alarm.
“You mean—you imagined you heard something?”
“Oh, don't bother him now,” said Jean anxiously, and with a little too much haste. But George was stubborn.
“I want to get to the bottom of this. Tell me just what happened, Jeff.”
“Well, I was right down the beach, by that old wreck, when the voice spoke.”
“What did it say?”
“I can't quite remember, but it was something like `Jeffrey, get up the hill as quickly as you can. You'll be drowned if you stay here. I'm sure it called me Jeffrey, not Jeff. So it couldn't have been anyone I knew.”
“Was it a man's voice? And where did it come from?”
“It was ever so close beside me. And it sounded like a man. . ” Jeff hesitated for a moment, and George prompted him.
“Go on—just imagine that you're back on the beach, and tell us exactly what happened.”
“Well, it wasn't quite like anyone I've ever heard talking before. I think he was a very big man.”
“Is that all the voice said?”
“Yes—until I started to climb the hill. Then another funny thing happened. You know the path up the cliff?”
“Yes.”
“I was running up that, because it was the quickest way. I knew what was happening now, for I'd seen the big wave coming in. It was making an awful noise, too. And then I found there was a great big rock m the way. It wasn't there before, and I couldn't get past it.”
“The 'quake must have brought it down,” said George.
“Shush! Go on, Jeff.”
“I didn't know what to do, and I could hear the wave coming closer. Then the voice said 'Close your eyes, Jeffrey, and put your hand in front of your face. It seemed a funny thing to do, but I tried it. And then there was a great flash—I could feel it all over—and when I opened my eyes the rock was gone.”
“Gone?”
“That's right—it just wasn't there. So I started running again, and that's when I nearly burnt my feet, because the path was awful hot. The water hissed when it went over it, but it couldn't catch me then—I was too far up the cliff. And that's all. I came down again when there weren't any more waves. Then I found that my bike had gone, and the road home had been knocked down.”
“Don't worry about the bicycle, dear,” said Jean, squeezing her, son thankfully. “We'll get you another one. The only thing that matters is that you're safe. We won't worry about how it happened.”
That wasn't true, of course, for the conference began immediately they had left the nursery. It decided nothing, but it had two sequels. The next day, without telling George, Jean took her small son to the Colony's child psychologist. He listened carefully while Jeff repeated his story, not in the least over-awed by his novel surroundings. Then, while his unsuspecting patient rejected seriatim the toys in the next room, the doctor reassured Jean.
“There's nothing on his card to suggest any mental abnormality. You must remember that he's been through a terrifying experience, and he's come out of it remarkably well. He's a highly imaginative child, and probably believes his own story. So just accept it, and don't worry unless there are any later symptoms. Then let me know at once.”
That evening, Jean passed the verdict on to her husband. He did not seem as relieved as she had hoped, and she put it down to worry over the damage to his beloved theatre. He just grunted “That's fine,” and settled down with the current issue of Stage and Studio. It looked as if he had lost interest in the whole affair, and Jean felt vaguely annoyed with him.
But three weeks later, on the first day that the causeway was reopened, George and his bicycle set off briskly towards Sparta. The beach was still littered with masses of shattered coral, and in one place the reef itself seemed to have been breached. George wondered how long it would take the myriads of patient polyps to repair the damage.
There was only one path up the face of the cliff, and when he had recovered his breath George began the climb. A few dried fragments of weed, trapped among the rocks, marked the limit of the ascending waters.
For a long time George Greggson stood on that lonely track, staring at the patch of fused rock beneath his feet. He tried to tell himself that it was some freak of the long-dead volcano, but soon abandoned this attempt at self-deception. His mind went back to that night, years ago, when he and Jean had joined that silly experiment of Rupert Boyce's. No one had ever really understood what had happened then, and George knew that in some unfathomable way these two strange events were linked together. First it had been Jean, now her son. He did not know whether to be glad or fearful, and in his heart he uttered a silent prayer:
“Thank you, Karellen, for whatever your people did for Jeff. But I wish I knew why they did it.”
He went slowly down to the beach, and the great white gulls wheeled around him, annoyed because he had brought no food to throw them as they circled in the sky.
