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  The next thing legible after the Greek signatures was the word “ROMAE, A.U.C.,” indicating that the family had now migrated to Rome. Unfortunately, however, with the exception of its termination (cvi) the date of their settlement there is for ever lost, for just where it had been placed a piece of the potsherd is broken away.

  Then followed twelve Latin signatures, jotted about here and there, wherever there was a space upon the tile suitable to their inscription. These signatures, with three exceptions only, ended with the name “Vindex” or “the Avenger,” which seems to have been adopted by the family after its migration to Rome as a kind of equivalent to the Grecian “Tisisthenes,” which also means an avenger. Ultimately, as might be expected, this Latin cognomen of Vindex was transformed first into De Vincey, and then into the plain, modern Vincey. It is curious to observe how this hereditary duty of revenge, bequeathed by an Egyptian who lived before the time of Christ, is thus, as it were, embalmed in an English family name.

  A few of the Roman names inscribed upon the sherd I have since found mentioned in history and other records. They are, if I remember right,

  MVSSIVS. VINDEX

  SEX. VARIVS. MARVLLVS

  C. FVFIDIVS. C. F. VINDEX

  and

  LABERIA POMPEIANA. CONIVX. MACRINI. VINDICIS

  the last being, of course, the name of a Roman lady.

  The following list, however, comprises all the Latin names upon the sherd:—

  C. CAECILIVS VINDEX

  M. AIMILIVS VINDEX

  SEX. VARIVS. MARVLLVS

  Q. SOSIVS PRISCVS SENECIO VINDEX

  L. VALERIVS COMINIVS VINDEX

  SEX. OTACILIVS. M. F.

  L. ATTIVS. VINDEX

  MVSSIVS VINDEX

  C. FVFIDIVS. C. F. VINDEX

  LICINIVS FAVSTVS

  LABERIA POMPEIANA CONIVX MACRINI VINDICIS

  MANILIA LVCILLA CONIVX MARVLLI VINDICIS

  After the series of Roman names there is a gap of very many centuries. Nobody will ever know now what was the history of the relic during those dark ages, or how it came to be preserved in the family. My poor friend Vincey, it will be remembered, had told me that his Roman ancestors finally settled in Lombardy, and when Charlemagne invaded it, returned with him across the Alps, and made their home in Brittany, whence they crossed to England in the reign of Edward the Confessor. How he knew this I am not aware, for there is no reference to Lombardy or Charlemagne upon the tile, though, as will be seen presently, there is a reference to Brittany. To continue: the next entries on the sherd, if I may except a long splash either of blood or red colouring matter of some sort, consist of two crosses drawn in red pigment, probably representing Crusaders’ swords, and a rather neat monogram (“D. V.”) in scarlet and blue, perhaps executed by that same Dorothea Vincey who wrote, or rather painted, the doggerel couplet. To the left of this, inscribed in faint blue, are the initials A. V., and after them a date, 1800.

  Then came what was perhaps as curious an item as anything upon this extraordinary relic of the past. It is executed in black letter, written over the crosses or Crusaders’ swords, and dated fourteen hundred and forty-five. As the best plan will be to allow it to speak for itself, I here give the black-letter fac-simile, together with the original Latin without the contractions, from which it will be seen that the writer was a fair mediæval Latinist. Further we discovered what is still more curious, an English version of the black-letter Latin. This, also written in black letter, we found inscribed on a second parchment that was in the coffer, apparently somewhat older in date than that on which was written the mediæval Latin translation of the uncial Greek of which I shall speak presently. This I also give in full.

  FACSIMILE OF BLACK-LETTER INSCRIPTION ON

  THE SHERD OF AMENARTAS.

  EXPANDED VERSION OF THE ABOVE BLACK-LETTER INSCRIPTION.

  “ISTA reliquia est valde misticum et myrificum opus, quod majores mei ex Armorica, scilicet Britannia Minore, secum convehebant; et quidam sanctus clericus semper patri meo in manu ferebat quod penitus illud destrueret, affirmans quod esset ab ipso Sathana conflatum prestigiosa et dyabolica arte, quare pater meus confregit illud in duas partes, quas quidem ego Johannes de Vinceto salvas servavi et adaptavi sicut apparet die lune proximo post festum beate Marie Virginis anni gratie MCCCCXLV.”

  FACSIMILE OF THE OLD ENGLISH BLACK-LETTER

  TRANSLATION OF THE ABOVE LATIN INSCRIPTION FROM THE

  SHERD OF AMENARTAS FOUND INSCRIBED UPON A PARCHMENT.

  MODERNISED VERSION OF THE ABOVE BLACK-LETTER TRANSLATION.

  “THYS rellike ys a ryghte mistycall worke and a marvaylous, ye whyche myne aunceteres aforetyme dyd conveigh hider with them from Armoryke which ys to seien Britaine ye Lesse and a certayne holye clerke should allweyes beare my fadir on honde that he owghte uttirly for to frusshe ye same, affyrmynge that yt was fourmed and conflatyd of Sathanas hym selfe by arte magike and dyvellysshe wherefore my fadir dyd take ye same and tobrast yt yn tweyne, but I, John de Vincey, dyd save whool ye tweye partes therof and topeecyd them togydder agayne soe as yee se, on this daye mondaye next followynge after ye feeste of Seynte Marye ye Blessed Vyrgyne yn ye yeere of Salvacioun fowertene hundreth and fyve and fowerti.”

  The next and, save one, last entry was Elizabethan, and dated 1564: “A most strange historie, and one that did cost my father his life; for in seekynge for the place upon the east coast of Africa, his pinnance was sunk by a Portuguese galleon off Lorenzo Marquez, and he himself perished.—JOHN VINCEY.”

  Then came the last entry, which, to judge by the style of writing, had been made by some representative of the family in the middle of the eighteenth century. It was a misquotation of the well-known lines in “Hamlet,” and ran thus: “There are more things in Heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.”*

  And now there remained but one more document to be examined—namely, the ancient black-letter translation into mediæval Latin of the uncial inscription on the sherd. As will be seen, this translation was executed and subscribed in the year 1495, by a certain “learned man,” Edmundus de Prato (Edmund Pratt) by name, licentiate in Canon Law, of Exeter College, Oxford, who had actually been a pupil of Grocyn, the first scholar who taught Greek in England.† No doubt, on the fame of this new learning reaching his ears, the Vincey of the day, perhaps that same John de Vincey who years before had saved the relic from destruction and made the black-letter entry on the sherd in 1445, hurried to Oxford to discover if perchance it might avail to solve the secret of the mysterious inscription. Nor was he disappointed, for the learned Edmundus was equal to the task. Indeed his rendering is so excellent an example of mediæval scholarship and Latinity that, even at the risk of sating the learned reader with too many antiquities, I have made up my mind to give it in fac-simile, together with an expanded version for the benefit of those who find the contractions troublesome. The translation has several peculiarities, whereon this is not the place to dwell, but I would in passing call the attention of scholars to the passage “duxerunt autem nos ad reginam avenaslasaniscoronantium,” which strikes me as a delightful rendering of the original, “.”

  MEDLÆVAL BLACK-LETTER LATIN TRANSLATION OF THE UNCIAL INSCRIPTION ON THE SHERD OF AMENARTAS, EXECUTED BY EDMUNDUS DE PRATO IN 1495.

  EXPANDED VERSION OF THE ABOVE MEDIÆVAL LATIN TRANSLATION.

  AMENARTAS, e genere regio Egyptii, uxor Callicratis, sacerdotis Isidis, quam dei fovent demonia attendunt, filiolo suo Tisistheni jam moribunda ita mandat: Effugi quondam ex Egypto, regnante Nectanebo, cum patre tuo, propter mei amorem pejerato. Fugientes autem versus Notum trans mare, et viginti quatuor menses per litora Libye versus Orientem errantes, ubi est petra quedam magna sculpta instar Ethiopis capitis, deinde dies quatuor ab ostio fluminis magni ejecti partim submersi sumus partim morbo mortui sumus: in fine autem a feris hominibus portabamur per paludes et vada, ubi avium multitudo celum obumbrat, dies decem, donec advenimus ad cavum quendam montem, ubi olim magna urbs erat, caverne quo
que immense; duxerunt autem nos ad reginam Advenaslasaniscoronantium, que magicâ utebatur et peritiâ omnium rerum, et saltem pulcritudine et vigore insenescibilis erat. Hec magno patris tui amore perculsa, primum quidem ei connubium michi mortem parabat; postea vero, recusante Callicrate, amore mei et timore regine affecto, nos per magicam abduxit per vias horribiles ubi est puteus ille profundus, cujus juxta aditum jacebat senioris philosophi cadaver, et advenientibus monstravit flammam Vite erectam, instar columne volutantis, voces emittentem quasi tonitrus: tunc per ignem impetu nocivo expers transiit et jam ipsa sese formosior visa est.

  Quibus factis juravit se patrem tuum quoque immortalem ostensuram esse, si me prius occisa regine contubernium mallet; neque enim ipsa me occidere valuit, propter nostratum magicam cujus egomet partem habeo. Ille vero nichil hujus generis malebat, manibus ante oculos passis, ne mulieris formositatem adspiceret: postea illum magica percussit arte, at mortuum efferebat inde cum fletibus et vagitibus, et me per timorem expulit ad ostium magni fluminis, velivoli, porro in nave, in qua te peperi, vix post dies huc Athenas vecta sum. At tu, O Tisisthenes, ne quid quorum mando nauci fac: necesse enim est mulierem exquirere si qua Vite mysterium impetres et vindicare, quantum in te est, patrem tuum Callicratem in regine morte. Sin timore seu aliqua causa rem relinquis infectam, hoc ipsum omnibus posteris mando, dum bonus quis inveniatur qui ignis lavacrum non perhorrescet, et potentia dignus dominabitur hominum.

  Talia dico incredibilia quidem at minime ficta de rebus michi cognitis.

  Hec Grece scripta Latine reddidit vir doctus Edmundus de Prato, in Decretis Licenciatus, e Collegio Exoniensi Oxoniensi doctissimi Grocyni quondam e pupillis, Idibus Aprilis Anno Domini MCCCCLXXXXV°.

  “Well,” I said, when at length I had read out and carefully examined these writings and paragraphs, at least those of them that were still easily legible, “that is the conclusion of the whole matter, Leo, and now you can form your own opinion on it. I have already formed mine.”

  “And what is it?” he asked, in his quick way.

  “It is this. I believe the potsherd to be perfectly genuine, and that, wonderful as it may seem, it has come down in your family from since the fourth century before Christ. The entries absolutely prove it, therefore, however improbable it may seem, the fact must be accepted. But there I stop. That your remote ancestress, the Egyptian princess, or some scribe under her direction, wrote that which we see on the sherd I have no doubt, nor have I the slightest doubt but that her sufferings and the loss of her husband had turned her head, and that she was not of sound mind when she did write it.”

  “How do you account for what my father saw and heard there?” asked Leo.

  “Coincidence. No doubt there are bluffs on the coast of Africa that look something like a man’s head, and plenty of people who speak bastard Arabic. Also, I believe that there are lots of swamps. Another thing is, Leo, though I am sorry to say it, I do not think that your poor father was quite sane when he wrote that letter. He had met with a great trouble, also he had allowed this story to prey on his imagination, and he was a very imaginative man. Anyway, I believe that the legend as it reaches us is rubbish. I know that there are curious forces in nature which we rarely meet with, and that, when we do meet them, we cannot understand. But until I see it with my own eyes, which I am not likely to do, I never will believe that there exist means of avoiding death, even for a time, or that there is or was a white sorceress living in the heart of an African swamp. It is bosh, my boy, all bosh!—What do you say, Job?”

  “I say, sir, that it is a lie, and, if it is true, I hope Mr. Leo won’t meddle with no such things, for no good can’t come of it.”

  “Perhaps you are both right,” said Leo, very quietly. “I express no opinion. But I say this. I intend to set the matter at rest once and for all, and if you won’t come with me I will go by myself.”

  I looked at the young man, and saw that he meant what he said. When Leo means what he says one may always know it by a curious expression about the mouth, which has been a trick of his from a child. Now, as a matter of fact, I had no intention of allowing Leo to go anywhere by himself, for my own sake, if not for his. I was far too much attached to him for that. I am not a man of many ties or affections. Circumstances have been against me in this respect, and men and women shrink from me, or at least I fancy that they do, which comes to the same thing, thinking, perhaps, that my somewhat forbidding exterior is a key to my character. Rather than be thus shunned I have, to a great extent, retired from society, and cut myself off from those opportunities which with most men result in the formation of ties more or less intimate. Therefore Leo was all the world to me—brother, child, and friend—and until he wearied of me, where he went there I should go too. But, of course, it would not do to let him see how great a hold he had over me; so I cast about for some means whereby I might surrender with a good grace.

  “Yes, I shall go, Uncle,” he repeated; “and if I don’t find the ‘rolling Pillar of Life,’ at any rate I shall get some first-class shooting.”

  Here was my opportunity, and I took it.

  “Shooting?” I said. “Ah! yes; I never thought of that. It must be a very wild stretch of country, and full of big game. I have always wanted to kill a buffalo before I die. Do you know, my boy, I don’t believe in the quest, but I do believe in big game, and really on the whole, if, after thinking it over, you make up your mind to start, I will take a holiday, and come with you.”

  “Ah,” said Leo, “I thought that you would not lose such a chance. But how about money? We shall want a good lot.”

  “You need not trouble about that,” I answered. “There is all your income which has been accumulating for years, and besides that I have saved two-thirds of what your father left to me, as I consider, in trust for you. There is plenty of cash.”

  “Very well, then, we may as well stow these things away and go up to town to see about our guns. By the way, Job, are you coming too? It’s time you began to see the world.”

  “Well, sir,” answered Job, stolidly, “I don’t hold much with foreign parts, but if both you gentlemen are going you will want somebody to look after you, and I am not the man to stop behind after serving you for twenty years.”

  “That’s right, Job,” said I. “You won’t find out anything wonderful, but you will get some good shooting. And now look here, both of you. I won’t have a word said to a living soul about this nonsense,” and I pointed to the potsherd. “If it were known, and anything happened to me, my next of kin would dispute my will on the ground of insanity, and I should become the laughing-stock of Cambridge.”

  That day three months we were on the ocean, bound for Zanzibar.

  *Nekht-nebf, or Nectanebo II, the last native Pharaoh of Egypt, fled from Ochus to Ethiopia, B.C. 339.—EDITOR.

  *The cartouche, if it be a true cartouche, cannot have been that of Kallikrates, as Mr. Holly suggests. Kallikrates was a priest and not entitled to a cartouche, which was the prerogative of Egyptian royalty, though he might have inscribed his name or title upon an oval.—EDITOR.

  *Another thing that makes me fix the date of this entry at the middle of the eighteenth century is that, curiously enough, I have an acting copy of “Hamlet,” written about 1740, in which these two lines are misquoted almost exactly in the same way, and I have little doubt but that the Vincey who wrote them on the potsherd heard them so misquoted at that date. Of course, the true reading of the lines is:—

  There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

  Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.—L. H. H.

  †Grocyn, the instructor of Erasmus, studied Greek under Chalcondylas the Byzantine at Florence, and first lectured in the Hall of Exeter College, Oxrford, in 1491.—EDITOR.

  IV

  THE SQUALL

  How different is the scene whereof I have now to tell from that which has just been told! Gone are the quiet college rooms, gone the wind-swayed English elms, the cawing rooks, and the familiar volumes on the shelves, and
in their place there rises a vision of the great calm ocean gleaming in shaded silver lights beneath the beams of a full African moon. A gentle breeze fills the huge sail of our dhow, and draws us through the water that ripples musically against her sides. Most of the men are sleeping forward, for it is near midnight, but a stout swarthy Arab, Mahomed by name, stands at the tiller, lazily steering by the stars. Three miles or more to our starboard is a low dim line. It is the Eastern shore of Central Africa. We are running to the southward, before the north-east monsoon, between the mainland and the reef that for hundreds of miles fringes this perilous coast. The night is quiet, so quiet that a whisper can be heard fore and aft the dhow; so quiet that a faint booming sound rolls across the water to us from the distant land.

  The Arab at the tiller holds up his hand, and says one word:—“Simba (lion)!”

  We all sit up and listen. Then it comes again, a slow, majestic sound that thrills us to the marrow.

  “To-morrow by ten o’clock,” I say, “we ought, if the captain is not out in his reckoning, which I think very probable, to make this mysterious rock with a man’s head, and begin our shooting.”

  “And begin our search for the ruined city and the Fire of Life,” corrected Leo, taking his pipe from his mouth, and laughing a little.

  “Nonsense!” I answered. “You were airing your Arabic with that man at the tiller this afternoon. What did he tell you? He has been trading (slave trading probably) up and down these latitudes for half of his iniquitous life, and once landed on this very ‘man’ rock. Did he ever hear anything of the ruined city or the caves?”