“I had this leave,” said Cobb, as he took it from Craft, after the latter had read it, “while I was talking to you last night, but I preferred not to show it to you until this evening. Any time after the first of next month I can leave the service and return when I wish, and my commission will be secured to me.”
Craft and Hathaway both told him that though they thought his undertaking was a very foolish one, nevertheless they would give him all the assistance in their power, as they had promised.
Cobb and his friends talked a little longer on various things to be done, and finally separated for the night; the two latter going home to wonder over this great scheme of their friend, the former seating himself in his easy-chair to deliberate upon the thousand and one incidentals necessary to carry it out.
CHAPTER III
In order to carry into effect this great and ambitious idea, Cobb had commenced operations as early as July.
He knew that he must find some place in which to lay his body, that would be perfectly safe from any possible disturbance. It would not do to select any house, or any particular piece of ground, nor could he go to any island or distant part of the globe.
A hundred years would make such changes that it was impossible to foretell what places would not be disturbed in that time. It was a most difficult problem to solve.
Was there a place on earth that he was sure would not be reached by human hands, and its contents and secrets made known, in a hundred years!
It was imperative that he should find such a place, and with all the assurance that one has in life of anything, that it would remain unmolested. What would not happen in a hundred years! Were he to take the most unfrequented and out-of-the-way place he could conceive of, it might be the very place of all others that would be the first to be explored by some enterprising genius in the future.
Cobb knew this, and realized the necessity of selecting such a spot as would give the utmost assurance that no one would desire to destroy, enter, or molest it in any way.
After many hours of reflection upon the subject, he at last decided upon what he considered to be the best place possible to select—the place that would, in all probability, remain in its primitive state for the period desired.
There was being built upon Mount Olympus, some three miles from the city of San Francisco, by a Mr. Sutro, a generous gentleman of that city, a reduced copy of the statue of “Liberty Enlightening the World,” then in position on Bedloe’s Island, New York harbor.
This statue was to be about thirty feet in height, resting upon a pedestal some forty by thirty feet in area, and twenty-five feet high.
Cobb conceived the idea that such a piece of work would, in all likelihood, remain undisturbed by any and every person for the period necessary for his long sleep. No sooner had this belief taken possession of him than he at once took measures to communicate with the gentleman who had charge of its construction.
A Mr. Bennett was the supervising architect, and this gentleman was easily induced, for a consideration, to undertake the construction of a small chamber within the base of the pedestal. He also agreed that the chamber should be reached through the side by a hinged block of marble fitting perfectly, but movable with ease from the inside, and that the purpose for which it was constructed should never be made known by him.
Mr. Bennett was not aware of Cobb’s true intentions regarding the chamber; it was simply a contract between them that such a piece of work should be performed. Bennett was a man of his word, and was well known to Cobb, who placed the utmost confidence in him; yet, to make it still more binding, he placed him under a sacred oath not to enter the chamber after it was built, or communicate his knowledge of its existence to any living soul, nor to leave any information of it at his death.
While the pedestal was being built, Bennett had one of the largest marble slabs taken out, at night, by workmen brought there blindfolded, and replaced upon hinges, so it would easily open and shut by the pressure of a finger on a concealed spring.
This part of the work having been accomplished, it was very easy to carry out the remainder.
The pedestal being finished and solid, he took workmen there every night, blindfolded, and opening the slab door, cut out the masonry, hauling away the material as fast as it was taken out. Cobb desired that the chamber should be as deep as possible below the center of the pedestal, for security; Bennett made it so by digging down, after entering the base, and lining the sides with heavy brick-work.
The interior of the chamber, after construction, was fourteen by eighteen feet, and in height nine feet and six inches. The floor was made very smooth by a liberal use of Portland cement. The door was so constructed that after an inside catch had been set, it would lock itself upon being closed, and no amount of skill could open it without breaking the marble slab. There was no inlet for light, nor was there any entrance or exit for air.
Such was the finished condition of the chamber, as turned over by Mr. Bennett to Cobb, on the 15th of November, 1887.
Cobb had not been negligent in the meantime, but had gotten many of the necessary things into shape which he knew would be required, for his chamber was to have a great many and a great variety of instruments, all of which would be absolutely necessary to insure success.
Nothing could be done before the 24th of November, for on that day the Statue of Liberty was to be unveiled and turned over to the city of San Francisco by Mr. Sutro.
At last the 24th arrived, and the ceremonies of dedication were over.
As the last citizen left the vicinity of the statue a man came up the hill to view the surroundings. That man was Junius Cobb.
He approached the pedestal and looked carefully over its sides. Yes, it was all right; no one had had an inkling of the secret entrance, or a thought that it was to be used for anything save that for which it had been erected.
Satisfied with his inspection, he passed down the hill, and took the Haight-street cars to the city, leaving them at the corner of Market and Montgomery. With rapid strides he quickly passed down that street to the Occidental Hotel.
Near the entrance of that noted army resort, whipping his legs with a small cane in a most impatient manner, stood Hathaway, as if awaiting the arrival of some expected person.
Cobb at once walked up to him and cried:
“Hello! Hathaway; on time, I see; but where is Craft?”
“Playing billiards in the other room—at least he was there a minute ago; but do you want us to-night?” inquiringly.
“Of course! did I not ask you to meet me here?”
“Yes, I know; but are you going to work so soon? What is the use of doing anything to-night? You know I have a partial engagement for this evening, and would like to keep it;” and Hathaway looked beseechingly toward his companion.
“To me this is business, and I cannot postpone it; if your social duties are so pressing, why, I will have to excuse you.”
Cobb showed the displeasure he felt at the apparent want of interest displayed by the other in what to him was the greatest undertaking a man could engage in.
“Oh, no,” quickly replied Hathaway, noticing the effect of his words upon Cobb; “you do not understand me. I am ready now and at all times to give you my earnest assistance. What shall I do?”
“Go and find Craft, and meet me here in ten minutes;” and Cobb turned on his heel, and passed down the street. Proceeding a few blocks, he hailed the driver of a passing express wagon, who pulled up his team at the curb-stone near where Cobb was standing.