Chapter Two - Down in Darkest Dorset

Even the greatest of human minds can make mistakes. Only the divine mind of the creator of all is free of error and incapable of fault. And in spite of all their shallow education and cleverness, the evilutionists could make mistakes.

Smith had gone, reduced by the ravages of the way he chose to live - or was perhaps driven to by his desire to corrupt the minds of True Believers™ - to a wasted wreck of his former magnificent physique. Women, drugs, licentiousness of all sorts - there was no facet of human depravity into which he had not submerged himself with the complete abandonment of those driven by the whips of Satanic religion.

And he had overlooked something. He had overlooked True Science™, the science of the Bible.

As the Bible tells us, in the days of Peleg, the continents moved apart to their present configuration. They did so quietly and without commotion beyond some insignificant mountain building, and with far greater speed than the shallow, plodding science which would arise centuries later could explain. These "scientists" of latter days, their minds clouded by the demands of evolutionism to seek for exaggerated time-scales, have not yet reached the understanding of the truth of the Bible. How could Smith have known what they would invent, what they would have to ignore to create their marvellous but shallow stories?

Smith's work had been monumental, and monstrous. It had also been a work in vain.

The earth's crust moves, and it can move quickly. Perhaps the divine hand intervened to overthrow the deceits of the evil one? Perhaps nature intervened to shrug off this affront to dignity.

Down in darkest Dorset, deep forces were at work. The denizen of that dank district, drawn from their dingy dens by the dramatic disturbances, discovered that the familiar landscape was changed. Great quantities of clay deposited by the Great Flood advanced towards the sea, and as they did so, the bones of the denizen of the pre-diluvial darkness were exposed to the light of the sun for the first time.

Here it was. Here it lay exposed for all to see in the light of day, here lay the indisputable evidence for the overthrow of a chapter of creation, the wreckage of ancient seas where disported themselves ichthyosauri and plesiosauri, whose dark and dreadful skies rang to the tormented cries of great leather-winged pterosauri, those ill-visaged demons of the pre-Adamite skies.

The dull-witted locals stood and gazed in awe. It would seem that none would be able to comprehend the true significance of what lay before their eyes, but one of their number, a young, bright-eyed woman whose keen, enquiring mind saw clearly what these bones, these shattered remnants signified, leapt into action.

"Come with me" she cried, and her clear decisive tones moved men into action.. They followed her to the shore, where the great skeleton of an ichthyosaur lay in all its terrible grandeur, still half-covered by the clay from which it had been spawned.

"Dig here. Dig a trench here." She moved amongst the men, urging them to dig. "We must be quick, or the sea will take it."

They looked up, and saw the line of the rising tide. Some turned to seek safety on the rocks, but her voice urged them back.

"We must save this. Our lives, our immortal souls, depend on it."

Her words fell on the ears of simple men, raised to the truth of scripture, and under her urging they redoubled their efforts. Rough seas advanced on the workers, the waves reaching ever closer.

"Dig, dig" she cried. With a Herculean efforts they dug around the monster, and started to drag its great mass to safety. But the wild sea reached ever closer. Water swirled around the booted feet of the men. It looked as if all would be lost.

But then, the wind fell. The seas quietened. The waves no longer lashed against them.

"Saved" she cried, and with a superhuman, final effort they dragged their burden to safety.

Who knows what happened. Was there a divine intervention? Such mysteries are not for the mind of man. All that matters is that this vestige, this remnant of preAdamitic creation was saved for science.

Long she toiled over these old, precious bones, cleaning them, preserving them, and mounting them in a case of fine wood as befits such a precious item.

And then, in her simple hand, she wrote to the leading scientists of the day.

Smith was gone, and his mantle had descended upon the shoulders of his successor. A family of successors, indeed.

And it was to the desk of one of this line that one of her letters arrived.

In his home lived both his wife and his mistress. Their children, the legitimate and illegitimate alike, played, ate and slept together. All morality rejected, they lived this lives of debauchery and lascivious concupiscence disregarding the corruption they wreaked on the simple minds of their offspring. Not content with such activities in his own home, he also attended the orgies of the Hellfire Club, so aptly named for the ultimate destination of its members. Here the pattern was set by which the evil cult of evilutionism would be propagated from one debauched and corrupt generation to the next. |

"Damn Smith" was his first reaction "damn him for botching the job."

He read the letter again.

"Damn him."

He called for his coach, his black coach which ran on silent, well-sprung wheels. Four great black horses drew it at speed beyond that of any other vehicle on the road. He needed to go to Dorset.

The dark coach pulled up in the tiny Dorset village.

"Is there no decent inn in this hell-hole?" he demanded. "Find me a bottle of French brandy, and get find someone who can cook."

He heaved his great bulk out of the coach. Removing his wig, he wiped his the sweat from his glabrous head.

"And fetch me the woman. The Anning woman."

His servants installed him in a local inn. The other guests were simply evicted.

"I do not share accommodation with riff-raff."

The front room of the inn had been set up for his own use. Curtains drawn, a fire heaped in the grate, only a few candles for illumination, the darkness and heat oppressed the mind. He sat in state, his hand holding a goblet of brandy, looking at the figure of before him. Dark, bulky figures stood against the walls in the deep shadows, an unspoken threat. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking in the rough clothing, the dirt of poverty, the features of her face sharply defined by the underlying bones.

Her dark, bright eyes starred back, her will strong. The great body overflowing the arms of the chair, the eyes deeply sunken into the flesh of his face. His gown was open at the neck to reveal the fat rolling down his chins, so that the neck and torso merged into a single bloated mass.

They regarded each other in silence.

"So" he said at last "Miss Anning."

"Dr Darwin."

"You have a specimen for me."

"I have a specimen. You may study it if you wish."

"If I chose to have it for my own, no chit of a girl will stop me."

Her chin rose in defiance.

"It is mine. I rescued it from the sea. I worked hard to prepare it. You cannot simply take it from me."

"Oh?" He gestured, and one of the figures standing against the wall came forward into the light. A huge figure, the fabric of his shirt tight across his broad shoulders, his arms thicker than her waist.

"Meet my servant."

A hand the size of a ham grasped her shoulder. She tried to pull away, but his strength was far beyond hers. The beady eyes in the deep wells of flesh bored into her. His full lips twisted into a smirk.

"I'm hungry." The tone of the voice dropped. He drained his glass, and threw it against the wall. He gestured again, and the hands of the great brute grasped her dress and ripped it apart so that it fell about her waist. She clutched her arms over her breasts, trying to hide her nakedness from his piercing eyes, but her tormentor, grasping her wrists, pulled them apart so that her strong, slender form was displayed to his master's greedy eye.

Tears of shame ran down her cheeks. She twisted against the grip and tried to kick, but he held her easily, hanging from outstretched arms.

"Bring her to me."

As she was half dragged, half carried towards him, there was the click of the latch, and the door opened, letting in the clean evening light.

"How dare you!" he thundered.

"Dr Darwin." It was the dry voice of the tall, straight backed man. "Up to your usual tricks, I see."

"Release her." It was a voice used to being obeyed, and the captor slackened his grip. The woman twisted away, but he grasped her arm in a grip of iron.

"Get out!" Darwin hissed.

"Release Miss Anning."

The tall man stepped forward. The tread of his feet, and the click of the feruled end of his walking stick on the flagged stone floor punctuated the silence. He held out his hand, inviting the woman to come to him, but her captor pulled her away.

"I may be a military man," came the dry, precise voice, "but I prefer to achieve my ends without the use of violence."

The stood like statues, facing each other. Nobody moved. Then the woman was thrown to one side, and her captor lumbered forwards, his great hands reaching for his adversary. There was a swishing sound. The shaft of the walking stick clattered to the ground, and a the point of a sharp, slender blade was suddenly pressing against his throat. He froze.

"Restore her clothing."

Darwin rose to his feet.

"Get him!"

Three more figures came forward, but their intended victim moved quickly. His other hand held a pistol, it's barrel pointing steadily at Darwin's forehead.

"Don't move."

They stood still. The sweat ran down Darwin's face and chest.

"Restore her clothing."

"Do it!" Darwin shouted, his voice shrill with fear. He saw the deadly intensity of purpose in his opponent's eyes.

Released, she scrambled away from her captor to stand behind her saviour, pulling together the torn remnants of her dress as she did so.

"Give her your coat."

He addressed the smallest of the thugs. He complied without question. This was a voice which was to be obeyed.

The sword-tip and the pistol were steady as rock.

"This young woman and I are leaving. If anyone tries to prevent us, I will kill them."

He looked hard at Darwin.

"And if I see you again within a hundred miles of here, you will regret it."


They left the inn, and walked away quickly.

"Miss Anning" he addressed her with clipped formality, "it pains me deeply that such a dreadful thing should have happened to you. I offer you my deepest apology for my late arrival."

"The Lord makes us strong here in Dorset," she replied, "and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have rescued me from a terrible fate. But what brought you to this place at such an opportune time?"

"My friend and colleague, the reverend Conybeare, was in receipt of your letter. He will be arriving shortly. We set off together, but I am accustomed to a rather more military life and arrived here some time ago. I heard that Darwin had arrived, and from my limited acquaintance with him and his associates, feared that they would be engaged in some dreadful act. I sought you in your home, and was told that you had been summoned to his presence. So I moved as quickly as I could, and by good fortune arrived just in time."

He turned to her, and bowed.

"Colonel Birch, at your service."

"I thought that Dr Darwin would be most suitable person to study my specimen," she said, "he has a great reputation as a scientist."

"I'm afraid, Miss Anning, that his reputation is somewhat ill-founded. My colleagues are sincere and honest men, who see nothing but good in others. I, on the other hand, am a military man, and have seem the true faces of men as they strive in combat. I distrusted Erasmus Darwin from the time I first met him. I learned that he has had dealings with the French, and as I have spent my career fighting that degenerate race, such suspicion is natural. I can only imagine that his purpose in coming here was not to study, but to destroy your specimen."

"Destroy it? But why?"

"Because it demonstrates the truth of the Bible, and shows that the word of God is inerrant. Dark deeds are afoot, and I hear rumours of the birth of a new religion devoted to the overthrow of True Christianity, and the destruction of all that stands in their way."

They walked for a while in contemplative silence.

"Let us hope," he said at last "that we can stem the tide."

And in the darkness of his coach, as it raced along the road many miles away, Darwin sat and contemplated the events of the day.

After a while, he laughed out loud.

"The fools" he muttered to himself. "to think that they can stop this. Our time will come."

He laughed again.

"Our time will come."

First posted 12th June 2007
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