by Oliver Optic
"Let us go back," whispered Tommy.
"No, no, wait," said Elizabeth; "I want to know what will happen."
Crouching below the opening, they waited for what seemed hours. Thebarbarous noise continued, voices were raised in excitement; butpresently the uproar diminished, and finally ceased. Glancing downagain, they saw the natives lying in all sorts of attitudes. Exhaustedby the orgy, drunken with wine, they had fallen into a heavy sleep.
Some of the torches had gone out. Though the illumination was dimmer,the smoke was so much less that objects could more easily bedistinguished. Against the wall at the right hand the girls saw whatappeared at first to be a large bundle. But in a few moments theyrecognized the form of a man--an old man with a long white beard.
"It is the missionary!" whispered Elizabeth, clenching her hands in anagony of despair.
CHAPTER XXI
A DESPERATE ADVENTURE
Heroism is a plant of strange growth. It springs up suddenly,mysteriously, in unexpected places. A simple peasant girl, tending herflocks, hears a Voice; and she becomes a warrior, a leader of men, thesaviour of her country. A maidservant, after a day of scrubbing floorsand washing dishes, is darning stockings in the kitchen when she smellsfire, rushes into the bedroom where the children are asleep, andcarries them one by one through the flames into safety, at the cost ofher own life.
Such opportunities fall to few. The most of us trudge a very unheroicjourney through life. The road may be dusty, with ups and downs,dangerous corners and wearisome hills; but we plod along, keepingpretty closely to the highway, and taking great care at the crossings.It is only the odd one here and there who, by what we call the accidentof circumstance, or by some compelling adventurousness of spirit,strays into the golden fields of romance, and is transformed into theshining semblance of a hero.
Yet the capacity for heroism may be latent under many a sober coat orhomely apron. The town girl who shudders at a cow, the country girlwho trembles at the looming of a motor omnibus, may show under thestress of some high emotion, at the call of some great emergency,qualities that match her with Joan of Arc or Alice Ayres.
Elizabeth Westmacott's life had been very simple and uneventful. Shehad had nothing more difficult to cope with than the ordinary crossesand perplexities of the daily round at the farm. She had never comeface to face with mortal peril, or felt any stern demand upon hercourage and endurance. But as she returned along the tunnel with hersister a great resolution shaped itself within her mind. A white manwas in danger of his life; she would at least try to save him.
She was very quiet when she rejoined the little party in the pit. Itwas Tommy who, quivering with excitement, related to Mary what she hadseen. The younger girls deplored the hapless condition of the oldmissionary; they wished he could be saved, but they felt the vanity ofwishing. Elizabeth sat in silence, thinking hard.
"I must go up and get a breath of air," she said at last.
"I'll come too," said Tommy.
"No, dear, not yet; I want to be alone."
There was something in her tone that set her sister wondering.
"You'll be careful, Bess?" said Mary.
"Yes, I must be careful," was the reply.
Elizabeth climbed up the ladder. She was gone some time; her returnwas announced by a slight rustling thud upon the ground; something hadbeen thrown into the pit.
"What is that?" asked Tommy. "Are you all right, Bess?"
"Quite right," said Elizabeth as she descended. "It is only a lot ofcreepers. We are going to make another ladder."
"Another! We don't want another."
"The first isn't long enough or the right sort. I am going to releasethe poor missionary."
The girls were for the moment speechless with amazement. Then Tommysaid--
"You are mad, Bess; it is impossible. Don't talk such absoluterubbish."
"It isn't rubbish, dear. The savages are asleep. We can let down arope ladder. I will climb down and cut his bonds. He will be safe ifwe get him into the tunnel."
"Oh, how insane you are! We shan't let you do any such thing."
"You are bound to wake them, Bess," said Mary; "you know how lightlysavages sleep. They are just like dogs, and wake at a whisper."
"Not when they have fuddled themselves. I _must_ do it, girls. Ican't bear to leave the poor old man to his fate without trying to helphim. It is possible, and you must help me."
Protest, entreaty, expostulation, were alike vain. Even when Tommy,with an air of triumph, exclaimed, "The hole isn't big enough for youto squeeze through," Elizabeth simply replied, "Then we must make itbigger."
Tommy knew from old experience that her elder sister was rather slow tomake up her mind about anything; but when it was made up nothing wouldturn her. Some people called it firmness, I dare say there was a touchof obstinacy as well. It was evident that Elizabeth was thoroughlydetermined now, and the younger girls at length desisted from theirattempts to dissuade her, and agreed to help.
Leaving Mary to assist Maku and Fangati in constructing a light ladderfrom the creepers she had gathered, Elizabeth set off with Tommy toreturn to the cave end of the tunnel. They had their knives with them.On arriving at the hole, they saw that the natives were still asleep,and several of the torches were almost burnt out. The dimmer lightfavoured their work of enlarging the hole, which, as Tommy had said,was too narrow by several inches for Elizabeth to pass through, stillless the rescued prisoner.
When Elizabeth said that the hole must be made bigger, she had nodefinite knowledge whether it was possible. It was characteristic ofher to form a resolution and then bend everything towards itsaccomplishment. If she had had a favourite motto it would have been"Where there's a will there's a way." Nevertheless, it was with someanxiety that she examined the hole. One side of it was solid rock; itwould be a week's work to make any impression on it with their knives.But the other side was of a more friable character. It appeared to beformed of fragments that had settled down, and become compacted by theweight above. A tentative chipping at this with her knife showedElizabeth that it would not be a difficult matter to scrape away enoughto enlarge the hole by more than a foot.
There was danger in the task. Work as carefully as they might, itwould be impossible to prevent some of the chips and dust from droppinginto the cave. Luckily, none of the sleepers was immediately beneaththe hole; and Elizabeth thought that by working carefully, collectingthe larger chips and placing them on the floor of the tunnel, theymight obviate the risk of awakening the men by the noise of fallingstones.
They set to work very quietly, not daring even to whisper to eachother. By making boring movements with the points of their knives theybrought away a good deal of fine dust, which they took in their handsas far as possible and cast at their feet. Whenever they found that apiece of rock of any considerable size was becoming loosened theyceased work altogether with their knives and worried it out with theirfingers. At such times the fall of a certain quantity of dust into thecave could not be avoided, and more than once they stopped, holdingtheir breath as they listened for some signs of disturbance below. Butall went well. All that troubled them was the terrible slowness of thework. They were certainly enlarging the hole, but every inch seemed totake an hour. Elizabeth wondered anxiously whether they would havefinished before daylight, when it would be too late to go further withher plan.
Thinking of this, her attention strayed for a moment from her work; andbefore she could do anything to prevent it, a large fragment of rockbecame detached, and fell with a crash upon the floor of the cave. Thegirls started back, a cold shiver running through them. They heardvoices, but not so loud or excited as they expected. They dared notlook out at the hole, in case they were spied from below; but theyguessed that only a few of the sleepers had been awakened, and when,after some minutes, the sounds diminished and ceased altogether, theydrew breath again.
Apparently the natives had not been alarmed; such falls of
rock fromthe roof of the cave were probably not uncommon. After an intervalthey resumed their work with renewed courage, not, however, presumingon their immunity, but taking even more care than before. A secondfall might not pass so easily.
They continued at the task for hours. The torches in the cave went outone by one. When only one was left alight Elizabeth looked at herwatch. It was past four o'clock. The hole seemed to her now wideenough to admit any ordinary man: but clearly it was too late toattempt the more difficult part of her plan. She was tired out. Itwould take some time to fetch the rope ladder from the pit, and beforethe prisoner could be released and brought up into the tunnel, daylightmight be upon them. Besides, the feasters would have slept off theeffect of their orgy, and there would be a perilous risk of theirawakening. She thought it best to return to the pit and sleep. IfMaku was right, there was still more than thirty hours' respite, andshe would need all her strength and composure of mind for the finaleffort.
The two girls dragged themselves wearily through the tunnel. Half-waythey heard footsteps approaching them.
"Who's that?" cried Tommy.
"I'm so glad you are safe," replied Mary. "We have finished theladder, though it wasn't easy to make it in the dark, and I was gettinganxious about you."
"We shall have to put it off until to-night," said Elizabeth. "Thehole is large enough now, but it is too late to do any more. We aredead-beat and so terribly thirsty."
They returned to the pit and refreshed themselves with cocoa-nut juice.But this was a poor substitute for water, and when Fangati heard themsay how they longed for water to drink, and to bathe their hands andfaces, she volunteered to climb up and bring full cups from the streamthat ran hard by. There was still an hour of darkness left, soElizabeth agreed, and the young girl clambered up the ladder, carryingtwo of their tin cups. She returned very quickly, and made the journeya second time: the girls, after bathing their heads with wethandkerchiefs, lay down and slept the sleep of exhaustion.
It was high noon when they awoke, ravenously hungry. Elizabeth carriedthe new ladder out into the pit, where there was sufficient light toexamine it. Considering that it had been made in darkness it proved awonderfully successful piece of work, and only needed strengtheninghere and there.
"How will you fix it at the hole, Bess?" asked Tommy. "There isnothing to fasten it to."
"I had thought of that. The only way is to bind the top end of it to along cane or stem--too long to pass through the hole. That will do it,I think. I wish we had our boat-hook."
"Suppose it should break?"
"I am sure that the ladder won't break: those creepers areextraordinarily tough, as you know. And half the strain will be borneby the wall, so that the pole ought not to snap. With God's help weshall succeed, dear."
"I am dreadfully afraid, Bess."
"The only thing I'm afraid of is the savages finding this pit. If theyshould come to it they would certainly notice the newly-trampledground, and I don't think anything could save us then. But we musthope for the best."
The day passed all too slowly. How they longed for night to come!They could not feel easy in mind until they were sure that theirhiding-place was not discovered. Yet the younger girls dreaded thenight equally, for though the first part of Elizabeth's plan was safelyaccomplished, they could not think without horror of their sisterdescending among the savages. Elizabeth's quiet confidence amazedthem. All that disturbed her was the fear that the prisoner might notbe spared until nightfall.
Several times during the day she went to the end of the tunnel andlooked over into the cave. On one of these occasions the place wasempty except for the prisoner, who lay where she had seen him before,motionless. Was he still alive? Had his captors given him food anddrink? She felt an intense compassion for the poor man. Would therebe time, she wondered, to set him free now, before the savagesreturned? She blamed herself for not bringing the ladder with her; butreflected that she could not have known that the cave would bedeserted. Probably by the time she had fetched the ladder and comeback with Maku and some of the others to assist her, the opportunitywould have passed.
But she might speak to the prisoner and let him know that an attemptwould be made to save him. She looked anxiously towards the mouth ofthe cave. Nobody was in sight. No sound came from the exterior. Shemight at least venture to make a sound that would attract the attentionof the prisoner and yet not arouse suspicion if it were heard by thenatives. Leaning slightly over the ledge, she gave a low whistle. Theprisoner did not stir. There was no sign that the sound had beenheard, either by him or by another. She whistled again rather moreloudly. Still no sign. Taking courage she bent still lower, andcalled in a low, clear tone--
"White man!"
She could think of no other form of address. Maku had not told her themissionary's name: she had not thought to ask it.
"White man!" she repeated.
The light was dim, but it seemed to her that the prostrate form moved."White man, do you hear me?" she said, panting, watching the entranceof the cave intently, stretching her ears for the slightest sound.
There came a murmur from below.
"Do you hear me?" she called again.
"Yes," was the answer, in a tone so faint that she could scarcely catchit. "Who speaks?"
"Listen!" said Elizabeth. "Friends are here--English friends.To-night you will be set free. You will have to climb a ladder; do youunderstand?"
"I hear," said the voice. "God bless you!"
"Hush!" said Elizabeth in a quick whisper: she had seen a shadow passacross the entrance. She withdrew her head. A man entered, followedby others, their arms full of food for the night's feast.
She hurried back to the pit, thrilling with excitement.
"He is alive!" she cried. "I have spoken to him, I told him we wouldsave him to-night."
"Oh, why did you!" said Mary tremulously. "Suppose you can't do it!the poor man will be restless all day. The savages may notice it andbe on their guard."
"I am sure I did right," said Elizabeth. "It will be best for him tobe prepared. If he were released without warning he might be too muchovercome to collect himself, and our chance would be lost. As it is hewill know what to expect and be ready to help. Oh, I wish it weredark!"
Knowing how much depended on her calmness and self-possession,Elizabeth tried to sleep, but her nervous excitement made thisimpossible. She employed herself during the remaining hours ofdaylight in testing and strengthening the ladder, and especially inensuring that the loops through which the supporting pole was to passwere strong enough to bear the strain. The pole could not be obtaineduntil the fall of night rendered it safe to issue from the pit. Sheexplained carefully to Maku and Tommy, who were to help her, how theyshould hold the pole in position across the lower part of the hole, andhow, if they found that she had been discovered, they were to draw upthe ladder immediately and remain perfectly quiet. At this Tommy'slips trembled: the idea of losing Elizabeth was dreadful. But shedetermined not to increase the difficulty of her sister's task by anyshow of agitation, and accepted her instructions without a word.
As for Maku, he had all along said nothing either for or against thescheme. He seemed to have lost all individuality and to move like anautomaton at Elizabeth's bidding.
"What is your missionary's name?" she asked him.
He gave a native name which he was unable to translate; the Englishname he had either forgotten or never heard.
As soon as the first shades of evening descended, Elizabeth and Fangaticlimbed out of the pit, and after a little search returned with a stoutsapling, which, when a few inches had been snapped off, gave a rod notso long as the breadth of the tunnel at the farther end, but longerthan the width of the hole. Having fastened the rope ladder firmly tothis, Elizabeth gave it to Maku to carry, and led the way along thetunnel. She had wished Mary to remain with Fangati at the pit, butMary declared that she could not bear to be left behind wondering inthe
agony of suspense, so the whole party set off, Elizabeth impressingon them all the need of perfect silence.
They came to the end. The glare, the acrid smoke, the strident voices,proclaimed that the ceremonies had already begun. Elizabeth gave oneglance into the cave, and having seen that the prisoner was still inthe same position she withdrew her eyes; the bestial conduct of thesavages sickened her. Hour after hour passed. The din was hideous.It seemed that the ceremonies on this second night were beingprolonged. But presently they came to the same sudden end as before.The drumming and the frenzied chant ceased; instead were heard thesounds of men engaged in riotous feasting. Maku was restless; hisfaded eyes lit up. Elizabeth remembered that he must have taken partin similar orgies, and felt a nervous dread lest the excitement shouldcommunicate itself to him, and he should by some sudden outcry betrayhis presence. She laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered--
"Remember your friend there."
The old man gave a sigh, and shrank away from the hole, murmuringincomprehensibly in his own tongue.
As on the previous night, the intoxicating liquor drunk by the riotersproduced its effect in somnolence. One by one they threw themselvesback and fell into swinish slumber. At last there was silence.Several of the torches had gone out and not been replaced. Elizabeththought her chance of success would be greatest if she waited untilonly one or two remained alight. She could not wait for absolutedarkness, for some light was necessary for her task, and she must actwhile the sleep of the natives was heaviest.