The Pirate Island

by Harry Collingwood

  Evelin thought the matter over for a minute or two.

  “I am afraid not,” he said at last. “I have not the slightest doubt about our being able to collect a sufficient quantity of gold; the ground seems to be absolutely gorged with it; but the difficulty would be in the effecting of an arrangement by which these fellows would be persuaded to release us after the payment of the ransom. They would take the gold and afterwards simply break faith with us. No; our services are of too much value to them, unluckily, for them ever to voluntarily permit our departure; and we shall therefore have to follow out our original plan of escape, if possible—unless a better offers. But we will endeavour to possess ourselves of some of this enormous wealth; and we must trust to chance for the opportunity to convey it away with us.”

  They were now near the head of the ravine, which seemed to terminate in a sort of cul-de-sac, a huge reef of auriferous rock jutting out of the ground and forming an almost perpendicular wall across the end of the ravine. On reaching the base of this wall, the tiny stream they had been following was found to have its source a yard or two from the face of the rock, bubbling up out of the ground in the midst of a little pool some three yards across. It was near this spot, therefore, in all probability, that the precious metal would be found in richest abundance. Lance accordingly began to look around him for indications of the direction in which he ought to search.

  About ten feet up the face of the rock-wall he saw what appeared to be a fissure in the stone; and, thinking it possible that an examination of this fissure might aid him, he, with some difficulty managed to scramble up to it. When he reached the spot he found, however, instead of a mere fissure or crack in the rock, as he had imagined, a wide projecting shoulder of the reef which artfully masked a low narrow recess. Penetrating into this recess, Lance found that, after he had proceeded two or three yards, the walls widened out, and the whole place had the appearance of being the entrance to a subterranean cavern.

  Thinking that, if such were indeed the case, the discovery might prove of great value, as affording the party a perfectly secure place of refuge in case of necessity, he emerged once more, and, discovering from his more elevated stand-point an easy means of descent, hastened down to Blanche, and, informing her of his discovery, requested her to sit down and rest whilst he completed his explorations. He then looked about him for something to serve the purpose of a torch, and at length found a fragment of dry wood, which on being ignited promised to burn steadily enough for his purpose. Armed with this he was about to reascend the face of the rock when Blanche begged that she might be allowed to accompany him, as she was sure she would feel lonely sitting out there by herself. Lance accordingly gave her his hand, and without any very great difficulty managed to get her safely up on the narrow platform in front of the opening.

  Relighting his torch, which he had extinguished after satisfying himself that it would burn properly, Lance led the way into the cleft; holding his brand well before him and as high as possible, and giving his disengaged hand to Blanche, who suffered from the disadvantage of being in total darkness, her lover’s bulky form almost entirely filling up the narrow passage they were traversing, and completely eclipsing the light. Soon, however, they found the walls receding from them on either side, the roof rising at the same time; and when they had penetrated some fifty or sixty yards they were able to walk side by side. It was a curious place in which they found themselves. The rocky walls, which met overhead like an arch, were composed entirely of auriferous quartz, the gold gleaming in it here and there in long thin flakes. The passage sloped gently upward, whilst it at the same time swept gradually round toward the right hand; and though the air was somewhat close, there was an almost utter absence of that damp earthy smell which is commonly met with in subterranean chambers.

  As they continued on their way the rocks about them gradually underwent a change, the gold no longer showing in thin detached thread-like layers, but glittering in innumerable specks and tiny nodules all over the surface, so that, as the flickering uncertain light of the torch fell upon the walls, they glistened as though covered with an unbroken coating of gold-leaf.

  But this novel appearance, attractive as it was, was nothing to the surprise which awaited them further on. They had penetrated some eight or nine hundred yards, perhaps, into the bowels of the earth, and were thinking of returning, when they suddenly emerged from the passage into a vast cavern, so spacious in all its dimensions that their tiny light quite failed to reveal the farther side or the roof. But what little they did see was sufficient to root them to the ground, speechless for the moment with wonder and admiration.

  The rocky floor upon which they stood was smooth as a marble pavement, apparently from attrition by the action of water through countless centuries, though the place was now perfectly dry. What chiefly excited their admiration, however, was the circumstance that the floor was not only smooth, it was as polished as glass, and in places quite transparent, while it glowed and sparkled with all the colours of the rainbow. They seemed to be standing on a surface of purest crystalline ice, seamed, streaked, veined, and clouded in the most marvellous and fantastic manner with every conceivable hue, through and into which the faint light of their torch gleamed, flashed, and sparkled with an effect of indescribable splendour.

  “Oh, Lance!” whispered Blanche at last, “was ever anything so lovely seen before?”

  “A perfect palace of the gnomes, darling, is it not?” returned Lance in his usual tone of voice; and then they stood awe-struck and enthralled, as his words were caught up by countless echoes and flung backward and forward, round and round, and in the air above them, in as many different tones, from a faint whisper far overhead to deep sonorous musical bell-like notes reverberating round the walls and echoing away and away, farther and farther, fainter and fainter, until at last, after an interminable time, as it seemed to them, the sounds died completely away and silence reigned once more.

  “It is marvellous! superb!” whispered Evelin, not caring to again arouse the echoes of the place. “Come, Blanche, sweetheart, let us explore a little further while our torch still holds out.”

  Hand in hand, and with cautious steps—for the floor was almost as slippery as ice—they began to make the tour of this fairy-like cavern; but they had not proceeded a dozen steps before they were again arrested, spell-bound. The walls, as far as the feeble light of the torch would reveal them, were of rock of the same character as the floor; only that instead of being smooth and even they were broken up into fantastic projections of every imaginable form, while here and there huge masses started boldly out from the face, forming flying buttresses with projecting pinnacles and elaborate carved-work, all executed by Nature’s own hand; while elsewhere there clustered columns, so regular and perfect in their shape that they might have been transferred with scarcely a finishing touch of the chisel to the aisles of a cathedral. Where the light happened to fall upon these the effect was bewilderingly beautiful, the rays being reflected and refracted from and through the crystals of which they were composed until they shone and sparkled like columns of prismatic fire.

  Then a new wonder revealed itself; for, on approaching more closely to the glittering walls, it became apparent that they were seamed with wide cracks here and there, the cracks being filled with a cement-like substance, so thickly studded with nuggets of gold of all sizes, that in less than five minutes a man might have gathered more than he could carry away. Passing along the walls, Lance found that it was everywhere the same, and that in stumbling upon this subterranean palace of the fairies they had also discovered a mine of incalculable wealth.

  Hastily gathering a few of the finest nuggets within reach, they set out to return.

  They had apparently made the entire circuit of the cavern, for there close to them yawned the black mouth of a passage. This was fortunate; as the torch had now burned so low that Lance saw with consternation it would be necessary for them to make the greater part of their return journey in
darkness.

  “But never mind, Blanche darling,” he said cheerfully, remarking upon this unpleasant circumstance. “It is all plain sailing; there are no obstacles in our way; and if we have to grope slowly along, still the marvellous sight we have seen is well worth so trifling a penalty. Give me your hand, sweetheart, and let us get into the passage, for I shall have to abandon the light, it is scorching my fingers as it is.”

  Blanche silently gave her hand to her lover, a trifle nervous at having to traverse so long a distance in impenetrable darkness, and buried—who knew how deep—beneath the surface. Buried! The idea was a most unpleasant one just then; and she shuddered as they plunged hand in hand into the passage, Lance at the same moment flinging the charred stump of the burnt-out torch back into the great cavern behind them.

  Cautiously they groped their way onward, Lance feeling his way along the wall of the passage, and making sure of his footing at every step by passing his foot lightly forward over the ground before advancing.

  In this manner the pair proceeded for what seemed to them a considerable length of time—at least Blanche thought it so, for at last she said with a slight tremor in her voice—

  “How much longer do you think we shall be, Lance! Surely we cannot be very far from the entrance now.”

  “No, we must be getting pretty close to it,” said Lance; “but surely you are not feeling frightened, little woman?”

  “Not exactly frightened,” answered Blanche; “but this terrible darkness and this awful silence makes me nervous. It seems so dreadful to be groping one’s way like this, without being able to see where one is going; and then I have a stupid feeling that the rocks above us may give way at any moment and bury us.”

  “Not much fear of that,” said Lance with a laugh, which went echoing and reverberating along the passage in such a weird unearthly manner that Blanche clung to her companion in terror. “These rocks,” he continued, “have supported for years—probably centuries—the weight above them, and it is not at all likely they will give way just now without any cause. I daresay the time does seem long to you, darling, but you must remember we are walking at a much slower pace now than we were when we passed over the ground before. Of course we might walk faster, since we know the ground to be tolerably even and regular; still it is best to be cautious; if either of us happens to stumble here in the dark we might receive a rather severe blow. However, keep up your courage, we cannot be very much longer now.”

  Once more they continued their way in silence, the ground sloping gently downwards all the while, as they could tell notwithstanding the darkness; and still no welcome ray of daylight appeared in the distance to tell them that they were approaching their journey’s end.

  At length a vague and terrible fear began to make itself felt in Lance’s own mind. Recalling the incidents of their inward journey, he tried to reckon the time which they had occupied in passing from the open air along the gallery into the great cavern, and he considered that they could not possibly have been longer than twenty minutes, probably not as long as that. But it seemed to him that they had been groping there in the intense darkness for two hours at least! No, surely it could not be so long as that; the darkness made the time lag heavily. But if they had been there only one hour, they ought by this time to have reached daylight once more, slowly as they had been moving. Surely they had not—oh, no, it was not possible—it could not be possible—and yet—merciful God! what if they had by some dreadful mischance lost their way.

  The strong man felt the beads of cold perspiration start out upon his forehead as the dreadful indefinable haunting fear at length took shape and presented itself before his mind in all its grisly horror. He had faced Death often enough to look him in the face now or at any time without fear; but to meet him thus—to wander on and on in the thick darkness, to grope blindly along the walls of this huge grave until exhaustion came and compelled them to lie down and die—never to look again upon the sweet face of nature—never again to have their eyes gladdened by the blessed light of the sun or the soft glimmer of the star-lit heavens—to vanish from off the face of the earth, and to pass away from the ken of their friends, leaving no sign, no clue of their whereabouts or of their fate—oh, God! it was too horrible.

  Not for himself; no, if it were God’s will that thus he must die he had courage enough to meet his fate calmly and as a brave man should. Thank God, he had so lived that, let death come upon him never so suddenly, he could not be taken unawares. Lance Evelin was by no means a saint; he knew it and acknowledged it in this dread hour; but he had always striven honestly and honourably to do his duty, whatever it might be, with all his strength; and then, too, like the apostle, he knew in Whom he trusted.

  No, Lance was not afraid of death on his own account; it was for the weak timorous girl by his side that all his sympathies were aroused. Doubtless she too possessed a faith firm enough to enable her to meet her fate undismayed—he believed she did; but what terrible bodily suffering must she pass through before the end came.

  But perhaps, after all, he was alarming himself unnecessarily; even now they might be within a few yards of the outlet and yet not be able to see it, because, as he suddenly remembered, the passage was curved from its very commencement.

  But then, he also remembered, the passage at its outer end was so narrow that Blanche had to walk behind him, and here they were, walking hand in hand and side by side, as they had been ever since they had entered this interminable passage.

  “Blanche,” said he, steadying his voice as well as he could, “put out your hand, dear, and see whether you can reach the right-hand wall.”

  He felt her lean away from him, and then came her reply in a broken voice—

  “No, Lance, I cannot.”

  “Why, pet,” he exclaimed, “I really believe you are crying.”

  “Yes, I am,” she acknowledged. “Forgive me, Lance dear, I really cannot help it; I shall be better by and by, perhaps, but—oh! it is so dreadful. You are very brave, and very good to me, but I know you must have realised it before now—the dreadful truth that we are lost here.”

  “Tut, tut; nonsense, child,” Lance answered cheerily; “why, Blanche, you will get quite unnerved if you suffer such thoughts to take possession of you. There, lay your head on my shoulder, darling, and have your cry comfortably out; you will feel better and braver afterwards.”

  He put his arm round her as he spoke; and the poor frightened girl laid her head upon his breast, trustfully as a child, and sobbed as though her heart would break.

  Her companion let her sob on unchecked; he did not even say a word to comfort her—what could he say, with that frightful suspicion every moment gathering force and strengthening itself into certainty? No; better not to say anything; better not to buoy her up with delusive hopes; and, oh! how thankful he felt that the terrible task of breaking to her the news of their awful position had been spared him.

  The sobs gradually grew less violent, and at length ceased altogether. Then Blanche raised her head and said quietly—

  “Now, Lance, I am better, and feel able to listen to the worst you can tell me. I will not ask you to give me your candid opinion of our position, because I know it is—it must be the same as my own. But what do you propose that we should do?”

  “Well,” said Lance, as cheerily as he could, “the first thing I intend to do is to light a match and take a glance at our surroundings. It was stupid of me that I did not think of doing so before.”

  He drew a box of matches from his pocket—being a smoker he was never by any chance without them—and the next moment a sharp rasping noise was heard, and a tiny flame appeared. The light, however, was too feeble to penetrate that Egyptian darkness; they saw nothing but each other’s faces; hers pale, with wide-open, horror-stricken eyes; and his, with contracted brow and firmly compressed lips, indicative of an unconquerable determination to struggle to the last against this dreadful fate which menaced them.

  “This will not
do,” said he; “we must improvise a better torch than this.”

  He fumbled once more in his pockets, and presently found a sheet or two of paper on which he remembered jotting down some notes relative to matters connected with the construction of the battery. These he folded very carefully; so loosely as to burn well, yet tightly enough to burn slowly and so give them an opportunity for at least a momentary glance round them. Then he struck another match, applied it to one of the tiny torches, and raised the light aloft.

  As he did so, Blanche uttered a piercing shriek, and seizing him by the arm, dragged him back against the rocky wall of the passage. Then, pointing before her, she gasped—

  “Look, Lance; look!”

  Lance looked in the direction toward which she pointed, and grew faint and sick as he saw that they had been standing on the very verge of a precipice. A stone, dislodged by Blanche’s hasty movement had rolled over the edge, and they now heard it bounding with a loud echoing clang down the face of the rock, down, down, down, the sound, loud at first, growing fainter and fainter, until at last a dull muffled splash told that it had reached water more than a hundred fathoms below.

  * * *

  * * *

  Chapter Sixteen.

  Blanche and her lover have to swim for it.

  “Stand close against the wall, Blanche, and do not move,” commanded Evelin, as the paper torch burnt down and went out. “Now,” he continued, “I am about to light up another of these papers; and we must utilise the light to get past this gulf, if possible; it will never do for us to remain where we are. The question is—In which direction will it be most advisable for us to proceed? We must devote a moment or two to a hasty survey of the place, as far our light will allow us, before we move. Neither the time nor the light will be wasted. And it will be better that you should turn your glance upward and away from the edge of the chasm; your nerves will then be all the steadier when we have to make a move. Now, I am going to light up once more.”