Lady Tennys, her dark lashes resting tranquilly upon her cheek, was lying easily against the staunch old rock, fast asleep.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Wonderful Land
He did not arouse her at once, but sat below her, looking at her sweet, tired face, peaceful in the slumber that had been so long in coming, wondering what her dreams could be. Far down the shore, near the tree under which he had found himself and to whose shelter she had dragged him,—something told him vaguely,—was the spar that had ridden the waves with them the night before. Long, white and gleaming it lay in the waning sunlight. The sight of it filled him with an enthusiasm he never had known before. His heart swelled with homage to the strong, sturdy piece of timber. It was like a living object to him now, a friend to whom he felt like talking, to whom he could turn for proof positive of an unparalleled experience on the deep.
His eyes grew sad and gloomy as he turned toward the setting king of day. In his imagination, the Tempest Queen, with all on board, went down precisely at the point chosen by the sun for his disappearance.
Night coming! Where were they? Upon an unknown shore, Heaven alone knowing how far from habitation, from all shelter save the tree-tops, from all means of sustenance. Night coming! Behind them the mysterious jungle, before them the devil-brewed ocean.
A chilly perspiration broke out over him; a fear even worse than that of the night before attacked him. How far were they from human habitation? What manner of people dwelt in this land? As these thoughts tumbled about in his brain, suddenly came the implacable desire for water. It seemed days since he had tasted it. Like a flash, nature began its demands, and he was almost overcome by the prospect of night on the rocks with no possible hope to find the food and water now so necessary.
Lady Tennys slept on, untouched by the calamities that beset him, her breast rising full and regularly. As he looked upon her lovely face the spirit of chivalry returned. She had thought of him in his unconsciousness and she had been brave and true. Bound by a new determination to find food and water for her and to provide other shelter than the draughty crannies among the rocks, he painfully started up the slope toward the edge of the forest. Soon he stood upon the broad, smooth plateau, looking into the green, sunless depths.
Behind him lay the beach and the fringe of the jungle; to seaward rose the rocky point full two hundred feet higher than the spot on which he stood, panting for breath; to his right, descending gradually, ran the lofty hill to a place, not more than a quarter of a mile away, where it merged into the forest. The ridge on which he stood was not more than one hundred feet wide, a flat, narrow, sloping table. Filled with curiosity, he strode to the opposite side and found himself upon the edge of a sharp decline, almost perpendicular in its fall to the valley below, which was apparently lower than the beach from which he had come.
As far as the eye could reach inland there was a mass of bright green trees, luxuriant and beautiful. Below him was water, a natural harbor of tiny dimensions, running back from the sea which lay off to the far right as he faced the head of this peculiar elevation. Plain to his eye was the contour of this great rock. It resembled the letter L. Along the sea line it stretched high and ugly for nearly a mile, a solid wall, he imagined, some three hundred feet above the water, narrow at the top, like a great backbone. The little cove below him was perhaps a mile across. The opposite shore was low and verdure-clad. The rocky eminence that formed the wall on two sides was the only high ground to be seen for miles around.
Down the slope he sped, dusky shadows beginning to tell of the coming night. His feet finally touched upon the grass-covered soil; he was off the barren rock and at the edge of the dismal forest. Without a quiver he hurried under the great leaves and among the trees. The ground sloped gently downward to the now invisible harbor. He turned in that direction. Monkeys chattered in the trees and strange birds hurtled through the dense growth. His foot struck against a queer green object and an instant later he gave a shout of joy. It was a cocoanut, green and smooth.
Food! In an instant he realized that he had found something that could appease the cravings of hunger for the time being, at least. He searched eagerly, feverishly in the matted grass, and soon had a dozen great nuts piled at the edge of the wood. Then he renewed his search for the water that must keep life in their famished bodies.
The lapping of waves grew louder as he pushed his way through the trees, and a moment later he narrowly escaped plunging into the waters of the shimmering little bay. The coast was semicircular in shape, rising high and black to his left, running low and green to his right. Not one hundred feet to the left were the first signs of the rocky promontory, small, jagged boulders standing like a picket line before the grout mass beyond. Along the rocky side of the wall, sonic distance away, he saw an overhanging shelf of dark gray stone, protruding over the natural floor beneath. An inky darkness back of the projection impressed him with the idea that a cave lay beyond.
At his feet trickled a little stream of clear, sparkling water, coming from the crevasse above, the headquarters of a spring. He fell upon his knees and plunged his hot face into the cool water, swallowing great gulps.
When he arose to his feet everything looked brighter, fairer, happier. The scene, gorgeous a few moments before, was now more than that to his revived senses. A desire to shout jubilantly came over him. With an exultation that he could scarcely control he dashed on up the sand-strewn ledge toward the awning-like rock.
He found that a roomy cave ran back into the hill a dozen feet or more. Its floor was covered with fine white sand, thrown up from the beach during the wind storms, and it was a most perfect shelter,—this hole fifty feet above the placid waters.
Darkness was coming, so he ran back to the little rivulet. In a broken cocoanut shell he secured some fresh water and began his journey to the other side of the ridge. The sun was down to the level of the sea when he came from the rocks and within sight of the spot where he had left his fair companion.
She was not there!
A great trembling fear assailed him and he sank back with a groan of despair. Then he heard his name called faintly and piteously.
“Here I am!” he cried. “Where are you?” A glad cry arose from below, and he saw her coming rapidly from the small boulders near the water, some distance to the left. He hurried to meet her.
“Oh, I thought you had left me to die up there,” she gasped as they drew near to each other. “Mr. Ridgeway—Hugh, I am so glad you have come.”
“You were asleep when I came back an hour ago. See? I have found water. Drink!” With one hand he reached down and took hers, eagerly upstretched, drawing her to the rock on which he stood. She gulped the contents of the shell with the haste of one half famished.
“How good!” she cried, with eyes sparkling as she took the empty shell from her moist lips. “I was so thirsty that I tried to drink that bitter stuff down there. How horrible it must be to die of thirst. Can we find food, Hugh? Is there nothing to eat? I am so hungry, so hungry.” The sparkle faded from her eyes and a look of pain filled them.
“I have found cocoanuts on the other side of the hill. We can make them serve until I have a chance to look farther. Come. We must hurry, or the night will make it impossible for us to cross this hill and find the cave.”
“Cave?”
“A wonderful shelter for the night. Can you walk that far? It will not be difficult after we reach the top of this little mountain.”
Together they began the tortuous ascent, following as closely as possible the course he had taken. They were scarcely able to stand when they at last reached the top. Neither saw the beauty in the view, so eager were they to find rest and nourishment. As they passed painfully down the slope, he told her of the monkeys, the nuts, the cave, the rivulet, and the splendor of the scene, cheering her lagging spirits with what animation he could assume. A few chattering monkeys welcomed them to the woodland, and she was momentarily aroused to interest in her surroundings, utte
ring little cries of delight. They came to the pile of nuts, and he took up several in his free arm. The cave was reached at last and both sank exhausted to the white sand. It was now so dark that the stars were gathering above them and objects were indistinct to the vision.
“Thank God!” he exclaimed, lying flat on his back, his arms outstretched.
“I am so tired,” she murmured, her head drooping against the wall as she seated herself near the opening. After many minutes he began the task of opening the cocoanuts.
“Tomorrow I shall go hunting for something more substantial than these nuts. There must be fruit, berries and vegetables of some kind in the forest,” said he.
“How are we to get away from here, Hugh?” she asked. “Where are we? This may be an uninhabited island, and we may have to stay here all of our lives.” There was an awe in her voice, and he could imagine that the prospect brought horror to her face. By this time it was almost pitch dark.
“Have I not found food, water and shelter within an hour’s time? Can good fortune end with this? Let us sleep peacefully tonight and hope for the best with tomorrow’s developments.”
“Sleep? Where are we to sleep?”
“In this cave and upon the sand. There is no other place. It is safe, Lady Tennys, and you are to have my coat as a pillow for that tired little head of yours.” With this he arose and threw off his coat despite her protests, rolling it into a compact little bundle. Placing this improvised pillow on the sand near the rear of the cave, he said:
“There is your bed, my Lady. It is the very best in the hotel.”
“You are so good to me, Hugh,—much better than I thought you could be after—after—”
“Please don’t say what you started to say,” he interrupted, his voice breaking suddenly. He stood with his shoulder against one of the outer corners of the cave, she sitting quietly behind him. At last he went on, as if the thought came slowly, “Lady Huntingford, forgive my selfishness. I have been bewailing my own misfortune in a most unmanly way, while you have borne your loss bravely, thinking only to comfort me. Forgive me.”
“My loss?” she asked in wonder.
“Lord Huntingford,” he said gently.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, starting sharply. “Lord—Lord Huntingford! Oh, Hugh, I had forgotten—I had not thought—,” but she did not complete the bewildered speech. He could have believed that she did not breathe during the next few moments as she stood there, straight and rigid, clasping his arm convulsively. Then she turned away and walked quickly to the bed on the sand, lying down without a word. He could distinguish nothing of her person save certain outlines in the darkness, and although he listened intently, he heard no sob, no sigh.
Soon his eyes grew heavy and he felt the overpowering force of sleep upon him. Removing his waistcoat, he went to the other side of the cave and prepared to stretch himself out for rest. He paused and listened for a sound from her. None came, so in some trepidation he stepped nearer. Soft, regular breathing, deep and full, told him that she was asleep. In considerable wonder he went back to his hard bed. Out of the confusion of thoughts and impressions that followed her surprising admission, came at last the dim, sleepy understanding of the situation.
She had not thought of Lord Huntingford until he mentioned the old nobleman’s name.
With the last faint whirl of wakefulness came the suggestion of roaming wild beasts, creeping up to attack them in the night, but sleep greedily swallowed the half-formed fear.
CHAPTER XIX
THE FIRST DAY IN THE WILDS
The sun was up hours before Ridgeway stretched his stiff arms, blinked his sleepy eyes and peered wonderingly about his strange apartment. Another and more rapid glance failed to reveal Lady Tennys. His jacket was still there, and a round depression showed that her head had rested upon it all night. The packed sand denoted the once present body of the sleeper.
“Good-morning,” came a sweet, clear voice from somewhere.
“Hello! Where are you?” he called, greatly relieved.
“In the kitchen, of course, getting breakfast for you. The kitchen is down at the spring, you know. Come down.”
He hurried down the path, and found her standing beside the bounding little stream. Her wavy black hair was no longer matted and wild, for, with the water in the cove as a mirror and her big hair comb as the necessary toilet article, she had “done it up” in quite a presentable fashion. Her face was bright and pure in its freshness, her hands were white and immaculately clean; her eyes sparkled with a deeper, clearer blue than ever. She wore an air of resolute confidence in herself.
“I have been up for two hours or more. See how nice and clean I am. Go down there and wash your hands and face and I will comb your hair.” She produced an improvised clothes broom, a stout leafy branch from a cocoanut-tree, and swished the sand from his clothing as he turned about for her obediently.
“These clothes of mine are full of sand and scum from the sea, but before the day is over I intend to give them a good scrubbing and drying. Then I’ll feel like a new man. But wait! This may be Sunday, not Monday. Can’t wash on Sunday, can I? Let’s see, the wreck was on Thursday night, yesterday was Friday and—”
“And today is Saturday naturally. We must have clean clothes for Sunday. Our parlor, kitchen, and laundry are in the same room, it would seem. Here’s a pile of cocoanuts I collected while you slept, and there are some plums or fruit of some kind. They grow back there in the wood a short distance. I saw some gorgeous birds out there, and they were eating the fruit, so it must be wholesome. And those dear, saucy little monkeys! I could watch them for hours.”
“Did you run across any boa constrictors or anacondas?” asked he serenely.
“Good Heavens! I never thought of snakes. There may be dreadful serpents in that forest, Hugh.” Her eyes were full of alarm.
“I merely asked your Ladyship in order to keep the cook in her kitchen,” laughed he.
“An afternoon out is not a luxury in this land, even for the most cooped up of cooks. Snakes! Ugh!” Hugh thought she shuddered very prettily.
“Breakfast will be cold if I don’t hurry,” he observed. He made his way around the rocky bend to the point where the rivulet emptied into the cove. When he returned to the shady spot he was put to work opening cocoanuts and pouring the milk into the shells of others. She had cleaned the flat surface of a large rock which stood well out from the lower edge of the cliff, and signified her intention to use it as a dining table. He became enthusiastic and, by the exertion of all the strength he could muster, succeeded in rolling two boulders down the incline, placing them in position as stools beside the queer table. Then they stood off and laughed at the remarkable set of furniture.
“I wonder what time it is?” she said as they began to eat. He pulled his forgotten repeater from his watch pocket and opened it with considerable apprehension. It was not running, nor did it appear as if it would ever be of service again.
“How are we ever to know the time of day?” she cried.
“I’ll try to fix it. It is only water-clogged. My little compass on the charm is all right and it will give us our bearings, north and south, so that I can get the time by the sun. I’ll drive a little stake out there on the level, and when the shadow is precisely north and south, then it is noon. It’s all very simple, Lady Tennyson.”
“I’m only the cook, Hugh. Won’t you please call me Tennys?”
“Thank you; it’s such a waste of time to say Lady Tennyson. Shall I order dinner, cook?”
“We’ll have a ten-course dinner, sir, of cocoanuts and plums, sir, if you please, sir.”
“Breakfast warmed over, I see,” he murmured, gazing resignedly toward the trees. Later on he managed to get some life into his watch and eventually it gave promise of faithful work. He set the hands at twelve o’clock. It was broiling hot by this time, and he was thoughtful enough to construct a poke-bonnet for her, utilizing a huge palm leaf. Proudly he placed the green protector upon
her black hair. Then, looking into her smiling eyes, he tied the grass cord under her up-tilted chin.
“Perfect!” she cried, with genuine pleasure. “You must make another for yourself.” Whether he took it as a command or as a request matters not. Suffice it to say, he soon produced another palm-leaf hat, and she tied it under his chin a great deal more deftly than he had performed the same service for her, consequently with a speed that disappointed him.
He decided to make a short tour of the wood during the afternoon. At first he argued it would be wise to walk far down the coast, in the hope of finding a village of some description along the water front. Then he decided that a trip to the north, through the wood, would be better, as the lower coast could be surveyed from the summit of the great rock.
“You are not afraid to stay here alone for a couple of hours, are you, Tennys?” he asked, discerning solicitude in her face.
“I am not afraid for myself, but for you. You must be very careful, Hugh, and come back to me safely. What can I do? What shall I do if you never come back?” she cried.
“Nothing can happen to me—nothing in the world. See, it’s nearly one o’clock now. I’ll be back by five. And I’ll be careful, so do not be troubled. We must find the way out of this wilderness. Be brave and I’ll soon be with you again.”
He was soon in the depths of the forest, skirting the little bay toward the north. She stood beside their stone festal board, watching him through uneasy eyes till he disappeared completely from view. A sense of loneliness so overpowering that it almost crushed her fell upon this frail, tender woman as she stood there on the edge of the South Sea jungle, the boundless sea at her back. The luxuries and joys of a life to which she had been accustomed came up in a great flash before her memory’s eye, almost maddening in their seductiveness. She glanced at the dress she wore, and a faint, weary smile came to her eyes and lips. Instead of the white, perfect yachting costume, she saw the wretched, shrunken, stained, shapeless garment that to her eyes would have looked appalling on the frame of a mendicant. Her costly shoes, once small and exquisitely moulded to her aristocratic feet, were now soiled and ugly.
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