Uncharted Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  A flame spurted up away down in the blackness of the valley to their right where they knew the thickest cluster of the native huts to be and, as though it were a signal, the rattle of musketry came clearly from beyond the Marriage House.

  ‘Dieu merci!’ De Brissac gasped. ‘Deveril and his men!’

  The blacks had also seen the flames; they hesitated, broke off their attack on the stony fort, and turning, ran down the hill, leaving the defenders of the redoubt to witness the scene in the valley unmolested.

  From the native village great spurts of flame were now going up as the frail dwellings of dried mud, grass and wattle burned like tinder while the north-east corner of the stockade round the Marriage House compound was lit, intermittently, by the flash of firearms.

  ‘Well done, Deverill!’ Basil gasped. ‘By Jove, he’s got here quickly!’

  ‘Nearly two hours before his time,’ De Brissac supplemented.

  ‘Oh, thank God! Thank God!’ Unity sighed; letting her head fall on Basil’s shoulder.

  A few moments later, while the fight in the valley was still raging, the moon came out again and they could see the rescue party. Deveril and his men had fought their way out of the compound and were advancing up the slope firing to either hand, upon shadowy groups of blacks, as they came.

  De Brissac stared down at them anxiously. ‘That can’t be all his force. It’s no more than ten to a dozen men. Where the devil have the others got to?’

  ‘Making a bonfire of the homesteads,’ Juhani said quickly. There’re lots of folks moving down there. Look, man! you can see them against the flames.’

  Dense clouds of smoke and sparks were rising from the native village and wild confusion reigned as indistinct figures dashed back and forth, glimpsed only for seconds in the lurid glare.

  Deveril’s men were half-way up the slope. Standing up, now, in their front, De Brissac’s party gave them a rousing cheer. An answering shout came from the rescuers and their firing ceased as the blacks gave back on either side, enabling them to cover the last two hundred yards at the double. Willing hands hauled them up into the redoubt as soon as they reached the boulders at its foot.

  Panting, laughing, exclaiming, they exchanged breathless greetings and, to De Brissac’s amazement, he found Yonita was among the rescue party.

  ‘What in the world are you doing here?’ he cried, seizing both her hands and kissing them violently.

  ‘She was so plaguely insistent,’ Deveril shrugged. ‘With our thirteen balloons we can land twelve men each journey. Four trips will see the forty-seven men I have raised over and leave two balloons spare on the last crossing. Knowing that, Yonita blackguarded me into letting her accompany our vanguard.’

  ‘But why are you so few?’ asked Basil hurriedly. ‘Are all the rest of your people down in the village?’

  Deveril shook his head. ‘Gad! No. Only Li Foo whom you sent to meet us and one other. The eleven of us here, including Yonita, and the fellow who is with the Chinaman, were the first company to make the crossing. ’Twas Yonita’s notion that we should not wait for the rest but set out to your assistance instantly.’

  ‘Thank God you did.’ Unity flung her sound arm round Yonita’s shoulders. ‘We should all be dead now if you’d waited; we should have been dead long ago if it hadn’t been for the machine-gun and our ammunition, for that has just run out.’

  Deveril’s young face suddenly lost its cheerful look.

  ‘We heard the gun, miles distant in the forest, and saw it in action from the far side of the valley, but we wondered why you did not fire it again to succour us when we were hard-pressed down by the compound. Heaven forfend that the Negroes should attack again until the rest of my people come up.’

  ‘Oh, shucks.’ Juhani laughed for the first time for hours. ‘Now there are more than a dozen of us we’ll hold this place easily with our rifles.’

  ‘Think you it will be so easy?’ Yonita broke in. ‘We have a great variety of arms in our island but many of them are of considerable antiquity and for some types we lack ammunition. All that was saved by their first owners was used up long since on occasions when these heathens first raided us.’

  ‘Dang me! ’Tis the truth,’ Deveril agreed. ‘We are in a sad pass for modern weapons and have only the dozen carbines that came off the German gunboat; and the munition for those is no more than twenty rounds apiece. My people are armed with the most ill-assorted pieces and few of them have more than a score of bullets.’

  The relief of the survivors from the Gafelborg at the appearance of the rescue party was sadly damped. It seemed that their situation was little better than before, even though their numbers were greater, and De Brissac had the added anxiety of Yonita’s presence.

  The tumbled black bodies that littered the slope in all directions and the unceasing groans which came up from the rocks just below them showed that they had done enormous execution among the enemy, but De Brissac recalled the great number of natives he had seen performing the war-dance and he had estimated then that not less than five hundred fighting men were present. The remaining ammunition was checked over and Sir Deveril’s men told that they should count every remaining bullet as worth its weight in gold and not fire a single shot until they could see the whites of the Negroes’ eyeballs.

  The sky was clear now and gave them a welcome half-hour’s respite. Deveril and his men had brought flasks of applejack and packets of emergency rations in their pockets. These, being shared out, heartened and revived the little company.

  While the moon was shining no further attempt was made on the stronghold of the whites but it was now low upon the horizon and soon would pass behind the cliff-face to east of them before sinking into the sea. As they waited there, watching it decline in the heavens, the roaring of the flames in the native village came clearly to them. A heavy pall of smoke hung above it in the windless night but the incendiaries had proved so efficient that it looked as if every building in it would be consumed.

  De Brissac had just glanced at the luminous dial of his watch and noted that it was five minutes past two when a hail came from under the cliff to their right. Li Foo and his companion, having fired the village, had fled to the east, almost down to the coast a mile away, to escape capture, but had afterwards succeeded in creeping along the wall of cliff to rejoin them. Their delight at the Chinaman’s safe return was increased by the fact that he was still carrying his rifle and the best part of a hundred rounds. They shared out his store among those who had Winchesters and settled down again to watch.

  Twenty minutes later the moon had passed behind the cliff and lit only the farther slope of the valley. A blanket of darkness enshrouded them and they knew that there was no hope of its lifting until the coming of dawn. Silence fell again except for the pitiful whimpering of the wounded and a period of tense, expectant waiting set in. The hush continued for so long that they began to believe that the blacks had had enough, and, knowing nothing of their shortage of ammunition, decided not to renew the attack now that the original party had received reinforcements. The thought had almost lulled them into a false sense of security when they clearly heard the hoot of an owl away out in the darkness. It was a signal, and, without further warning, the warriors came hurtling, ten deep, towards them.

  For five awful minutes chaos reigned. The whites blazed off their last rounds of ammunition, and, clubbing their guns, smashed at the heads that seemed to rise in waves above the rocky parapet. For moments that seemed endless they fought hand to hand with the brawny, semi-naked savages, but at last they succeeded in throwing them back and they retreated, vanishing like ghosts for the fifth time, into the lower levels.

  Having got to such close quarters in this last attack the Negroes had succeeded in inflicting casualties. The head of one of Sir Deveril’s men had been laid open with a club and the fingers of another had been broken. The first man was dead, the other had his hurt bandaged and stood up to the pain of his wounds with excellent fortitude.

&nb
sp; ‘I’m right out of shot,’ Luvia declared. ‘How about you other folks?’

  A chorus of murmurs greeted his inquiry. There were only five bullets left which fitted the Winchesters and Deveril’s party were reduced to seven rounds between them.

  Basil turned and looked up the dark slope of the landslide. There’s only one thing for it,’ he declared. ‘If they rush us again it’ll be the end of us. God knows if we can do it but we’ve got to have a shot at scaling this cliff.’

  ‘Mais non!’ De Brissac exclaimed. ‘Ce n’est pas possible. From one third of the way up it hangs almost sheer above us.’

  ‘We’ve got to try,’ Basil insisted doggedly. ‘There may be a chimney or gully up there which can’t be seen from here. I’ll bet I’d find my way up somehow, if I only had proper climbing gear.’

  ‘That’s all very well for you, darling,’ Unity said softly. ‘At one time you were a crack mountaineer, but I don’t suppose many of the rest of us have had any experience and the darkness would make it doubly difficult.’

  ‘My middle name’s Tarzan,’ Juhani broke in. ‘I used to climb house-walls for recreation when I was a kid and a masthead in a gale isn’t so funny. If we stay here we’ll be bumped off for certain.’

  ‘If only we had some rope we might attempt it,’ De Brissac said doubtfully.

  ‘There’s some on the ammunition carriers,’ Basil pointed out. ‘Enough to string the girls between Juhani and me, anyhow.’

  With swift fingers they knotted the cords and found that there was sufficient to hitch up four people. It was agreed that Basil should lead the party. Unity, who had done a little climbing in Switzerland one year, volunteered to go next. The wound in her arm was still numb and had not yet begun to pain her seriously so she removed it from the sling, knowing that she would need both hands to help herself. De Brissac was the next to be roped and Yonita was the fourth on the string. Juhani, being both a climber and a powerful man, took responsibility for Synolda. He said that by hook or by crook he would get her up behind him anywhere the four ahead could climb, and would bear her weight, if she slipped, on the sling of one of the Winchesters buckled through his belt and hers.

  The rest sorted themselves out into couples utilising every oddment they had with them in the way of scarves, slings, belts and braces, so that each pair would be able to help each other take a strain at a dangerous point.

  Regarded soberly the exploit was a mad one, but in their peril they underestimated its difficulty and feverishly completed their preparations, spurred on by the knowledge that, at any moment, the Negroes might attack again.

  Basil led the way upward and the going for the first fifty feet was comparatively easy. Loose earth and stones slithered from under their feet, but, bent forward and with their hands outstretched before them, they made the ascent until they reached the naked rock above.

  Here, while the others paused, Basil moved swiftly along the overhang. To the right a rock wall shelved outwards smooth and bald so that it was quite impossible to pass it to the broken cliff which showed faintly in the starlight beyond, but the left rock-face at the top of the landslide showed a better prospect. In the middle of the apparently solid cliff a dozen feet above his head he caught a glimpse of the glow in the sky reflected from the flaming village and saw that, from a spur, a tall tower of rock rose close against the face of the main precipice. If he could only reach the fork from which the tower started it looked as though he might be able to make his way up the chimney between it and the cliff-face. While the others rested, half-lying on the steep slope, he called Luvia up to him and, when the Finn had planted himself firmly, clambered on to his shoulders. From there he was able to wriggle forward into the hollow of the fork.

  He had no sooner reached it than a fresh commotion broke out below. The Negroes had crept forward right up to the edge of the redoubt and suddenly rushed it with victorious war cries, only to find that its defenders had disappeared.

  After the blood-curdling yells had died down there was an angry chattering for a moment; until one of the blacks spotted the girls’ light dresses gleaming faintly against the dark background above. With a fresh outburst of screaming hate they began to scale the landslide. The whites were in a difficult position for aiming their rifles as their foothold was so insecure but they had the big advantage of being at the top of the cascade of scree.

  ‘Aim carefully!’ cried De Brissac, and those who had ammunition left let fly at their assailants. Half a dozen of the savages were hit, and, pitching backwards, rolled down among their comrades carrying many of the others with them. The affray was short and sharp. By the time it was over the whites had used their last bullets, but, yet again, the Negroes had been driven off with heavy losses.

  With Juhani’s help from below Basil hauled Unity up to him by the rope and Yonita after her. In the fork where he sat with his feet firmly wedged against two jutting tongues of stone, to take the strain on the rope, there was room for about eight people standing wedged together. They got Juhani and Synolda up and two of Deveril’s men; after that Basil was forced to seek a way to climb higher so that the leaders of the party could make room for the rest to follow.

  Calling on the others to wait he untied himself and went ahead alone, straddling up the chimney with his hands and feet pressed against opposite sides of the narrow, rocky walls. The tower rose for nearly fifty feet, and no way up showed on either side of it until he was within ten feet of its top. Here, to the left again, there was a narrow platform in the main cliff sloping gently upwards and apparently unbroken. It led to a black patch of shadow about twenty yards farther on which looked as though it might be a cavern where they could take refuge.

  The platform was a mere ledge no more than eighteen inches wide, and as he made his way along it he wondered anxiously whether the others would be able to negotiate it, or be seized by vertigo.

  In one place the rock ledge narrowed to a mere six inches and the darkness added to the danger of the passage as the edge where it ended could only just be seen. When he reached the patch of shadow it proved to be, not a cave, as he had hoped, but jagged broken rock, easy to climb, but impossible to rest on for any length of time without acute discomfort. He decided that before prospecting a further way of ascent they must make the best of it and risk the passage of the narrow ledge, since it was impossible to leave Deveril and his remaining men at the top of the landslide exposed to any renewal of hostilities by the savages.

  Making his way swiftly but carefully back to the chimney he clambered down it, untied Unity from the others and re-roped her to himself; then, taking up the slack of the rope each time she moved, he led her stage by stage up the funnel. When they reached the little platform he stood her up on it with her face to the wall and said:

  ‘It’s pretty narrow farther on. Think you can make it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, evenly. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Bless you.’ He pressed her hand. ‘It’s too much to hope all the others will be as little trouble.’

  ‘They’ll be all right, darling. In this darkness one can’t see how far there is to fall.’

  ‘That’s true. We’d never be able to get them up here in daylight.’ He stretched his arm across her shoulders and they edged along feeling their way from one handhold crack to another until they reached the jagged patch where he could leave her to rest in safety. Returning, he repeated the process with Yonita; but when Synolda’s turn came she proved more difficult. By the time he had her up to the shelf she was trembling in every limb. She declared she had always been terrified of heights and that her legs felt like giving way under her.

  Basil called down to Juhani, who came scrambling up to help him, and nerve-racking moments for both of them followed. One on each side of Synolda and both roped to her they gradually shuffled their way along. She was so near fainting with terror that she could hardly move her feet, and, between them, they had to half drag and half carry her. At the narrowest part of the path, where the prec
ipice fell sheer away, the sweat poured down Basil’s forehead in rivulets. He knew that one unexpected clutch from the trembling girl would send all three of them hurtling down into the abyss.

  At last the frightful business was accomplished and the two other girls, clinging to their precarious perches in the steep ravine that rent the cliff-face, were able to receive Synolda, sobbing, in their arms.

  One by one Deveril’s men, Li Foo and De Brissac followed; not without many moments of acute anxiety for the two practised climbers who had to make a dozen journeys, back and forth, to encourage and help them. Deveril brought up the rear, making the passage without assistance, and at length the whole party was assembled on the broken surface in the wide cleft.

  Basil was half dead with fatigue and nerve strain. Juhani was little better, but, after a brief rest, the two of them made their way upwards again, as the present position of the party only gave it a temporary security. They were all spreadeagled clinging to lumps of outcrop or splinters of straight stone and would not be able to retain their hold there indefinitely.

  At the top of the gully the two leaders were faced by slanting slabs of smooth rock but these were cracked with jagged fissures, and both men felt that, if the party used the ropes in turn, they should be able to cross them on a diagonal slant, heading up again to what appeared to be a small plateau.

  While Basil returned to the others to prepare them for this fresh ascent Juhani went on, his chest pressed close to the rock, his fingers feeling for every niche and cranny, worming his way upward until he reached the broad shelf they had made out from below. It proved to be a fair-sized, level plateau forming the top of a shoulder which jutted out into the void.