CHAPTER XVIII
WE ABANDON HOPE
I can give no adequate description of the horrors of the night whichfollowed. Mercifully they were to some extent mitigated by sleep, foreven in such a position as ours wearied nature will sometimes assertitself. But I, at any rate, found it impossible to sleep much. Puttingaside the terrifying thought of our impending doom--for the bravest manon earth might well quail from such a fate as awaited us, and I nevermade any pretensions to be brave--the _silence_ itself was too great toallow of it. Reader, you may have lain awake at night and thought thequiet oppressive, but I say with confidence that you can have no ideawhat a vivid, tangible thing is perfect stillness. On the surface ofthe earth there is always some sound or motion, and though it may initself be imperceptible, yet it deadens the sharp edge of absolutesilence. But here there was none. We were buried in the bowels of ahuge snow-clad peak. Thousands of feet above us the fresh air rushedover the white snow, but no sound of it reached us. We were separatedby a long tunnel and five feet of rock even from the awful chamber ofthe Dead; and the dead make no noise. Did we not know it who lay bypoor Foulata's side? The crashing of all the artillery of earth andheaven could not have come to our ears in our living tomb. We were cutoff from every echo of the world--we were as men already in the grave.
Then the irony of the situation forced itself upon me. There around uslay treasures enough to pay off a moderate national debt, or to build afleet of ironclads, and yet we would have bartered them all gladly forthe faintest chance of escape. Soon, doubtless, we should be rejoicedto exchange them for a bit of food or a cup of water, and, after that,even for the privilege of a speedy close to our sufferings. Trulywealth, which men spend their lives in acquiring, is a valueless thingat the last.
And so the night wore on.
"Good," said Sir Henry's voice at last, and it sounded awful in theintense stillness, "how many matches have you in the box?"
"Eight, Curtis."
"Strike one and let us see the time."
He did so, and in contrast to the dense darkness the flame nearlyblinded us. It was five o'clock by my watch. The beautiful dawn was nowblushing on the snow-wreaths far over our heads, and the breeze wouldbe stirring the night mists in the hollows.
"We had better eat something and keep up our strength," I suggested.
"What is the good of eating?" answered Good; "the sooner we die and getit over the better."
"While there is life there is hope," said Sir Henry.
Accordingly we ate and sipped some water, and another period of timeelapsed. Then Sir Henry suggested that it might be well to get as nearthe door as possible and halloa, on the faint chance of somebodycatching a sound outside. Accordingly Good, who, from long practice atsea, has a fine piercing note, groped his way down the passage and setto work. I must say that he made a most diabolical noise. I never heardsuch yells; but it might have been a mosquito buzzing for all theeffect they produced.
After a while he gave it up and came back very thirsty, and had todrink. Then we stopped yelling, as it encroached on the supply of water.
So we sat down once more against the chests of useless diamonds in thatdreadful inaction which was one of the hardest circumstances of ourfate; and I am bound to say that, for my part, I gave way in despair.Laying my head against Sir Henry's broad shoulder I burst into tears;and I think that I heard Good gulping away on the other side, andswearing hoarsely at himself for doing so.
Ah, how good and brave that great man was! Had we been two frightenedchildren, and he our nurse, he could not have treated us more tenderly.Forgetting his own share of miseries, he did all he could to soothe ourbroken nerves, telling stories of men who had been in somewhat similarcircumstances, and miraculously escaped; and when these failed to cheerus, pointing out how, after all, it was only anticipating an end whichmust come to us all, that it would soon be over, and that death fromexhaustion was a merciful one (which is not true). Then, in a diffidentsort of way, as once before I had heard him do, he suggested that weshould throw ourselves on the mercy of a higher Power, which for mypart I did with great vigour.
His is a beautiful character, very quiet, but very strong.
And so somehow the day went as the night had gone, if, indeed, one canuse these terms where all was densest night, and when I lit a match tosee the time it was seven o'clock.
Once more we ate and drank, and as we did so an idea occurred to me.
"How is it," said I, "that the air in this place keeps fresh? It isthick and heavy, but it is perfectly fresh."
"Great heavens!" said Good, starting up, "I never thought of that. Itcan't come through the stone door, for it's air-tight, if ever a doorwas. It must come from somewhere. If there were no current of air inthe place we should have been stifled or poisoned when we first camein. Let us have a look."
It was wonderful what a change this mere spark of hope wrought in us.In a moment we were all three groping about on our hands and knees,feeling for the slightest indication of a draught. Presently my ardourreceived a check. I put my hand on something cold. It was deadFoulata's face.
For an hour or more we went on feeling about, till at last Sir Henryand I gave it up in despair, having been considerably hurt byconstantly knocking our heads against tusks, chests, and the sides ofthe chamber. But Good still persevered, saying, with an approach tocheerfulness, that it was better than doing nothing.
"I say, you fellows," he said presently, in a constrained sort ofvoice, "come here."
Needless to say we scrambled towards him quickly enough.
"Quatermain, put your hand here where mine is. Now, do you feelanything?"
"I _think_ I feel air coming up."
"Now listen." He rose and stamped upon the place, and a flame of hopeshot up in our hearts. _It rang hollow._
With trembling hands I lit a match. I had only three left, and we sawthat we were in the angle of the far corner of the chamber, a fact thataccounted for our not having noticed the hollow sound of the placeduring our former exhaustive examination. As the match burnt wescrutinised the spot. There was a join in the solid rock floor, and,great heavens! there, let in level with the rock, was a stone ring. Wesaid no word, we were too excited, and our hearts beat too wildly withhope to allow us to speak. Good had a knife, at the back of which wasone of those hooks that are made to extract stones from horses' hoofs.He opened it, and scratched round the ring with it. Finally he workedit under, and levered away gently for fear of breaking the hook. Thering began to move. Being of stone it had not rusted fast in all thecenturies it had lain there, as would have been the case had it been ofiron. Presently it was upright. Then he thrust his hands into it andtugged with all his force, but nothing budged.
"Let me try," I said impatiently, for the situation of the stone, rightin the angle of the corner, was such that it was impossible for two topull at once. I took hold and strained away, but no results.
Then Sir Henry tried and failed.
Taking the hook again, Good scratched all round the crack where we feltthe air coming up.
"Now, Curtis," he said, "tackle on, and put your back into it; you areas strong as two. Stop," and he took off a stout black silkhandkerchief, which, true to his habits of neatness, he still wore, andran it through the ring. "Quatermain, get Curtis round the middle andpull for dear life when I give the word. _Now._"
Sir Henry put out all his enormous strength, and Good and I did thesame, with such power as nature had given us.
"Heave! heave! it's giving," gasped Sir Henry; and I heard the musclesof his great back cracking. Suddenly there was a grating sound, then arush of air, and we were all on our backs on the floor with a heavyflag-stone upon the top of us. Sir Henry's strength had done it, andnever did muscular power stand a man in better stead.
"Light a match, Quatermain," he said, so soon as we had pickedourselves up and got our breath; "carefully, now."
I did so, and there before us, Heaven be praised! was the _first stepof a stone stair._
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br /> "Now what is to be done?" asked Good.
"Follow the stair, of course, and trust to Providence."
"Stop!" said Sir Henry; "Quatermain, get the bit of biltong and thewater that are left; we may want them."
I went, creeping back to our place by the chests for that purpose, andas I was coming away an idea struck me. We had not thought much of thediamonds for the last twenty-four hours or so; indeed, the very idea ofdiamonds was nauseous, seeing what they had entailed upon us; but,reflected I, I may as well pocket some in case we ever should get outof this ghastly hole. So I just put my fist into the first chest andfilled all the available pockets of my old shooting-coat and trousers,topping up--this was a happy thought--with a few handfuls of big onesfrom the third chest. Also, by an afterthought, I stuffed Foulata'sbasket, which, except for one water-gourd and a little biltong, wasempty now, with great quantities of the stones.
"I say, you fellows," I sang out, "won't you take some diamonds withyou? I've filled my pockets and the basket."
"Oh, come on, Quatermain! and hang the diamonds!" said Sir Henry. "Ihope that I may never see another."
As for Good, he made no answer. He was, I think, taking his lastfarewell of all that was left of the poor girl who had loved him sowell. And curious as it may seem to you, my reader, sitting at home atease and reflecting on the vast, indeed the immeasurable, wealth whichwe were thus abandoning, I can assure you that if you had passed sometwenty-eight hours with next to nothing to eat and drink in that place,you would not have cared to cumber yourself with diamonds whilstplunging down into the unknown bowels of the earth, in the wild hope ofescape from an agonising death. If from the habits of a lifetime, ithad not become a sort of second nature with me never to leave anythingworth having behind if there was the slightest chance of my being ableto carry it away, I am sure that I should not have bothered to fill mypockets and that basket.
"Come on, Quatermain," repeated Sir Henry, who was already standing onthe first step of the stone stair. "Steady, I will go first."
"Mind where you put your feet, there may be some awful holeunderneath," I answered.
"Much more likely to be another room," said Sir Henry, while hedescended slowly, counting the steps as he went.
When he got to "fifteen" he stopped. "Here's the bottom," he said."Thank goodness! I think it's a passage. Follow me down."
Good went next, and I came last, carrying the basket, and on reachingthe bottom lit one of the two remaining matches. By its light we couldjust see that we were standing in a narrow tunnel, which ran right andleft at right angles to the staircase we had descended. Before we couldmake out any more, the match burnt my fingers and went out. Then arosethe delicate question of which way to go. Of course, it was impossibleto know what the tunnel was, or where it led to, and yet to turn oneway might lead us to safety, and the other to destruction. We wereutterly perplexed, till suddenly it struck Good that when I had lit thematch the draught of the passage blew the flame to the left.
"Let us go against the draught," he said; "air draws inwards, notoutwards."
We took this suggestion, and feeling along the wall with our hands,whilst trying the ground before us at every step, we departed from thataccursed treasure chamber on our terrible quest for life. If ever itshould be entered again by living man, which I do not think probable,he will find tokens of our visit in the open chests of jewels, theempty lamp, and the white bones of poor Foulata.
When we had groped our way for about a quarter of an hour along thepassage, suddenly it took a sharp turn, or else was bisected byanother, which we followed, only in course of time to be led into athird. And so it went on for some hours. We seemed to be in a stonelabyrinth that led nowhere. What all these passages are, of course Icannot say, but we thought that they must be the ancient workings of amine, of which the various shafts and adits travelled hither andthither as the ore led them. This is the only way in which we couldaccount for such a multitude of galleries.
At length we halted, thoroughly worn out with fatigue and with thathope deferred which maketh the heart sick, and ate up our poorremaining piece of biltong and drank our last sup of water, for ourthroats were like lime-kilns. It seemed to us that we had escaped Deathin the darkness of the treasure chamber only to meet him in thedarkness of the tunnels.
As we stood, once more utterly depressed, I thought that I caught asound, to which I called the attention of the others. It was very faintand very far off, but it _was_ a sound, a faint, murmuring sound, forthe others heard it too, and no words can describe the blessedness ofit after all those hours of utter, awful stillness.
"By heaven! it's running water," said Good. "Come on."
Off we started again in the direction from which the faint murmurseemed to come, groping our way as before along the rocky walls. Iremember that I laid down the basket full of diamonds, wishing to berid of its weight, but on second thoughts took it up again. One mightas well die rich as poor, I reflected. As we went the sound became moreand more audible, till at last it seemed quite loud in the quiet. On,yet on; now we could distinctly make out the unmistakable swirl ofrushing water. And yet how could there be running water in the bowelsof the earth? Now we were quite near it, and Good, who was leading,swore that he could smell it.
"Go gently, Good," said Sir Henry, "we must be close." _Splash!_ and acry from Good.
He had fallen in.
"Good! Good! where are you?" we shouted, in terrified distress. To ourintense relief an answer came back in a choky voice.
"All right; I've got hold of a rock. Strike a light to show me whereyou are."
Hastily I lit the last remaining match. Its faint gleam discovered tous a dark mass of water running at our feet. How wide it was we couldnot see, but there, some way out, was the dark form of our companionhanging on to a projecting rock.
"Stand clear to catch me," sung out Good. "I must swim for it."
Then we heard a splash, and a great struggle. Another minute and he hadgrabbed at and caught Sir Henry's outstretched hand, and we had pulledhim up high and dry into the tunnel.
"My word!" he said, between his gasps, "that was touch and go. If Ihadn't managed to catch that rock, and known how to swim, I should havebeen done. It runs like a mill-race, and I could feel no bottom."
We dared not follow the banks of the subterranean river for fear lestwe should fall into it again in the darkness. So after Good had resteda while, and we had drunk our fill of the water, which was sweet andfresh, and washed our faces, that needed it sadly, as well as we could,we started from the banks of this African Styx, and began to retraceour steps along the tunnel, Good dripping unpleasantly in front of us.At length we came to another gallery leading to our right.
"We may as well take it," said Sir Henry wearily; "all roads are alikehere; we can only go on till we drop."
Slowly, for a long, long while, we stumbled, utterly exhausted, alongthis new tunnel, Sir Henry now leading the way. Again I thought ofabandoning that basket, but did not.
Suddenly he stopped, and we bumped up against him.
"Look!" he whispered, "is my brain going, or is that light?"
We stared with all our eyes, and there, yes, there, far ahead of us,was a faint, glimmering spot, no larger than a cottage window pane. Itwas so faint that I doubt if any eyes, except those which, like ours,had for days seen nothing but blackness, could have perceived it at all.
With a gasp of hope we pushed on. In five minutes there was no longerany doubt; it _was_ a patch of faint light. A minute more and a breathof real live air was fanning us. On we struggled. All at once thetunnel narrowed. Sir Henry went on his knees. Smaller yet it grew, tillit was only the size of a large fox's earth--it was _earth_ now, mindyou; the rock had ceased.
A squeeze, a struggle, and Sir Henry was out, and so was Good, and sowas I, dragging Foulata's basket after me; and there above us were theblessed stars, and in our nostrils was the sweet air. Then suddenlysomething gave, and we were all rolling over and over and over throu
ghgrass and bushes and soft, wet soil.
The basket caught in something and I stopped. Sitting up I halloedlustily. An answering shout came from below, where Sir Henry's wildcareer had been checked by some level ground. I scrambled to him, andfound him unhurt, though breathless. Then we looked for Good. A littleway off we discovered him also, hammed in a forked root. He was a gooddeal knocked about, but soon came to himself.
We sat down together, there on the grass, and the revulsion of feelingwas so great that really I think we cried with joy. We had escaped fromthat awful dungeon, which was so near to becoming our grave. Surelysome merciful Power guided our footsteps to the jackal hole, for thatis what it must have been, at the termination of the tunnel. And see,yonder on the mountains the dawn we had never thought to look uponagain was blushing rosy red.
Presently the grey light stole down the slopes, and we saw that we wereat the bottom, or rather, nearly at the bottom, of the vast pit infront of the entrance to the cave. Now we could make out the dim formsof the three Colossi who sat upon its verge. Doubtless those awfulpassages, along which we had wandered the livelong night, had beenoriginally in some way connected with the great diamond mine. As forthe subterranean river in the bowels of the mountain, Heaven only knowswhat it is, or whence it flows, or whither it goes. I, for one, have noanxiety to trace its course.
Lighter it grew, and lighter yet. We could see each other now, and sucha spectacle as we presented I have never set eyes on before or since.Gaunt-cheeked, hollow-eyed wretches, smeared all over with dust andmud, bruised, bleeding, the long fear of imminent death yet written onour countenances, we were, indeed, a sight to frighten the daylight.And yet it is a solemn fact that Good's eye-glass was still fixed inGood's eye. I doubt whether he had ever taken it out at all. Neitherthe darkness, nor the plunge in the subterranean river, nor the rolldown the slope, had been able to separate Good and his eye-glass.
Presently we rose, fearing that our limbs would stiffen if we stoppedthere longer, and commenced with slow and painful steps to struggle upthe sloping sides of the great pit. For an hour or more we toiledsteadfastly up the blue clay, dragging ourselves on by the help of theroots and grasses with which it was clothed. But now I had no morethought of leaving the basket; indeed, nothing but death should haveparted us.
At last it was done, and we stood by the great road, on that side ofthe pit which is opposite to the Colossi.
At the side of the road, a hundred yards off, a fire was burning infront of some huts, and round the fire were figures. We staggeredtowards them, supporting one another, and halting every few paces.Presently one of the figures rose, saw us and fell on to the ground,crying out for fear.
"Infadoos, Infadoos! it is we, thy friends."
He rose; he ran to us, staring wildly, and still shaking with fear.
"Oh, my lords, my lords, it is indeed you come back from thedead!--come back from the dead!"
And the old warrior flung himself down before us, and clasping SirHenry's knees, he wept aloud for joy.
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