It was surrounded with bush, and how the Admiral had found it must ever remain a mystery.
Ten minutes after this poor Tandy was clasping his children to his breast.
Innocent wee Babs was patting his cheek, and saying, “Never mind, daddy – never mind, dear daddy.” Childish consolation certainly, but, oh, so sweet! No wonder his pent-up feelings were relieved by tears at last.
The crane allayed his feelings by dancing a pas de joie on the coral sand. Bob gave vent to his by rushing about and barking at everything and everybody, but especially at the boat, which he seemed to regard as the innocent cause of all the trouble.
“Wowff – wowff – wow! Why did it run away anyhow?”
That is what Bob wanted to know.
But the tide had ebbed sufficiently to permit of a visit to the cave of delight, as Ransey called it.
James and Tandy, with Ransey and Fitz, embarked, the others remaining on shore.
Both men were as much delighted and astonished at what they saw as the children themselves had been. A large quantity of withered branches and foliage had been taken in the boat, to make a fire in the crystalline cave.
“But oh, father,” said Ransey, “you should have seen it last night when we lit it up with crimson light!”
“We’ll come again, lad,” replied his father.
They then made their way to the outer opening, and back once more to the inner, where they had left the boat.
It was noticed that James Malone was somewhat silent all the way back to the wreck. And so he continued during breakfast. After this he slowly arose. “Brother,” he said, laying his hand on Halcott’s shoulder, “I have something strange to tell you. Come to the cliff-top, and you too, Tandy, and bring your pipes.”
Book Three – Chapter Eight.
Entombed Alive
It was a very lovely day now. The sea all round towards the eastern side of the island was deep and blue; but the waters to the west were here and there more shallow, so that the ocean here was patched with splendid colouring – tints of opal, tender green, and crimson were set off by the deep dark-brown of a rocky bottom, whereon masses of sea-weed waved with the ebb or the flow of the tide.
There was not a breath of wind to-day, not a whisper in the woodlands; scarce a sound was to be heard, save the drowsy hum of the waves as they broke far below on the beach of snow-white sand, or the occasional screaming of the sea-birds sailing round and round the beetling crags where their nests were.
In very joy they seemed to scream to-day. Happy birds! There was no one to molest them on this far-off beautiful isle of the ocean. No gun was ever levelled at them, not a pebble ever thrown even by Fitz; and so tame were they that they often ran about the cliff-top, or even alighted on the ship itself.
But slowly indeed to-day does James Malone walk towards the cliff. Out through the inner, out through the great outer gate; for he will not feel comfortable until he is clear of the encampment, and seated near to the very brink of that great wall of rocks.
“Gentlemen,” he said, when at last he had filled and lit his pipe with all the coolness of a North American Indian – “gentlemen, hitherto all our efforts to find the gold mine have been in vain, but mere chance has revealed to us the secret that has been hidden from us so long – ”
“James,” said Tandy, excitedly, “you don’t mean to say – ”
“But,” interrupted James, “I do mean to say it, Tandy. Halcott there knows that I seldom make an assertion till I have well-considered the matter on all sides.”
“You never do, brother.”
“That cave, gentlemen, which in so strange a way the children have found, is a gold mine —the gold mine!
“The land entrance I can now remember, although it is somewhat changed. Show me the map of the island, brother.”
Halcott spread it out before him.
He pointed out Fire Hill, then drew his finger along until it rested on the spot where the cave was.
“The fault has been all mine, gentlemen; I alone led you astray, for appearances deceived me. But it is not yet too late.
“And so you see, Tandy, that, after all, Providence has changed our mourning into joy. I do not now despair of anything. God moves in a mysterious way, brothers, and you may rest assured we shall yet return in peace to enjoy the fruits of our labours in the land of our birth.”
Halcott was silent; so too was Tandy for a time.
Need I tell you what they were thinking about? If they could but return with enough gold to give them an independence, how pleasant would be their prospects for the future!
Well, this world is not all sorrow, and it is only right we should enjoy it. I think I can honestly go further, reader, and say it is a sin not to make the best of the beautiful world we live in, a sin to look always at the darkest side when clouds surround us. Let us not believe in the pessimism of Burns when he wrote his dirge “Man was made to mourn,” a verse or two of which run as follows: —
“Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood’s active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported is his right:
But see him on the edge of life,
With cares and sorrows worn;
Then age and want – oh! ill-matched pair! —
Show man was made to mourn.
“A few seem favourites of fate,
In pleasure’s lap carest;
Yet think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest.
But, oh! what crowds in every land
Are wretched and forlorn!
Through weary life this lesson learn —
that man was made to mourn.”
Tandy had risen to his feet, and was looking somewhat anxiously towards Observatory Hill.
The seaman who took day and day about with Fitz in watching was at this moment signalling.
“He wants us to come up,” said Tandy.
“Who knows,” said James, with far more cheerfulness in his voice than usual – “who knows but that our deliverance is already at hand? The man may have seen a ship!”
Halcott and Tandy, about an hour after this, stood beside the man on the brow of the hill, with their glasses turned towards the far-off island.
They could see the beach with far greater clearness than usual to-day.
It was crowded with savages running to and fro, into the bush and out of it, in a state apparently of great excitement.
At this distance they resembled nothing more than a hive of bees about to swarm.
Independent of innumerable dug-outs drawn up here and there were no less than five huge war-canoes.
Tandy turned away with a slight sigh.
“Just as the cup of joy,” he said, “was being held to our lips, ill-fortune seems to have snatched it away.”
“Heigho!” sighed Halcott, “how I envy honest James for the hopefulness that he never appears to lose, even in the very darkest hours, the hours of what we should call despair.
“But look,” he continued, pointing towards Fire Hill. “Not a cloud to be seen!”
“The volcano is dead!” said Tandy, with knitted brows; “and now, indeed, we shall have to fight.”
Halcott took Tandy’s hand, while he looked calmly into his face.
“My friend,” he said, “we have come through many and many a danger side by side, and here we are alive and well to tell it. If fighting it must be with these savages, neither you nor I shall be afraid to face them. But we may succeed in making peace.”
“Ah, Halcott, I fear their friendship even more than their enmity. But for my dear boy and my little girl, I should care for neither.”
And now all haste back to the camp was made.
All hands were summoned, and the case laid plainly before them.
The story of the cave was told to them also, and it did Halcott’s heart good to hear the ringing cheer with which their words were received.
The next thing Halcott ordered was a survey of stores. Alas! this did not take long; and afterwards the defences were most carefully inspected.
On the whole, the outlook was a hopeful one, even if the savages did come in force and place the strange little encampment in a state of siege. Their provisions and even their ammunition would last for three weeks at least.
And – and then?
Ah! no one thought of an answer to that question. They meant to do their best, and trust in Providence for everything else.
But the expected arrival of these warlike natives was not going to prevent them from finding gold, if gold there were in the Medicine-man’s Cave, as it was now named.
So early next morning the discovery party had reached the landward opening. They were provided with lamps to light and hang, with tools, and with provisions for the day.
At the mouth of the cave Fitz was stationed with glass in hand, to watch for a signal to be given from Observatory Hill, in case the boats should start from the distant island.
The lamps were lit at the entrance to the cave, which was gloomy enough in all conscience.
“Surely,” cried Tom Wilson, when they reached the interior and saw the great stalactites, the candles and icicles of glass, and the walls all shining with “rubies and rainbows,” – “surely this is the cave of Aladdin. Ah, it is diamonds as well as gold we ought to be able to collect here, maties!”
And now hours were spent in a fruitless search for the mine. Even the floor of the seaward cave was dug up and its walls tapped, but all in vain.
It was not until they were preparing to leave, that, chancing to hear Bob whining and scraping not ten yards from the outer entrance, Halcott turned his attention in that direction.
A ghastly sight met their gaze! For here lay a pile of human bones half covered with dust, and half buried in the débris that had fallen from the roof.
And near this awful heap, but above it, was a hole about five feet high, and wide enough to admit two men at a time.
The excitement now was intense, but for a time all stood spell-bound with horror.
“Here,” said James, slowly, “is the spot where that fiend, the medicine-man, murdered the boys as an offering to the great fire-fiend. Now we shall find the gold. Come, follow me, men!”
He took a lamp from Tom Wilson’s hand as he spoke, and boldly entered the cave.
It was far from an inviting place where they now stood.
What did that signify to those determined gold-seekers? For hardly had they dug two feet down ere they were rewarded by finding one large, rough nugget of pure gold and several small ones.
They forgot all about the savages now, and nothing could exceed the eagerness with which the men laboured. But fatigue, at last, overcame them, and they were obliged to retire, carrying with them more of the precious ore than many an Australian digger has found during a whole lifetime.
It was very dark as they made their way through the bush; but Fitz was an excellent guide, so they got back in time for supper.
A very happy evening this was, fore and aft, and Tom Wilson seemed the gayest of the gay. The poor fellow had sinned and fallen, it is true, but surely God had already forgiven him. Tom believed so, and it was this belief, he told James more than once, that made him forget his sorrow.
“I’ll meet my wife and children on the other shore,” he said once, with a sad smile, “and they’ll forgive me too.”
In a week’s time the gold fever was at its height. And no wonder, for in whatever direction they dug nuggets were found in this marvellous cave.
The fortune of every man there was made.
But would the gold be of any use to them?
One day, about a fortnight after the wonderful discovery, something very startling occurred. Almost every hour while digging they had heard strange sounds, like the rumbling of heavy artillery along a rough road, with now and then a loud but muffled report, as of a great gun fired in the distance.
No wonder James had remarked that the heathen minds of the savages believed that a great fire-fiend dwelt deep down here, and must be propitiated with human sacrifice.
But on this particular day, after a terrible report, the earth shook and quivered, great masses of soil fell crashing down here and there, and the lamps were all extinguished.
The noise died away like the muttering of a thunderstorm in the far distance.
“Keep quiet and cool, men; we are all right. We can relight the lamps.” It was Halcott who spoke.
Yes, and so they quickly did; but judge of their horror when, on making their way to what had been the entrance to the cave, they found no exit there!
Then the terrible truth revealed itself to them – they were entombed alive!
At first the horror of the situation rendered them speechless.
Was it the heat of internal fires, or was it terror – I know not which – that made the perspiration stand in great beads on their now pale faces?
“What is to be done?” cried one of the men.
“Never despair, lad!” – and Halcott’s manly voice was heard once more – “never despair!”
His voice sounded hollow, however – hollow, and far away.
Book Three – Chapter Nine.
“On Swept the War-Canoes towards the Coral Beach.”
“It was just here, was it not,” said Halcott, “where the entrance was? Keep up your hearts, boys, we shall soon dig ourselves clear.”
Cheered by his voice, every one set himself bravely to the task before him.
But a whole hour went by, and they were now nearly exhausted.
One or more had thrown themselves on the ground panting.
The heat increased every minute, and the atmosphere became stifling. The thirst, too, was almost unendurable.
Even James himself was yielding at last to despair, and already the lights were burning more dimly.
But hark! the sound of the dog barking. His voice seemed ever so far away, but every heart was cheered by it.
Again, lads, again! Up with your spades; one more effort.
The men sprang up from the floor of the cave and went to work now with a will.
Nearer and nearer the dog’s anxious barking sounded every minute.
At last, with a joyous cry, Bob burst through, and with him came a welcome rush of pure air.
They were saved!
Is it any wonder that when they found themselves once more out in the jungle, with flowers and foliage all around them and the breath of heaven fanning their faces, James Malone proposed a prayer of thankfulness?
They rose from their knees at last.
“We have been taught a lesson,” said this honest fellow; “our ambition was far too overweening. Our lust for gold all but found us a grave.”
They had arrived early at camp, so Tandy and Halcott determined to make another visit to Observatory Hill, for the man had once more signalled.
Extra activity was apparent among the savages in the northern island. It was evident enough now that they would not long delay their coming.
The sun set, and soon afterwards darkness fell, but still the man lingered on the hill-top.
And now they could see a great fire spring up, just a little way from the water’s edge, and soon the savages were observed dancing wildly around it in three or four great circles.
It was evident that some horrible orgie was taking place, and they might easily presume that the medicine-man was busy enough, and that a human sacrifice was being offered up to appease the fiends of war, in which those benighted beings so firmly believed.
Next day, and just after breakfast, on looking towards the hill-top, behold the red British ensign afloat on the flag-pole!
Shortly after this the signalman himself ran in.
“They are coming!” he cried; “they are coming!”
“And their strength?” asked Halcott calmly.
“Five great war-canoes, and each one of them contains at least thirty armed warriors.”
“And there may be more to follow. Humph! Well, we shall have to reckon with between two and three hundred at least. What about making overtures of peace to them, brother James?”
Now brother James, as has already been said, was a very practical kind of a Christian.
“Well,” he said, slowly and thoughtfully, “I think, Charlie Halcott, that in this case our duty lies straight and clear before us, and we’ve got to go for it. We shall just be content to make war first, and leave the peace to follow.”
Every man heard him, and the hearty British cheer they gave was re-echoed even from the hill itself.
It was agreed by all, however, that to fight these savages in the open would be but to court death and destruction to all hands.
Other tactics must be adopted. The enemy would no doubt land on the beach, and so the big gun was dragged towards the cliff-top. Here they would make their first stand, and, if possible, sink some of the war-canoes before they had a chance to land.
In savage warfare cover is considered of very great importance. It was determined, therefore, to deprive the invaders of this at any cost, so heaps of withered branches and foliage were collected and placed here and there all around the bay and close to the edge of the wood; and not only there, but on the table-land itself, between the encampment and Observatory Hill.
One of the most active young men was told off to fire those heaps, beginning at the farther side of the bay. His signal to do so would be a rifle, not the gun, fired from the top of the cliff.
In less than three hours’ time the great war-canoes were quite in view, slowly approaching the land. They were still ten miles away, however, and it was evident to every one that they meant to time themselves so as to land on the beach at Treachery Bay about an hour after sunset.
Another hour went slowly by. Through the glasses now a good view could be had of the cannibal warriors. One and all were painted in a manner that was as hideous as it was grotesque. In the first boat, standing erect in the bows, with a huge spear in his hand, the head of which was evidently of gold, for it glittered yellow in the sun’s rays, was a stalwart savage, whom James Malone at once pronounced to be the king. Beside him squatted two deformed and horrible-looking savages, and they also were far too well-known to James. They were the king’s chief medicine-men.
At the bow of each war-canoe, stuck on a pole, was a ghastly human head, no doubt those of prisoners taken in battles fought with tribes living on other islands. There was no doubt, therefore, that their intentions in visiting the Crusoes were evil and not good, and that James Malone’s advice to fight first and make peace afterwards was wise, and the only one to be pursued.
At sunset they were within two miles of the land, and lying-to, ready to make a dash as soon as darkness fell.
The gun belonging to the Sea Flower was a small breechloader of good pattern, and could carry a shell quite as far as the boats.
It was trained upon them, and great was the terror of the king when in the air, right above his head, the shell burst with a terrible roar.
They put about and rowed further off at once.
And now, after a short twilight, the night descended quickly over land and sea.
It was very still and starry, and in a very short time the thumping and noise of the oars told those on watch that the boats were rapidly approaching. And now the rifle was fired.
Sackbut, the young sailor, had been provided with a can of petroleum and matches, and hardly had the sound of the rifle ceased to reverberate from the rocks ere those on the cliff saw the first fire lighted. Running from heap to heap he quickly set fire to them one by one. Up on to the table-land he came next, and so in less than twenty minutes the whole of this part of the island presented a barrier of rolling fire towards the sea.
The fire lit up the whole bay until it was as bright almost as if the sun were shining on it. But the savages were not to be deterred or denied, and so on swept the great war-canoes towards the coral beach.
Yet, although they succeeded at last in effecting a landing, they had paid dear for their daring.
Seven rifles played incessantly on them, and the howls and yells that rose every now and then on the night air told that the firing was not in vain.
Only a few shots were fired from the gun, there being no time, but a shell crashed into the very midst of one of the war-canoes, and the destruction must have been terrible. She sank at once, and probably not more than ten out of the thirty succeeded in swimming ashore.
The sharks had scented the battle from afar, and were soon on the field enjoying a horrid feast.
With that bursting shell the war might be said to have commenced in earnest, and it was to be a war à outrance, knife to knife, and to the death.
The yelling of the savages now, and their frantic gestures as they rushed in mass to the shelter of the rocks, mingling with the crackling and roaring of the flames and the frightened screams of myriads of sea-gulls, was fearful – a noise and din that it would be difficult indeed to describe.
All haste was now made to get the gun inside the first line of defence, load it with canister, and place it where it would be most handy.
And nothing more could be done now until the savages should once more put in an appearance. So Tandy hurried on board, a sadly anxious man indeed. His anxiety was, of course, centred in his little daughter.
Janeira was the first to meet him.
“Miss Nelda?” he said quickly; “where is she, and how is she, Jane?”
“Oh,” replied Jane, “she cry plenty at fuss, sah, cry and dance, but now she done go to bed, sah; come, sah, come.”
And down below she ran.
Poor Nelda! There she lay in her bunk, pale and frightened-looking.
No tears now though; only smiles and caresses for her father. She had one arm round Bob, who was stretched out beside the child, as if to guard her from threatened danger.
But strange and earnest were the questions she had to ask.
Were the savages all killed, and shot, and drowned? Would they come back again? Would Ransey, and Bob, and the ’Rallie, and poor daddie be killed and roasted if the awful men came with their spears and knives, and their bows and arrows?
Tandy did all he could to assure her, and if in doing so he had to equivocate a little, surely he would be forgiven.
As they were still talking, in at the door stalked the Admiral himself. He looked more solemn than any one had ever seen him before. Poor fellow! he too had received a terrible fright, and I suppose he felt that he would never, never care to dance again.
The child called to him, and he came to the bunk-side at once, and lowering his long, beautiful neck, laid his beak across her neck. This was ’Rallie’s way of showing affection.
Then he went slowly and sadly away to the other end of the cabin, and “trussed” himself in a corner.
Tandy stopped for two whole hours with Nelda. She promised to be very good, and not to cry, even if the bad men did come back again.
Then she fell soundly asleep, holding her father’s finger.
He kissed her now and quietly left the cabin, and Janeira herself slipped in and took the camp-stool Tandy had just vacated.
The fire was by this time a long distance away, only the trees that had not been destroyed stood at one moment like black spectres in the starlight, but like rugged pillars of crimson and gold when a puff of wind swept through the woods.
Waiting and watching! Ah, what a weary thing it is! Hours and hours passed by, and if the men of this little garrison slept at all, it was on the bare ground, and with only their elbows for pillows.
But not until far on in the morning watch did the enemy show signs of activity, or give a single token of their presence.
The fire was now too far back for the crackling of the flames to be heard, though its red glare and the cloud of rolling smoke that obscured the sky told that it was still blazing fiercely. The sea-birds had gone to rest once more in the rocks, and everything around the encampment was as silent as the grave. A dread silence – a stillness like that which precedes the outbreaking of some fearful storm!
And all too soon the storm burst.