WE FIND A HAVEN OF REST IN A WONDROUS LAKE; BUT ARE NIGH BEING SUCKED INTO A WHIRLPOOL.

We swiftly left the island behind us, for this lake (as I call it), which had been pretty still when we entered it, was now hurrying along with the force of any mill-stream. The water was orange-tawny with the mud and sand it had swept up in its course, and littered all over with great trees and bushes; and this wreck on it, with the desolation all around, and the vast extent and the mighty force of it, did strike us both with awe and a feeling of our littleness and helplessness, so that we could not speak for some time. However, we presently found some consolation in perceiving that the rain had ceased to fall, and that betwixt the black clouds was here and there a rift of blue, which was the first we had seen of the sky for six weeks or thereabouts; and with this we grew more cheery, and even the conies began to prick their ears and nibble of some herb we had torn up for them the last thing before putting off.

My attention was soon diverted from these trifles by more serious matters; for being carried to that end of the lake whence the waters issued in a narrow passage betwixt two high rocks as through the neck of a funnel, it was with the utmost ado I kept our canoe in mid-stream and clear of those bushes and trees which, as I have said, were scattered abroad, and here by the confluence of the flood we were brought into such close quarters that at every turn the canoe was threatened to be nipped in their embrace or swept into the midst of the wreck and lumber that ground painfully against the banks, where our frail bark (as I may truly call it) would in a moment have been crushed like a thing of paper, and we with it.

To make matters worse, the course of the river was impeded by sundry huge rocks standing up here and there, which threw the stream into violent convulsions of eddies and torrents that no force of man could resist, so that one minute we faced one way, and the next another, to our great confusion and imminent peril, for out of all this trouble of rocks, bushes, trees, dead carcasses of cuacuparas,[5] and the like, there was promise of a speedy end (by death) to all our troubles; and certain I am that but for the help of Providence we had never come out of these straits alive.

How long we were in this pickle, whether five minutes or five hours, I know not; but I take it few men are so plagued in eighty years. And not one instant of repose was there either for me or my dear lady (who throughout kept a cool head, and helped with one of the oars to stave off this or that floating thing as surely and stoutly as any man), for ere we were out of one danger we were into another, and destruction menacing us on all sides.

It seemed that our condition could be no worse than it was; but whilst I was laying this fool's flattery to my heart, for its encouragement, my Lady Biddy cries suddenly:

"Hark, Benet! What can that noise be?"

Then straining my ears, yet still battling with trees, rocks, etc., I caught the sound her finer ear had first detected, which was like the rushing of a great wind at a distance. This perplexed me greatly for a space, for there was but a little air stirring; but at length, growing more used to the sound, which increased every instant, I hit upon an explanation of it which struck despair into my soul.

"Lord help us!" says I, "'tis the cataract we were warned against by the Ingas."

"Oh, what is to be done?" says she.

"Nay," says I, dropping my oar, "there is nothing to do now but to perish, dear cousin."

But she was not minded to perish tamely thus; and seeing we were drifting upon a tree, deftly turned her oar to my side and pushed the canoe from it, to our immediate salvation. Thus put to shame for my cowardice, I picked up my oar and strove again vigorously to keep in clear water.

But now the roaring of that fall was grown to the loudness of thunder, and casting my eye that way I perceived a kind of cloud rising above the river, which was nothing but the vapor thrown off by the heat of this vast river in falling such a prodigious depth.

Hitherto we had striven only to keep to the middle of the river, but now I glanced to the side, for there only might we chance to escape being engulfed in the cataract; though only to be crushed amidst the tearing heaps of timber that swept the shores. To my astonishment, I saw nothing but steep rocks on either hand; for being entirely occupied in steering away from the floating masses on the river, I had taken no note of the changing character of the country we had entered. In that glance I perceived there was no escape by the sides; so that there seemed truly no way but to go down with the water into that terrible abysm.

And yet my spirits recoiled from such an end, being stirred up to a desperate antagonism by the frightful noise of the waters, that appeared to me like the impatient roaring of some great cage of famished lions awaiting their meal.

Lady Biddy glanced round her at the same moment, and I saw no look of hope in her face. In truth, she saw no escape, for now we were come within the cold vapors of the fall, that fell on us like an autumn mist; and so she turned her face to me, and seeing naught but despair there, her face lit up with a gentle smile, and she held forth her hands for me to take. Her lips moved as I clasped her dear hand, and though I could hear never a sound from the thundering of the fall now close to our ears, I knew full well that those last words were, "God bless you, dear Benet!"

The thought that she must die, so beautiful and sweet, and still but in the budding season of her life, and that after enduring so much, and striving so bravely and heartily, did fire me with a very madness of revolt against Providence, which, as I wickedly conceived, had doomed this dear girl, against all reason, justice, and mercy, to death; so that with a furious cry I caught up my oar and struck it wildly against a rock upon which we were being carried.

The shock of this encounter bent the oar till it snapped, though it was made of the toughest wood that grows in those parts, but it saved us; for this lusty blow turned us about from the current that was to the left of these rocks into that which sped to the right, and whereas that to the left went not more than two fathoms off over that mighty fall, the right passed through an opening in this rocky shore which we had not hitherto perceived, and here were we safe—at least, from destruction in that frightful fall, thanks be to God. And here could I diverge likewise one moment from the course of my history to point out the heinous folly of those who abandon themselves to despair, under the conviction that Providence has decreed their destruction, which it were useless to struggle against; for in thus yielding they do more surely oppose the decree of Providence, which hath given us functions expressly to preserve ourselves.

And now, I saw, we were in a manner safe, for though the stream was swift and strong, much encumbered from wreckage torn from the banks, etc., and obstructed with rocks where the waters shot down with incredible force, carrying us into divers eddies and whirlpools below, yet were our ears unassailed by that fearful roar of torrents which had paralyzed us. And after a while being carried through that chain of hills we came in view of a great plain, flooded over as far as the eye could reach, so that it looked like nothing but a vast sea, which flood was naught but the overflow of the River Baraquan, poured through the passage by which we had escaped the great falls. Here was there no current except on the verge of the hills, and that running gently; and as these hills ran westward we kept our canoe in the stream, hoping that it would run again into the Baraquan at a safe distance below the falls, which seemed to me the more likely because it bore towards a gap in some reasonably high mountains hemming in the plain to the southwest.

After running about two hours, as I judge, at about a league and a half to the hour, and passing through this gap, though with such diminished speed that I had to use my oar, we came into a lake of still water, about a mile across, and shut in all around with a ragged wall of crystal or silver, I know not which—only this I will answer for, that when a ray of sunlight touched them for a minute the eye was blinded by the dazzling glister. On some parts this wall of rock rose flush from the water; but elsewhere there was a little sloping ground fairly well wooded, but so flooded with the water that had streamed into this basin from the Baraquan that some of the trees on the border rose not more than four fathoms above the surface.

Issue from that lake saw I none, save by the passage we had entered; but I did not concern myself greatly on this head then, my main anxiety being to find some refuge where we might repose, for the day was drawing to a close. Not a morsel of food has passed our lips for nigh on twenty-four hours; and what with our exertion, terror, and hunger we were spent and sick.

To this end I paddled the canoe towards those rocks which rose (as I have said) sheer from the water, and by good luck we came to a craggy part on the western side which led up to a deep cavern, which, to our great comfort, we found as dry as any barn. But that which contented me as well as anything in this cavern was a great bank of dry leaves in the further extremity, the product of countless years, borne hither by the winds, which in these parts do constantly blow from the east.

"Here," thinks I, with glee—"here shall my dear lady lie warm and dry at least this night."

However, before deciding this way we made a fire of dry leaves, to be sure there was no savage beast or venomous worm hiding in the cavities; but there was no sign of any live creature having been there before us, save birds, whereof were some empty nests in the crevices. So hither we transported the goods from our canoe, not forgetting those acutis we had brought with us; and having satisfied the cravings of nature with what broken victual we had (being more hungry than nice), we knelt down side by side with one accord, and rendered thanks to God for his mercy to us. Indeed, our hearts were full of gratitude and peace; so that when our lips had ceased to speak, our spirits were yet very still and meditative. Thus it came about that instead of setting to (as I intended) to make some sort of sleeping-chamber for my gentle lady, I sat down beside her on a little knoll, and through the mouth of our cavern we watched the pink light fade out of the pearly clouds in silence.

Before I could rouse myself to an active disposition my sweet little comrade, quite overcome by the fatigue of that long day, fell asleep where she sat. First her chin drooped upon her breast, and then inclining towards me, her shoulder rested against my side, whereupon, to give her support, I put my arm about her body, with no unholy intent, but reverently, as any father might encircle his child. Presently she raised her head with a deep-drawn breath, and all unconscious laid her face against my breast, and so fell again into a deep slumber, with the innocent calm of a little child. And, though her pretty head was so near that I might have touched it with my lips, I did not take advantage of her unconsciousness in this way (thanks be to God), nor in any other which would give me shame to remember, my heart being filled with an ecstasy of pure love, softened with a compassionate sorrow, that one of her sex and condition should be brought, by rude hardship and cruel fortune, to this pitiful estate.

When she gave signs of awakening, I made a feint of yawning and stretching my arms, and then jumping up I cried:

"Lord, cousin, I do believe we've been a-napping!"

"Why, where are we, Benet?" says she.

"That we will presently see," says I; and putting some leaves on the embers that yet glowed, I blew them up into a flame, and by this light in a twinkling I set up a mat with the oar and a half that were left us, and begged my lady to repose herself, if she would make a shift with that poor accommodation, for the night.

The next morning being tolerably fair we made a voyage around our lake, and though we examined the inlets and rocks closely we could discover no issue, save that (as I have said afore) by which we had come in, where the waters were still flowing in pretty freely. This perplexed us considerably, for besides the stream from the Baraquan there were constantly falling into the lake some half a dozen runnels from springs in the rocks; yet, as we could plainly see, the water had not risen in the night, but rather fallen away if anything. However, on taking a second turn round the lake, we were like to have had this mystery explained in a fashion that was more conclusive than agreeable; for coasting closer than heretofore by these rocks that rose sheer out of the water, we felt ourselves suddenly within the influence of a current, which drew us with incredible velocity towards a deep vortex of whirlpool, by which these waters were drawn into some subterraneous passage through the rocks, and 'twas only by employing our utmost strength and skill that we thrust our canoe out of the flow, and so (thanks be to God!) escaped being sucked into that horrid gulf.

When we were somewhat recovered of the disorder into which this late peril had thrown us, I pointed out to my lady that there appeared no way of escaping from our captivity but by the stream that had brought us thither. "For," says I, "'tis questionable if ever we can scale those steep and slippery rocks that surround us."

"And could we do so," says she, "we must go empty-handed, for sure we could never drag our canoe up there, nor any of those things that are necessary to us. Nor have we any assurance that we shall be better off on the other side of those rocks than on this."

"You are in the right of it," says I; "then there remains nothing for it but to get back into the Baraquan as best we may."

"Ay," says she, "but we must assuredly wait until the rainy season is past—which has but just begun—for 'twere madness to venture again into such dangers as we have by a miracle escaped."

On hearing this I turned aside, that she might not read in my face the exultation of joy that filled my heart. And so as I made no reply she said in a rallying tone:

"Are you very anxious to get rid of me, Benet?"

'Twas on my tongue to answer, "If I could make captivity endurable to you, I would never take you from these rocky confines"; but I kept these words to myself, though what reply I stammered in their place I can not recall to mind.


CHAPTER LIX.