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.