Chapter Ten.
Refuge Harbour.
Captain Blyth’s valedictory speech was not without its effect upon some at least of the mutineers, who regarded each other with startled eyes, which dumbly but plainly asked the question:
“Is what we are doing worth the risk?”
Williams—who, it need scarcely be said, was one of the hardened ones upon whom the skipper’s words produced no impression—saw plainly what was passing in the minds of the others, and hastened to annul the effect produced.
“That was a very clever speech of the old man’s—very clever,” he remarked sardonically. “There was only one fault about it, and that was that he didn’t speak the truth. He spoke of our seizure of the ship as a crime. Well, maybe it is, according to the law, but we all know by this time that the laws are made in favour of the rich and against the poor; and we know, too, that law is not justice. For my own part, when I perform an act of justice I don’t feel very particular about whether what I am doing is legal or illegal, if it is just it is quite sufficient to satisfy my conscience. The law, shipmates, is nothing—is no safe guide for a man’s conscience, for we know that many a wrong, cruel, and unjust act is still perfectly legal—more shame to those that have the making and the powers of the laws in their hands. If you and I had been dealt with justly instead of merely legally, the money that bought this ship and cargo would have gone into our pockets as wages for the toil and hardship, the suffering and danger that we have been daily exposed to, instead of going as profit into the pockets of the merchants. Therefore I maintain that in seizing this ship and her cargo we have acted with strict justice, inasmuch as that we have merely taken possession of what ought in justice to have been ours at the outset—we have repaid ourselves a portion of the wages that we have been defrauded of during the many years that we have followed the sea. Why, mates, is it fair, or reasonable, or just, to ask a man to risk his life every day, as we do, for three pounds a month? Why, if our wages were three pounds a day it would not be too much. Reckon that up, you Bill Rogers, for all the years you’ve been following the sea, and how much will it amount to? Why, a precious sight more than your share of this ship and her cargo. But, lads, we’ve agreed to have our dues, and we’ll have them, too, every penny of them; and if our only way of getting them is by turning pirates, why let the blame rest with those who have driven us to it. Justice is our right, and we will have it, let who will suffer for it, and upon that point we are all agreed. Aren’t we, shipmates?”
“Ay, ay, of course we are—certainly, give us justice—give us our just rights, we want no more,” murmured the men in response to Williams’ appeal.
“There is only one thing I should like to know,” remarked one man timidly, “and that is, how we are going to manage without murder if we’re going into the pirating business?”
“Ha! is that you, Tom?” remarked Williams satirically. “You are a cautious one, you are; don’t want to run your neck into a noose, eh? Well, you are quite right, shipmate, quite right. But you need not trouble yourselves, any of you, there will be no murder. I have a plan whereby we can avoid all unpleasantness of that kind, and still make ourselves perfectly secure, and I will explain that plan to you in due time, but not now; there are more important matters claiming my attention at this moment. Where is Ned? Here, Ned, bring out the chart and spread it upon the capstan-head, and you, lads, go to your stations.”
Upon which the men retired, their torpid consciences silenced, and themselves more than half convinced of the righteousness of their actions. As for Ned, he muttered to himself as he went off to get the chart:
“Clever fellow—very; a regular sea-lawyer! Wonder who he is, and what he was before he took to the sea? Shall have all my work cut out to get to windward of him.”
Ned soon returned with the chart, which he spread open upon the capstan-head as desired, when Williams and Rogers approached and regarded the document with looks of the profoundest wisdom.
“A queer-looking spot, isn’t it?” remarked Williams to his companion, indicating with a rapid motion of his finger the entire area of ocean lying between Celebes, New Guinea, and the northern coast of Australia.
“Very queer!” assented Rogers, with a solemnity in keeping with the subject.
Whereupon the pair once more inspected the chart for several minutes with the same look of preternatural wisdom as before, to Ned’s intense but covert amusement.
“Very well,” said Williams at length, as though he had finally settled some knotty point to his complete satisfaction. “Now then, Ned, where are we?”
Ned placed his finger on a blank part of the chart and answered, “Just there.”
“Yes,” agreed Rogers, profoundly, “that’s the very identical spot.”
Williams glanced at Rogers with a broad smile of amusement, fully aware that the latter understood a chart about as well as he understood Sanscrit, and then turned to Ned with the remark:
“Now the next place we want, Ned, is a good harbour where the ship can ride it out safely in all weathers, where we can heave her down, if need be, to clear the weeds and barnacles off her bottom, and where we can build stores and what not.”
“Ah!” remarked Ned. “That is a place which has yet to be found.”
“Yes, of course, we know that,” assented Williams sharply. “The question is, where ought we to look for it? Of course you understand it must be a place quite out of the regular track of ships, and not likely to be visited.”
“In that case,” said Ned, “I know of no better place to search than our present neighbourhood. You see that the sea all round the spot where we now are is marked ‘Unknown,’ which means, of course, that very few ships navigate these waters, and I fancy that such can scarcely be said of many other parts of the ocean except such as lie pretty close to the North and South Poles.”
“Very well,” said Williams, “in this matter we must trust to you, and we will therefore search this ‘unknown’ part of the sea. You know best how it should be done, so give your orders, and I will see that they are carried out.”
“In that case,” said Ned, “my advice is this. The wind is still westerly, and a favourable opportunity is therefore afforded for the prosecution of our search to the eastward. Now, from our main-royal-yard a man can see very nearly twenty miles—far enough, at all events, to make out any land at that distance suitable for your purpose. I would propose, then, that we should work a traverse to the eastward, sailing, say, one hundred miles on north by east a half east course, and then wearing round and sailing two hundred miles on a south by east a half east course. This will enable us to examine a strip of sea two hundred miles wide, whilst our northerly and southerly tracks will never be so far apart but what we must sight any land which happens to lie within that two-hundred-mile-wide belt. I would continue the search for say two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles to the eastward; and then, if you fail to find what you want, we must return and begin a systematic search to the westward, unless indeed you feel inclined to take the risk of venturing into better known waters. At night I would heave the ship to, with her canvas so balanced that she will make no headway; and in this way, I think, we may manage to pretty thoroughly explore the proposed track.”
“Yes,” said Williams thoughtfully, “that seems a very good plan. What do you think of it, Rogers?”
“Capital!” observed Rogers approvingly; “couldn’t be better. If there’s any islands about we’re bound to find ’em that way.”
The man spoke in a tone of such thorough conviction that Williams turned and scrutinised his face, as though wondering whether, perchance, the fellow really happened to dimly understand the matter about which they were talking, but the stolid features revealed nothing; so turning away again with a quick smile, he said:
“Very well, Ned, we will try your plan and see what it leads to. Ah! here comes the boat; they are just shoving off from the beach. Lay aft here some of you; overhaul those davit-tackles, and then stand by to hoist up the gig.”
A quarter of an hour later the boat arrived alongside; she was hoisted up, the main-yards were swung, and the ship glided away on a north by east a half east course.
By sunset the ship, with the wind on her quarter, had run a distance of about fifty miles, when she was brought to the wind and hove-to for the night. At daybreak next morning the quest was resumed; and at noon the ship wore, her appointed distance of one hundred miles being completed. This mode of procedure was persevered in until noon of the seventh day after that on which they had landed Captain Blyth and Bob Manners, during which interval several islands had been sighted and examined without result, when, at the time named, Ned discovered by observation that the ship was two hundred and five miles north-east by east of the island which was now the home of those unfortunates. He had just completed his observations and calculations when the look-out aloft reported land on the port bow.
Williams went aloft to take a look at the reported land for himself, and invited Ned to accompany him. The journey to the royal-yard was soon accomplished, and the land was seen. It lay on the horizon like a faint grey cloud; indeed so thin and misty-looking was its appearance that an untrained eye would assuredly have mistaken it for a bank of vapour; but its outlines were so sharply-defined, and its shape so unchanging, that the experienced eyes of the gazers recognised it at once for what it was—namely, good solid earth. It was a long distance off, however—fully forty miles away according to Ned’s estimate—and from its spread along the horizon it seemed to be an island of considerable size. The ship was at once headed for it; but it was five bells in the afternoon watch before it became visible from the deck, and at sunset the ship was still six miles distant to the southward of it. By that time, however, it had become apparent that it was an island of some nine or ten miles in length, with a pretty regular height of about four hundred feet above the sea-level; and its appearance was so promising that it was resolved to heave-to the ship for the night and give the place a thorough examination on the following day. The vessel was accordingly hove about, with her head off the shore; sail was shortened to the three topsails, jib, and spanker, the main-yard was laid aback, and then all hands, except the officer of the watch and a couple of hands to look out, were allowed to go below for the night.
At daybreak on the following morning the Flying Cloud was once more hove about and headed for the land under the same canvas which she had carried during the night, one hand being sent into the main-chains with the sounding-lead. Soundings, in twenty-five fathoms, were struck at a distance of about eight miles from the island; and thenceforward the water shoaled pretty regularly up to a mile from the shore, at which point a depth of five fathoms was met with. This was on the south side of the island, about two miles from its westernmost extremity, and abreast of an inlet which had previously been discovered with the aid of the ship’s telescope. The vessel was now again hove-to, and, a hasty breakfast having been despatched, the gig was lowered and manned; and Ned, accompanied by Rogers, and supplied with a sounding-line and compass, was despatched in her to make a thorough examination of the place.
The boat pulled in, and at length entered the inlet, passing abruptly from the open sea into the shelter afforded by a bold rocky headland about one hundred and fifty feet in height, round the base of which, and over a short projecting reef, the heavy ground-swell dashed and swirled and seethed in snow-white foam with a hoarse, thunderous, never-ceasing roar. This inlet extended in a north-west direction for a distance of a mile and a quarter, its width decreasing from half a mile at the entrance to rather over a quarter of a mile at its inner extremity, with a tolerably regular depth of five and a half fathoms, until within half a mile of its inner end, where the water shoaled to four and a quarter fathoms. The scenery was very striking and beautiful—a sheer precipitous cliff, varying from one hundred and fifty to three hundred feet in height, towering out of the clear translucent water on their larboard hand as they passed in, whilst on their starboard hand the ground sloped gently upward from the water’s-edge for a distance of about a mile and a half inland, where it cut the sky-line as an undulating ridge some four hundred feet in height. The outer or seaward face of the island was densely wooded, the foliage being of every conceivable shade of green, variegated in places with blossoms or flowers, in some cases snow-white, in others a delicate pink; here a deep rich golden yellow, there a tender blue, yonder a flaming scarlet, and, perhaps a little further on, a deep glowing crimson or an imperial purple. And even on the larboard hand, where the cliff rose sheer from the water, the rocky face was only bare here and there, the rest of the cliff being thickly clothed with vegetation.
Arrived at the inner extremity of the inlet, the occupants of the gig rounded a rocky point on their starboard hand, and found themselves in a large basin, roughly circular in shape, measuring about two and three quarter miles long, by about two miles wide, and completely sheltered from every wind that could possibly blow, being absolutely landlocked. This basin was formed by a deep indentation in the land on their starboard hand, the shore of which, starting from the rocky point they had just rounded, rapidly rose almost sheer from the water’s-edge to about the same height as the precipitous cliff on their left, which it strongly resembled in general configuration, being a steep rocky face densely covered with tropical vegetation, in and out of which, by the way, darted numberless birds of brilliant plumage, whilst monkeys were to be seen here and there gambolling among the branches or staring curiously from some projecting pinnacle of rock at the new arrivals.
This basin, which had a depth of eight fathoms, with a rocky bottom in its centre, terminated, at its inner extremity, in a short passage or channel about half a mile wide between two bold rocky bluffs, beyond which another large sheet of water was to be seen; and toward this the gig was headed, the sounding-line being kept busy during the whole progress. As the gig advanced beyond the centre of the first basin, the water was found to shoal gradually, until exactly midway between the two bluffs, a depth of four and a half fathoms only was given by the sounding-line. The bluffs passed, the explorers found themselves in a second and much larger basin, also roughly circular in shape, like the first, but measuring about three and a half miles long by about three miles wide. This basin also was perfectly landlocked, the water being smooth as a mill-pond, and its surface scarcely ruffled by the faintest zephyr, though it was blowing moderately fresh outside. The shore all round sloped very gently up from the water’s-edge, with a gradually increasing steepness, however, further inland, until just before the culminating ridge was reached the inclination appeared to be quite precipitous, giving indeed to the entire basin some similitude to the interior of a gigantic saucer. The slopes here, at least near the water’s-edge, were not quite so densely wooded, the aspect of the landscape being exceedingly park-like, the soil being clothed with a velvety green-sward, thickly dotted with clumps of noble trees. A thin fringe of sandy beach ran all round the edge of this inner basin, except at its eastern or farther extremity, where the stretch of sand widened out to about the eighth of a mile for fully a mile in length. The deepest part of this basin was found to be at a point about a mile and a quarter inside the two rocky bluffs, and from thence it shelved up very gradually, the four-fathom line being struck at about a mile from the eastern shore. It was now discovered, however, that what had originally been taken for one island was in reality a group of four, two other channels being noted, one at the north-east, and the other at the south-east extremity of the inner basin. These channels were at once examined by the explorers, with the result that they were found to be impassable, except by boats. Indeed the north-east channel and one arm of the south-east channel—the latter forking into two channels at a mile and a half from its inner extremity—was found to be practically closed, even to boats, by the existence of formidable reefs outside, over which the surf was so heavy that no boat could possibly live in it. There was, moreover, a sandy bar with only one fathom of water on it at the inner extremity of both channels, but that passed, the water deepened again, until in the case of the south arm of the south-east channel, another bar was reached, over which, by watching their opportunity, the explorers succeeded in taking their boat safely, when they once more found themselves in the open sea. This act of crossing the bar they discovered, when it was too late, was rather a bad move on their part, for it placed them some three miles to leeward of the ship, in a fresh breeze and roughish water; but they fortunately had the boat’s sails with them, and Ned was rather glad than otherwise of an opportunity to discover what the gig could do under canvas and in such circumstances. The masts were accordingly stepped and the sails hoisted, and in about an hour and a half they once more found themselves alongside of the Flying Cloud, those on board her having failed to sight them until they were close at hand, from the fact that the two craft were hidden from each other by a projecting point of land.
It was past two bells in the afternoon watch when the gig rejoined the ship; and Williams was, of course, all anxiety to learn the result of their protracted exploration. There was but one report that could be made—namely, that the place could not be better adapted for their purpose had it been specially constructed for them; and on hearing this, Williams ordered them to at once get their dinners, announcing his intention of taking the ship in forthwith.
Ned was as usual deputed to act as pilot, and accordingly, as soon as he appeared on deck after getting his dinner in the saloon, all hands were called, and sail was made upon the ship. The wind outside was at about west-south-west, which was a fair wind all the way to the spot Ned had fixed upon for an anchorage, except for the passage up the inlet, which trended in a north-westerly direction. This, however, though under ordinary circumstances it would have made the wind rather shy on that course for a square-rigged vessel, gave Ned no concern, as he had observed when passing in with the boat that, owing probably to the height of the cliff on the larboard hand, the wind manifested a tendency to draw up the inlet, and this, when the ship passed in, was found to be sufficiently the case to keep all her canvas full. The passage to the anchorage occupied a considerable time, in consequence of the scantiness of the wind as soon as the ship passed in under the lee of the cliffs, and under other circumstances it might have been tedious; but in the present case it was quite the reverse, the unaccustomed sight of the lofty verdure-clad hills and cliffs, the variegated tints of the foliage, the rainbow hues of the flowers and blossoms, the gaily-painted birds flitting here and there, and the antics of the monkeys fully occupied the attention of all hands, and interested them so completely that the time passed unheeded, and sunset surprised them when still half a mile from their anchorage. Then night fell upon them with the suddenness of the tropics; but the lead was now a faithful guide, and when it announced that the ship had arrived within four and a half fathoms of the bottom the sails were clewed up, the anchor was let go, and the mutineers found themselves at length in a harbour so safe that they might laugh at the winds in their utmost fury.
An anchor watch was kept that night as a precautionary measure, because it was not then known whether the group was inhabited or not; but nothing occurred to alarm the watchers, the only sounds heard being those made by the countless insects on shore or the weird cries uttered by the nocturnal birds. Some of the sounds and cries were certainly uncanny enough to send a creeping thrill through the frame of the listener, but with that exception the night passed peacefully away; and when the hands were turned up next morning to wash decks many was the longing glance which was cast across the water to the bosky glades, which looked so inviting in the bright sunshine.
Williams’ alert eye at length took cognisance of these longing glances, and when at length the task of washing down was completed, the buckets and scrubbing-brushes put away, and the running-gear hauled taut and coiled down, he summoned the men into the waist, and informed them that, prior to beginning upon the somewhat lengthy task which he intended to carry through before again leaving the anchorage, he proposed to have the islands thoroughly explored and examined, the exploration to partake somewhat of the nature of a holiday ramble ashore, when each man, properly armed, would be at liberty to go whithersoever he would, and to spend the day pretty much as he pleased, so long as the question of whether the group was inhabited or not was satisfactorily settled. And he further intimated that that same day would be devoted to the examination; an intimation which was received with enthusiastic cheers.
Upon hearing this announcement Ned—who for reasons of his own was most anxious to keep on fairly good terms with all hands, and especially to so shape his conduct as to remove any suspicions against him which might still be lurking in the minds of the mutineers—at once stepped forward and, stating to Williams his desire to take part in the exploration, requisitioned the dinghy for his own and Miss Stanhope’s use. His request was favourably received, and acceded to with a promptitude which somewhat surprised him; whereupon he hastened into the saloon, and, encountering the steward, gave orders for the preparation of a substantial luncheon basket, after which he apprised Sibylla of his proposed expedition.
Accordingly, as soon as breakfast was over, the two young people set off in the dinghy, Sibylla being seated in the stern-sheets, with the yoke-lines in her hands and the lunch basket at her feet, whilst Ned faced her, handling the diminutive oars—or “paddles,” as the seamen termed them—without an effort. That he had not been unmindful of possible dangers was evidenced by the fact that that he had recommended Sibylla to take with her both her revolvers and a goodly supply of ammunition, whilst, as for himself, he was a perfect walking battery, a pair of revolvers and a small hatchet being stuck into his ammunition belt, whilst a ship’s carbine reposed peacefully in the bows on the coiled-up painter of the boat.
Early as Ned and Sibylla were in leaving the ship, the mutineers had got the start of them, and, observing that the rest of the boats were making for the east and south islands, Ned determined to give them a wide berth, and accordingly paddled away for the north island, which was the largest in the group. He headed for a small strip of sandy beach which he had noticed during the examination of the harbour on the previous day, and after a leisurely pull of more than an hour across the placid waters of the basin beached the boat.
Ned was by nature a keenly observant young gentleman, and the first fact which attracted his attention on landing was that the water in the basin was at exactly the same height on the beach as when they had passed it some hours later on the previous day, from which he at once arrived at the conclusion—afterwards proved to be correct—that there was practically no tide in Refuge Harbour, as Williams at once named the place. But to obviate all possibility of the dinghy being swept away he not only dragged her half her length up high and dry upon the beach, but also planted one of the paddles firmly in the sand and then made fast the painter to it. This done, the lunch basket was stowed carefully away in the shade under the stern-sheets, when, loading and shouldering his carbine, Ned strolled along at an easy pace, so that Sibylla could walk beside him without much apprehension, the beach nowhere showing any footprints, as Ned believed it surely would have done had the place been inhabited.
They struck directly inland, and after traversing the narrow bit of sand reached the green-sward, the thick, luxuriant grass on which reached almost up to their waists. The ground here was open, the clumps of trees which they had noticed from the ship—and which now seemed to be as it were the outposts of a dense forest—not approaching in this particular spot nearer than about a quarter of a mile of the water. But even here there was enough and more than enough to occupy their pleased attention for the moment, the long grass being thickly interspersed with flowering plants and shrubs, adorned with blossoms of most exquisite form, hue, and fragrance. Sibylla, woman-like, must needs at once proceed to gather a bouquet for herself, in which pleasing occupation the next half-hour was spent. And here the pair were somewhat startlingly reminded that there is no Eden without its serpent, for as Sibylla stooped over a shrub loaded with magnificent white azalea-like blooms, one or two of which she desired for the completion of her bouquet, a sharp hissing sound was heard, and she started back with a cry, just in time to avoid a vicious stroke from a small heart-shaped head which suddenly upreared itself from among the leaves of the plant. Ned, however, was close beside her, and whipping out his revolver he fired, blowing the head of the snake clean off.
“Did the creature strike you?” demanded Ned anxiously.
“No,” answered Sibylla; “I was so startled at its sudden appearance and its malignant aspect that I darted back without giving it time to bite. Do you think the creature was venomous?”
“We will soon see,” answered Ned; and searching about in the long grass, which he was careful to divide with the barrel of his carbine, he soon found and held up to his companion’s horrified view the severed head.
“Yes,” he announced, “the brute was undoubtedly venomous. Note the heart-like shape of the head, the heads of all venomous snakes are shaped more or less like that. And see here,” he added, compressing the neck just behind the jaws in such a way as to force the mouth open, “do you observe these two curved needle-like fangs, one on each side of the upper jaw? Those are the poison fangs. And these swellings of the gums at the base of the fangs are the poison bags. They become compressed when the fangs strike into the flesh of a victim, and a drop or two of the venom passes down through the fang, which is hollow, into the wound, and thus the mischief is done. You have had a narrow escape, Miss Stanhope.”
After this little adventure the wanderers conducted their perambulations much more circumspectly, and Ned lost no time in providing his companion and himself with a stout pliant switch, which he had heard or read somewhere is a most effective weapon against snakes.
Soon after this they reached the outskirts of the forest, and it was not long before Ned discovered in a little greed patch of sward a small grove of banana trees with huge bunches of fruit, more or less ripe, depending from the crown of immense palmate leaves. He saw that the trees were of two or three different kinds, and, looking more closely, he quickly discovered that of which he was in search. Then, approaching one of the trees, he reached up and dragged the bunch of fruit down toward him, and, detaching several of the bananas, which were small and of a fine yellow colour, he approached Sibylla, saying:
“Now, let me offer you a treat, in the shape of a few ‘ladies’ fingers;’ so called, I believe, because the fruit is so small and delicate. I scarcely think you will have ever tasted this kind of banana before, because I believe it will not bear transportation to England without spoiling.”
Sibylla tasted the fruit, which she pronounced delicious, and then they resumed their ramble, enjoying their bananas as they went. A little further on they found some magnificent pine-apples, then some granadillas, and shortly afterwards several other fruits were met with, a few of which Ned was acquainted with, whilst others he had never seen before, and these last they very wisely let alone.
When about half a mile distant from the beach they entered the actual forest. Here the trees grew very closely together, whilst the entire space between their trunks was completely choked with a dense undergrowth of parasitic creepers, the long, thin, pliant tendrils of which stretched from trunk to trunk, or hung in festoons from the lower branches, and were so hopelessly tangled up together that progress was quite impossible, except along and through such openings as were the result of accident. Here the ground was quite bare of grass, a thick carpet of dry twigs and fallen leaves taking its place, and the whole aspect of the wood looked so exceedingly unpromising that Ned proposed turning back. Sibylla, however, was not so easily discouraged; she was very desirous of reaching the ridge or highest part of the island, and was not disposed to retrace her steps without at least making the attempt. They accordingly once more moved forward, Ned leading the way, and directing his steps as best he could with the aid of a small compass which he wore attached as a charm to his watch-guard.
They had advanced but a very few yards into this “bush,” as Ned termed it, when they found themselves wandering almost blindly in the midst of a deep, sombre, greenish twilight gloom; the overhead growth being so dense as to almost entirely exclude the daylight, save where, here and there, an accidental break permitted a stray sunbeam to stream down and illumine a space of a few square yards. The effect of these partial illuminations was very beautiful, revealing as they did the long tangled festoons of creepers hanging black and snake-like against the light, and causing the brilliant tints of the variegated foliage and the resplendent hues of the flowers to flash out with dazzling effect against the contrasting shadows. Moreover, these little illuminated patches were alive with huge superbly-coloured butterflies, birds of gaudy plumage, and other winged creatures, whose forms were as novel as the combinations of colours which marked their bodies. They were the scene of a perpetual whirl and flutter of wings, and before they betrayed themselves to the sight their locality could be detected by the sense of hearing from the never-ceasing hum and chirp of the insects and the calls of the birds which frequented them. They were the scenes of an eager, busy, active life; whilst in the twilight depths of the forest everything was deathlike, everything was still—the very air was motionless, not a leaf stirred. The silence was weird, oppressive, and awe-inspiring; and when, at more or less lengthened intervals, a dry twig snapped, a withered leaf crackled, when the soft wafting of the wings of some nocturnal bird was heard among the branches overhead, or the sudden, brief rustling which betrayed the presence of some wild creature smote upon the ear, the effect upon the nerves was startling in the extreme. Through these alternate stretches of gloom and brief illuminated spaces the pair wound their way, Ned leading and clearing the path where necessary with his axe or his stout, serviceable clasp-knife, until eventually, after more than an hour’s toil, they emerged upon a bald, ridge-like eminence which, on looking about them, they found was the highest spot in the entire group.