The island of the stairs

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

“Well, then, let’s chance it.�

I had thrust the pistols in my belt, save for the one she carried, and had the musket in my hand. I looked to the priming of them so that I could depend upon them in case of an emergency, although I confess I did not expect anything to happen. Save for the sound of the wind and waves and our own voices the place was pervaded by that sort of deadly stillness which indicated the absence of humanity, or even the larger forms of animal life. Except for the birds of gorgeous plumage and the gulls and other sea fliers I believed we were absolutely alone on the island.

Then we began the ascent. It was easy enough for me, but hard for her, and several times I made bold to lift her up the higher steps, which she suffered without comment or resistance. She told me long afterward that my manner toward her then and thereafter had been perfect. I had determined in my heart to show her that although I could snatch a kiss on the quarter-deck of a crowded ship, on an island, alone, I could treat her with all the courtesy and consideration of the very finest gentleman of her acquaintance.

When we at last reached the top, before us lay a broad pathway rudely paved with the same hard stone. This road led straight across the top of the wall toward the interior of the island, of which we could see as yet nothing, because the wall hereabouts was covered with dense, luxurious vegetation and seemed of great thickness, perhaps a mile or more, as we found as we traversed the way. Progress was difficult even in the pathway. It would have been impossible in some places but for my heavy cutlass with which I cut a path where the place had become overgrown by trees and bushes which had forced their way through the cracks, overturning and breaking the heavy flagstones and blocking up the path, which, it was evident, had not been traversed for generations; perhaps not since the old buccaneer himself had walked along it beneath the spreading trees.

There was naught for it but to continue along the rude paved way, for it was impossible to penetrate the jungle on either side, even if we had desired it, and once more looking to my weapons, one of which I kept in hand, although I was sure now we should not need them, and had indeed nothing to fear, we followed the ancient way. For perhaps a mile we pursued our journey across the top of the wall, winding in and out among the trees, through the jungle, the path evidently seeking the most level direction, for the top of the wall was very much broken and irregular.

At last we came to an open spot on the inner edge overlooking the whole island, and before us lay such a picture as few eyes, at least of our race, had ever looked upon. The wall ended abruptly and fell downward, on the inner or landward side, as precipitously as it rose outwardly and to seaward. Before us lay a most entrancing valley, perhaps three or four miles across, and maybe half as long again in the other direction, and which was walled about in every direction. It was sunk beneath this wall crest for perhaps one hundred feet or more. In the center of the valley the land rose a little higher than the island wall, making a very considerable hill, tree crowned on the slopes, but largely bare save for more images, on the crest. Through the valley ran a brook which ended in a little lake, which I suspected had some subterranean connection with the ocean. As far as we could see, and the whole circuit of the island was now clearly visible to us, the enclosing wall was unbroken. The valley was filled with clusters of trees and alternating stretches of grassy meadow. Why it was not completely overgrown with trees I could not imagine. Perhaps the ground was too shallow in places for trees to grow.

We would have been hard put to it to descend the wall to the valley, but for the fact that the same people who built the stairs that gave access to the wall from the sea had also built a similar flight which made the descent to the valley possible, indeed easy. Before we essayed the descent of the stairs, we drank our fill of the beauty and mysterious charm of it all. Indeed, there was no sound that came to us except the twittering of the birds, of which there were many brilliantly plumaged flitting in the trees. All else was still, lonely, deserted, oppressively so in fact.

I was constrained to think of our situation as we scanned the lonely prospect in silence. A man and a maid cast away upon an absolutely deserted island rising from the most unknown and unfrequented seas on the globe, seemingly with no chance on earth of escape therefrom. The one possibility of getting away, The Rose of Devon, worse than useless to us because of her evil crew. What were we to do? What could we expect? Suppose we found the treasure, of what value would it be to us?

I cursed myself for my weakness in allowing my lady to come upon this voyage of death and disaster. I wished that I had destroyed Sir Geoffrey’s letter. And yet as my glance fell upon her my thoughts changed. A man and a maid, I have said. Distinctions of rank did not exist in the Garden of Eden. This was the world’s first morning again, and by my side, dependent utterly upon me, stood—Eve! My heart beat, my face flamed at the thought. Here, if nowhere else, she might—

“What think you of this?� my lady broke the silence, and she broke more than the silence, for her words recalled me to my better sense again.