"Ye come far to seek little," she replied. "This land is desolate. None may live upon it. It is waterless."
"Then we must look farther," I answered. "We are in search of water."
"I can show you where water is," she continued, "if you will come with me."
I hesitated, and Hartog, when he caught the drift of her invitation, bade me on no account trust myself alone with these savages.
"Our boats will be lowered directly," I answered. "Then you may show us where to find fresh water, and we shall be grateful."
"I cannot wait for your boats," she replied. "Come with me now if you are not afraid. Your boats can follow."
It would have shamed me to confess fear to go with these women, and, not dreaming of treachery, I descended to the canoe, while Hartog and the others made ready to follow in the ship's boats. But I had no sooner set foot in the canoe than the four girls, who possessed the strength of young men, began to paddle vigorously toward a point which jutted out on the western side of the bay in which the "Golden Seahorse" lay at anchor. We soon rounded the point, when we lost sight of the ship. Thinking that all this was intended for a jest, I remonstrated with my beautiful captor, and called upon her to bid the girls cease rowing until my companions should come up with us; but at this she only laughed, and at a word from her the girls redoubled their exertions until the canoe seemed to fly over the surface of the water. We now approached a precipice, which rose sheer out of the sea, and, as we drew nearer, I observed a tunnel into which the water rushed with the force of a mill-race. It then came to my mind that this was the current I had read of which ran into the earth, and along which shipmen had been carried, never to be heard of again.
I glanced at the woman who had kidnapped me in this strange fashion seemingly with the object of enticing me to my doom. Her face was set and stern; with both hands she grasped a steering paddle, with which she guided the canoe into the rushing stream. The girls had ceased rowing, and were crouched together in the frail craft, which now, caught by the hand of Nature, was carried with incredible speed into the darkness of the unknown.
How long we were in the tunnel I cannot say. It seemed an eternity, but it could not actually have been very long. The speed at which we travelled was so great as to make the drawing of the breath difficult, and a strange humming sound—very loud-made it impossible to speak or even to cry out. I had abandoned hope and resigned myself to death when suddenly we emerged from the tunnel into a blinding sunshine, which dazzled the eyes after the darkness. Once more we had come to the open sea.
The girls resumed their paddles, and now began to urge the canoe toward one of two islands visible on the horizon about thirty miles apart.