By this time a strange alteration had taken place in the weather. The sun, which had been shining brilliantly, now gradually changed in appearance till it grew copper-coloured; then its light came through a thick haze, which gradually darkened, and they were screened from the burning rays by a black cloud, which grew more and more dense, and seemed to float only a few hundred yards above their heads.
“A bad storm coming,” said Mark, “but it may not break till we get to the bay.”
Judging from appearances, however, it was likely to pour out its waters upon them at any moment; while, to add to their excitement, from over the jungle there were deep thunderous noises as if the storm were raging right in the interior.
The journey seemed interminable, but in spite of the thunder and coming darkness they toiled on, keeping a sharp look-out over the lagoon lest those they sought should have been in the gloom.
By degrees, though, the obscurity grew less, and seemed to be slowly floating in the direction of the praus. Once there was the wave-like motion of the earth again, making them catch at each other to keep themselves from falling, and then the sun appeared, growing momentarily more bright as it passed out from behind the dense black cloud which was gathered about the mountain, rolling along its flanks as they came to an opening in the jungle, and then appearing to circle slowly round and round.
The hours crept by as they toiled on exerting themselves to the utmost, for one of the dreads that oppressed them, now that they were out of sight of the praus, was that they would not get to Crater Bay before their friends started to go round the other way, though, saving on their own account, there was a certain hopefulness about their position, since the last they had seen of the praus showed them that they were coming their way, and therefore they might not see the gig and its occupants after all.
There was no fear of the captain passing the fugitives now, for as evening approached the lagoon was perfectly clear and the sky of a dazzling blue, but there seemed to be no end to the weary tramp over the hot sands, and at last Mary looked so exhausted that they were obliged to take shelter under a tree at the edge of the jungle.
“How much farther is it, Mark?” said Mrs Strong.
“About six miles,” he replied. “Look here, Jimpny, we must wait here now. You go on and warn my father, and they’ll come back with the boat.”
“I shall be better soon,” said Mary; but there was such a look of exhaustion in her eyes that Mark knew she would not be able to proceed, and he signed to the man to go on.