“Oh, bless you, sir! yes, you will,” said Dickinson confidently. “Ralli’s taken a mortal dislike to you all, and ’specially to Mr Evelin,—sorry I am to say so,—and he just hates to be dictated to. Now, whatever you want, just let Mr Evelin tell him he ought to do the opposite of it, and, take my word for it, he’ll just go and do exactly what he thinks you don’t want him to; he’ll do it out of sheer contrariness. But, whether or no, now that we knows what’s wanted, we—that’s me and my mates—we’ll do as much of it as we can, and you’ll have to manage Ralli so’s to get the rest.”
“Very well, Dickinson,” said the skipper, “we understand each other fully now, so I will not detain you any longer. Do what you can to forward the plan, and let us know from time to time what success you are meeting with.”
“All right, sir, I will; thank’ee, sir. Good-night, ladies and gentlemen all.”
And Dickinson, taking the hint, retired.
The gentlemen sat for an hour or two after that, talking over matters as they smoked their pipes, and then Captain Staunton, Lance, and Bowles rose and left the cottage to pay a visit to the cavern.
In due time they reached the place, proceeding at once to the chasm, where they forthwith commenced a vigorous but unsuccessful search for the origin of the mysterious sounds which had disturbed the ladies. Finding nothing, they began their task of conveying the gold collected that day across to the heap on the other side of the gulf. This heap was now assuming goodly proportions. There was more of it than an ordinary ship’s boat could take at a single trip, even in the calmest of weather; and Lance was in the act of remarking to Captain Staunton that he thought enough had now been collected to satisfy their every want, when a weird, unearthly moan smote upon their ears from the depths of the abyss. The sound, though not particularly loud, was so startling, echoing and reverberating, as it did, among the cavernous recesses far below, that the work was brought to a sudden standstill, and the three bewildered men felt their hair bristling as they listened.
“What, in Heaven’s name, can it be?” ejaculated the skipper as he turned his startled gaze upon Lance.
“Impossible to say,” answered the latter. “One thing, however, is certain; no human lungs could possibly give utterance to such a sound. And yet I don’t know; the echoes of the place may have the property of magnifying and prolonging it. Hillo, there! is there anyone below?” he continued, raising his torch aloft and peering with craned neck down into the black depths of the chasm.
There was no response. And the light of the torch was quite inadequate to the illumination of more than a few feet from the surface.
“It is possible that, if there is anyone down there, he may be unable to hear me. Sound rises, you know. Here, Bowles, come across to this side. We will unite our voices and see if that will evoke any response,” said Lance.