Fire Mountain / A Thrilling Sea Story

by Norman Springer

The sailor took a turn about his body with the bight of the rope, and leaned back, holding a steady strain upon the tackle. Martin could see now why they had fetched a tackle, and not just a length of rope—there were no boldly jutting rocks about which a rope might be looped and knotted, but the hooks of the blocks fitted into the small inequalities the edges of the walls presented. So long as a strain was kept upon the hauling line, the hooks would bite, and the lifeline would be quite safe.

Martin followed this work with a watchful eye. He was on the lookout for a chance to execute his plan, waiting for a careless moment on the part of those about him, which would give him an opportunity to free his hands, and strike his blow.

For this was the time and the place! Here, by the edge of the abyss, must come his opportunity, his only opportunity. Somehow he must get possession of Ichi's revolver, the only firearm in the crowd. If he obtained that, he might be able to hold this gang at bay, and prevent them returning to the ship until after the bosun's surprise party. Or, failing that, he could surely finish some of them before their sharp knives finished him. He could dispose of Ichi.

And this was the only plan he had. To fight, and to sacrifice himself, if need be. He had dismissed the thought of escape, of making a dash and losing himself in the black caves. He could do that, he knew. But his escape would not help his shipmates; it would not save Ruth.

He knew that if he did not run for it, his death was almost certain. If he fought, when he fought, he would be killed. If he did not make his chance to fight, Ichi would murder him as soon as the ambergris was discovered—he was sure this program was agreed upon by Carew and Ichi. And if the ambergris were not discovered he would be given over to Moto for torture. Martin was afraid of Moto, and a little bit afraid of death—but his fear for himself was quite overshadowed by his other great fear, his fear for Ruth. His fate was nothing. But her fate! It was because of Ruth he disdained an attempt at flight; it was for Ruth he would strike his blow, and take death if it came.

Hence Martin stood meekly by while the sailors rigged the line, and watched for his chance. Moto's eyes remained fixed upon him unwaveringly; Ichi was surrounded by his men. The moment was not yet.

Martin could not help according the little yellow men a certain admiration. They were frightened, plainly terrified, by this gloomy cave, and especially by the gruesome sounds that came from the "deep place." But their native courage, or, perhaps, the iron discipline to which they were accustomed, caused them to fight down their superstitious fears. Even Ichi, himself, was visibly unnerved by his surroundings. "Scientificness" and "Fate" evidently could not stop his ears, nor quite eradicate inherited fears. But he held his disquiet firmly under control, and his bearing was sure as he shouted his orders—only a side glance into the hole, and a momentary shudder, betrayed his nervousness.

Ichi placed his lantern on the ground, beside the man who was holding the line, and beckoned to Martin. Then he stepped out upon the ledge, one steadying hand upon the tackle.

For the fraction of a second, Martin hesitated to follow. "What if they shove me over?" he thought. His hands were useless, doubled behind him; if Moto were to give him the slightest shove, over the edge into that dreadful hole he would go, for he would have no saving grip upon the lifeline. But the instant's reflection reassured him. They would not try to get rid of him until the treasure's hiding place were discovered; and by that time he would have made his opportunity to strike.

He followed Ichi. Although the comforting touch of the lifeline was not for him, his nerves were steady, and he did not falter on the glassy, inclined way. Ichi minced his steps, compelling Martin to shorten his stride. Martin saw that Ichi was trembling, and gazing fearfully into the abyss. He had an impulse to throw himself upon Ichi, and roll with him over the edge. But then, he thought, this blow would not help his shipmates; indeed, it would harm them, for the rest would immediately scurry back to the ship. No, he must try to get the revolver into his hand.