As It Was in the Beginning

by Philip Verrill Mighels

Elaine was engaged in weaving two nets, in which these clay vessels could be carried. With a yoke for Grenville's shoulders, or even for her own, a pair of the jugs could thus be fetched at once and the labor thereby materially hastened, should a moment arrive in which such haste would be wise.

It was ever disturbing to her mind to reflect on this possible need. The thought was never wholly absent from her as she watched the horizon, far and near, for the steamer that did not come. Not even in her happiest moments—and many were happy, she confessed, despite all the hardships of their daily life, as they two toiled together, an exiled pair alone in this tropical garden—not even in these was that sinister, underlying motif too indistinct to be acknowledged. It hung like a thing in vague suspense above their every occupation, throughout the day and night.

A tremor more tangible played through her breast as Elaine watched Grenville take a torch as before and depart for the third of his visits to the cave.

Without consulting the lord and master of the island, she moved her work from the shelter of her "house" to the cliff-edge, from which she could watch him a time before he should come to the cavern itself and so be lost to sight.

She was thus enabled, unobserved, to inspect him, to her heart's content, as Grenville came rowing his raft along the tide, far down below her rocky aerie.

The man was absorbed in the task thus set to be accomplished. He did not look up, as Elaine thought he might, as he skimmed along under the wall.

When he came to the cave he was somewhat surprised at the wreckage his blast had accomplished. Not only was the former ledge completely shattered, but much had fallen below in the sea, while the wall to the right, where the bomb had expended its energy, was agape with new-formed fissures.

Chiefly concerned with the dam of rock, Grenville secured his raft with boyish impatience and carried his torch ashore. A moment afterwards he walked through the breach in the erstwhile solid ledge, and could readily imagine the roar with which the water, formerly behind the barrier, had tumbled torrentially into the swirling tide.

There was still a tiny trickle flowing down the channel made by the bomb. The basin formed by the bottom of the cavern was still exceedingly damp, and here and there it retained a shallow pool of water too low for the gateway to drain. He walked about freely, pausing here and there to hold his torch aloft and measure the cave's dimensions by means of the light from both the open entrance and his blazing, yellow flame.

He was struck, in gazing at the wall he had broken near the cavern's mouth, with the size of one of the fissures there, where the blast had wrought its havoc. So black and significant appeared this new-formed aperture that, although a certain eagerness to proceed forthwith to the treasure niche was upon him, he returned at once to investigate the hole.