The negro tried again, and with such vigour that he not only displaced the block of wood, but burst in several planks which concealed the entrance to a cavern. They fell on the stone floor with a crash that aroused a multitude of echoes in the dark interior. At the same moment something like a faint shriek or wail was heard within, causing the hearts of the three listeners to beat faster.
“Did you hear that, Hockins?”
“Ay, I heard it sure enough. What is it, think ’ee, lad!” said the seaman to the negro.
Ebony, who was gazing into the dark cavern with glaring eyeballs and distended nostrils, replied—
“My advice to you is, let’s go back de way we come. Dis no place for ’spectable Christians.”
“Do you fear ghosts?” asked Mark, smiling, yet at the same time bringing his gun into a convenient position, with his finger ready on the trigger.
“I fears nuffin,” returned the negro with a proud look, while beads of perspiration stood on his brow.
“Then ye’re a braver man than I am, Ebony, for I fear that climbin’ plant worse than a ghost; so here goes to find out what it is.”
Although the sailor spoke thus boldly, and tried to look cool, it is certain that he also was afflicted with sensations of an unusual description, which, of course, he would have scorned to admit were the result of fear! His power of will, however, was stronger than his fears. Drawing his cutlass, he was about to enter the cavern, when Mark laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Come, Hockins, you have accepted my lead hitherto. It is not fair to take it out of my hands at this critical point.”