BOB FOUND
It took Mrs. Wolston some time to recover from her terrible shock. But
Bob was restored to her, and that comforted her.
It appeared that Bob, playing with the albatross, had followed it to the
back of the cave. The bird made its way in through the narrow passage,
and Bob went after it. A dark excavation opened out at the end, and when
the little fellow wanted to get out of this he found that he could not.
At first he called, but his calls were not heard. Then he lost
consciousness, and nobody knows what might have happened if by the
luckiest chance Fritz had not happened to hear the cry of the albatross.
“Well,” said the boatswain, “now that Bob is in his mother’s arms again,
everything is for the best. Thanks to him we have discovered another
cave. It is true we haven’t any use to put it to. The first one was
enough for us, and as a matter of fact we ask nothing better than to get
away from that one.”
“But I want to find out how far it runs back,” Captain Gould remarked.
“Right to the other side of the cliff, do you fancy, captain?”
“Who can tell, Block?”
“All right,” the boatswain answered. “But even supposing it does run
through the cliff, what shall we find on the other side? Sand, rocks,
creeks, promontories, and as much green stuff as I can cover with my
hat.”
“That’s very likely,” Fritz replied. “But none the less we must look.”
“We’ll look, Mr. Fritz; we’ll look. Looking costs nothing, as the saying
is.”
The investigation might have such priceless results that it had to be
undertaken without delay.
The captain, Fritz, and Frank went back to the end of the cave. The
boatswain walked behind them, armed with several big candles. To make
the way easier, those in front enlarged the aperture by removing some
more of the stones which had fallen into it.
A quarter of an hour sufficed to make the opening large enough. None of
them had put on flesh since they had landed. Only the boatswain had not
lost weight since he had left the _Flag_.
When they had all got through, the candles gave sufficient light for
them to examine this second excavation.
It was deeper than the first one, but much narrower, a hundred feet or
so long, ten or twelve feet in diameter, and about the same height. It
was possible that other passages branched off from it and formed a kind
of labyrinth inside the massive cliff. Captain Gould wondered whether
one of these branches might not perhaps lead, if not to the top of the
cliff, at any rate beyond the bluff or the bastion.
When Captain Gould urged this point again John Block replied:
“It certainly is possible. Who knows whether we shan’t reach the top
through the inside, although we couldn’t do so outside?”
When they had gone some fifty feet through this passage, which gradually
got narrower, Captain Gould, the boatswain, and Fritz came to a wall of
rock before which they were obliged to stop.
John Block passed the light all over its surface from the ground to the
vault, but found only narrow fissures into which the hand could not be
put. So there was no more hope of penetrating further through the solid
mass.
Nor did the side walls of the passage disclose any aperture. This second
excavation beyond the first cave was the sole discovery resulting from
the incident.
“Well,” said Captain Gould, “it’s not by this way that we shall get
through the cliff.”
“Nor over it,” added the boatswain.
And, having made sure of that, they could do nothing but go back.
As a matter of fact, although it was rather disappointing not to find
any inner passage, nobody had thought it likely.
And yet when Captain Gould and John Block and Fritz got back, they had a
feeling of being more confined than ever on this shore.
During the next few days the weather, very fine hitherto, showed signs
of changing. Light clouds, which soon grew thicker, obscured the blue
sky, blown over the plateau above by a northerly breeze which, in the
evening of the 22nd of January, strengthened until it blew a gale.
Coming from that quarter, the wind was no menace to Turtle Bay.
Sheltered by the cliff, the bay was not exposed to the breakers, as it
had been in the violent storm which had caused the destruction of the
boat. The sea would remain calm along the shore, not getting the force
of the wind nearer than a good mile and a half from the coast. Even if a
hurricane burst there would be nothing to fear.
A heavy thunderstorm broke on the night of the 22nd. About one o’clock
in the morning everybody was awakened suddenly by a crash of thunder
that made a more appalling noise than a cannon fired at the mouth of the
cave could have done.
Fritz, Frank, and the boatswain sprang from their corners, and rushed to
the door.
“The lightning struck quite close by,” said Frank.
“At the crest of the cliff above us, most likely,” replied John Block,
going a few steps outside.
Susan and Dolly, who were always greatly affected by thunderstorms, as
many people of nervous temperament are, had followed Jenny outside the
cave.
“Well?” Dolly enquired.
“There is no danger, Dolly, dear,” Frank answered. “Go back and close
your eyes and ears.”
But Jenny was just saying to her husband, who had come up to her:
“What a smell of smoke, Fritz!”
“That’s not surprising,” said the boatswain. “There is the fire—over
there.”
“Where?” Captain Gould asked sharply.
“On that heap of sea-weed at the foot of the cliff.”
The lightning had set fire to the heap of dry weed. In a few minutes the
flames had spread to the mass of sea-weeds collected at the base of the
cliff. It burned up like straw, crackling in the breeze, eddying about
like will-of-the-wisps, and spreading an acrid smoke over the whole
beach.
Fortunately, the entrance to the cave was clear, and the fire could not
reach it.
“That’s our reserve burning!” John Block exclaimed.
“Can’t we save any of it?” said Fritz.
“I fear not!” Captain Gould replied.
The flames spread so rapidly that it was impossible to remove to safety
the heaps which furnished the only fuel the shipwrecked people had.
True, the quantity deposited by the sea was inexhaustible. The stuff
would continue to be thrown up, but it would take a long time for such a
quantity to accumulate. The incoming tide deposited a few armfuls twice
in every twenty-four hours. What had lain on the beach was the harvest
of many years. And who could say that, in the few weeks remaining before
the rainy season, the tide would have thrown up enough for the winter’s
need?
In less than a quarter of an hour the line of fire had ringed the whole
circle of the shore, and except for a few heaps along the promontory
there was nothing left.
This fresh hammer-blow of evil fortune aggravated the situation, already
so disturbing.
“Upon my word, it’s no go!”
And coming from the lips of the boatswain, who was always so confident,
the words had exceptional significance.
But they would not make the walls of the prison fall down, to allow the
prisoners to escape!
Next morning the weather, though no longer thundery, was still
unsettled, and the north wind continued to sweep the plateau fiercely.
Their first business was to see whether the sea-weeds piled up along the
bastion had been spared by the fire. They had been partially. The men
brought back in their arms enough to last for a week, exclusive of what
the tides would bring up every day.
While the wind continued to blow from the north these floating masses
would, of course, be carried to sea.
But as soon as it veered round to the south again, the harvest could be
gathered more abundantly.
Nevertheless, Captain Gould pointed out that some precautions would have
to be taken for the future.
“Quite right, captain,” John Block answered; “it would be a good plan to
put what is left of the sea-weed under cover, in case we have to winter
here.”
“Why not store it in the second cave that we have just discovered?”
Fritz suggested.
That seemed to be expressly indicated, and that day, before noon, Fritz
resolved to go back into the cave, in order to examine its nature and
arrangements inside. Provided with a candle, he crept through the narrow
opening communicating between the two caves. Who could say if the second
one had not some means of egress beyond the mass of rock?
But just as he reached the far end of the long passage, Fritz felt a
fresher breath of air, and at the same moment his ear detected a
continual whistling sound.
“Wind!” he muttered. “That’s wind!”
He put his face near the wall, and his hand found several fissures in
it.
“Wind!” he said again. “It certainly is wind! It gets in here when it
blows from the north. So there is a passage, either on the side or at
the top of the cliff! But then, on this side, it would mean that there
is a communication with the northern flank of the cliff!”
Just at that moment the candle which Fritz was passing along the wall
went out suddenly, in a stronger draught blowing through one of the
fissures.
Fritz did not wait for anything more. He was convinced. If one got
through this wall one would have free access to the outside!
To crawl back to the cave where all were waiting for him, to tell them
of his discovery, to take them back again with him, and make sure that
he was right, was only the work of minutes.
In a few minutes more Fritz, followed by Captain Gould, John Block, and
James, went from the first cave into the second. They lighted their way
by candles which, on this occasion, they were careful not to put too
near the wall at the far end.
Fritz was not mistaken. Fresh air was blowing freely through the
passage.
Then the boatswain, passing the light along the level of the ground,
noticed that the passage was closed only by a heap of stones which had
no doubt fallen right down a kind of natural shaft.
“The door!” he exclaimed. “There’s the door! And no need of a key to
open it with! Ah, captain, you were in the right of it after all!”
“Get on to it! Get on to it!” was all Captain Gould’s reply.
It was easy to clear the passage of the obstructing stones. They passed
them from hand to hand, quite a lot of them, for the heap was five or
six feet above the ground level. As the work proceeded the current of
air became stronger. There most certainly was a sort of gorge carved out
inside the mass of the rock.
A quarter of an hour was enough to clear the passage entirely.
Fritz was the first through, and, followed by the others, he went ten or
twelve steps up a very steep slope, dimly lighted.
There was no vertical shaft. A gorge, five or six feet wide and open to
the sky, wound between two walls which rose to an immense height, and a
strip of blue sky formed its ceiling. It was down this gorge the wind
rushed, to creep through the fissures in the wall at the end of the
passage.
And so the cliff was rent right through! But where did the rift open
out?
They could not tell until they had reached the far end of it, supposing
they found it possible to do so.
But for all that they stood like prisoners before whom the gaol doors
have just opened!
It was barely eight o’clock, and there was plenty of time. They did not
even discuss the question of sending Fritz or the boatswain on in
advance to explore. Everyone wanted to go up the passage at once,
without losing a minute.
“But we must take some provisions,” Jenny said. “Who can tell whether we
shall not be away longer than we think?”
“Besides,” Fritz added, “have we any idea where we are going?”
“Outside,” the boatswain replied.
The simple word, so exactly expressing the general sentiment, answered
everything.
But Captain Gould insisted that they should have breakfast first, also
that they should take provisions for several days with them, in case
they should be delayed.
Breakfast was hurried through. After four months passed in this bay,
they were naturally in a hurry to find out whether their situation had
improved, perhaps even changed entirely.
Besides, there would still be time to come back, if the upper plateau
proved to be as barren as the shore, if it were unsuitable for a
settlement, if from the extreme summit no other land were to be seen in
the proximity. If the castaways from the _Flag_ found they had landed on
an island or islet, they would return to the cave and make their
arrangements to meet the winter there.
Directly the meal was finished the men took the bundles of provisions.
The first cave was left, and, with the albatross walking beside Jenny,
all went through the mouth of the passage.
When they came to the mouth of the gorge, Fritz and Frank went through
first. After them came Jenny, Dolly, and Susan, holding little Bob’s
hand.
Captain Gould and James came next, and John Block closed the rear.
At first the gorge was so narrow that they had to walk in single file.
It was really nothing but a cleft in the solid rock, running in a
northerly direction between two vertical walls which rose to a height of
eight or nine hundred feet.
After a hundred yards or so in a straight line, the ground began to
slope upwards rather steeply. The way must be a long one, for if it did
debouch upon the plateau it would have had to make up the five hundred
feet or so from the level of the beach to the upper part of the cliff.
Moreover, the journey was soon lengthened by the twists and turns of the
path. It was like the abrupt and capricious twisting of a labyrinth
inside the mass of rock. But judging from the light that spread from
above, Harry Gould believed that the general direction of the gorge was
from south to north. The lateral walls gradually drew further apart,
rendering the march much easier.
About ten o’clock they were obliged to call a halt to allow everyone to
recover breath. They stopped in a sort of semi-circular cavity, above
which a much larger slice of the sky was visible.
Captain Gould estimated that this spot was about two hundred feet above
the level of the sea.
“At this rate,” he remarked, “it will take us five or six hours to reach
the top.”
“Well,” Fritz replied, “it will still be broad daylight when we get
there, and if need be we shall have time to get down again before
night.”
“Quite true, Fritz,” the captain replied, “but how can we be sure that
the gorge is not lengthened by an even greater number of turnings?”
“Or that it does not come out upon the cliff?” Frank added.
“Whether it’s at the top or the side of the cliff, let us take things as
they come,” the boatswain put in. “Above, if it is above, below, if it
is below! After all, this don’t matter much!”
After a rest of half an hour, the march was resumed. The gorge, which
wound about ever more and more, and now measured ten to twelve feet
across, was carpeted with a sandy soil, scattered with pebbles, and
without a sign of vegetation. It seemed as though the summit must be an
arid waste, for otherwise some seed or germ would have been carried down
by the rain and would have sprouted. But there was nothing here—not even
a patch of lichen or moss.
About two o’clock in the afternoon another halt was called for rest and
refreshment. They all sat down in a kind of clearing where the walls
widened out like a bell, and over which the sun was passing on its
downward way to the west. The height now attained was estimated at seven
or eight hundred feet, which justified the hope of reaching the upper
plateau.
At three o’clock the journey was resumed. The difficulties became
momentarily greater. The slope was very steep, the ground strown with
landslips which made climbing hard, and there were large stones which
slipped and bounded down. The gorge, which had widened out considerably,
now formed a ravine, with sides still rising two or three hundred feet
in height. They had to help one another, and pull each other up by the
arms. Everything pointed to the possibility of reaching the plateau now.
And the albatross spread out its wings and rose with a spring, as if
inviting them to follow. Oh! if only they could have followed in its
flight!
At last, after incredible efforts, a little before five o’clock, they
all stood on the top of the cliff.
To south, to east, to west, nothing at all was to be seen—nothing but
the vast expanse of ocean!
Northwards, the plateau extended over an area which could not be
estimated, for its boundary crest could not be seen. Did it present a
perpendicular wall on that side, fronting the sea? Would they have to go
to the far end of it, to see the horizon of the sea in that direction?
Altogether, it was a disappointing sight for people who had hoped to set
foot upon some fertile, verdant, wooded region. The same arid desolation
reigned here as at Turtle Bay, which was perhaps less depressing, if not
less sterile, since mosses did gem it here and there, and there were
plenty of sea-weeds on its sandy shore.
And when they turned towards the east and the west, they looked in vain
for the outlines of a continent or island. Everything went to show that
this was a lonely islet in the middle of these wastes of water.
Not a word was uttered by anyone before this dashing of their last
hopes. These ghastly solitudes offered no resources. There was nothing
to do but descend the ravine, get back to the shore, go into the cave
again, settle down there for the long winter months, and wait for rescue
from outside!
It was now five o’clock, and there was no time to be lost before the
darkness of evening fell. In the gathering shades the walking would not
be easy.
Yet, since the northern part of the plateau had still to be explored, it
seemed best to make the exploration now. Might it not even be well to
camp for the night among the rocks scattered all over the surface? But
perhaps that would not be prudent. If the weather changed, where could
shelter be found? Prudence required that they should go back without
delay.
Then Fritz made a suggestion.
“Jenny, dear, let James and Frank take you back to the cave with Dolly
and Mrs. Wolston and the little chap. You can’t spend the night on the
cliff. Captain Gould, John Block, and I will stay here, and directly it
is light to-morrow we will finish our exploration.”
Jenny did not answer, and Susan and Dolly seemed to be consulting her
with their eyes.
“What Fritz suggests is wise,” Frank put in; “and besides, what good can
we hope to do by staying here?”
Jenny continued to keep silence, with her eyes fixed upon the vast ocean
which spread over three-quarters of the horizon, looking perhaps for the
sight of a sail, telling herself that a light might appear in the far
offing.
The sun was sinking rapidly already, among clouds driven from the north,
and it would mean at least two hours’ march through dense darkness to
reach Turtle Bay.
Fritz began again:
“Jenny, I beg you, go! No doubt to-morrow will be enough for us. We
shall be back in the evening.”
Jenny cast a last look all round her. All had risen, ready to make a
start. The faithful albatross was fluttering from rock to rock, while
the other birds, sea-mews, gulls and divers, flew back to their holes in
the cliff, uttering parting screams.
The young woman realised that she must do as her husband advised, and
regretfully she said:
“Let us go.”
Suddenly the boatswain sprang to his feet, and making an ear-trumpet of
his hand, listened intently.
A report, muffled by the distance, was audible from the north.
“A gun!” exclaimed John Block.