IN THE CAVE.
There had been so little sleep among us all that night that as soon as
the dawn came and brought with it assurance that the wild creatures would
leave us in peace, we disposed ourselves to rest, and I found one of the
dead panthers as good a pillow as I had ever known.
We woke toward noon much refreshed. The captain washed and dressed Tom’s
wounds and told us that by the next day at the furthest we must leave the
fort and voyage along the coast in search of a settlement.
“Why not stay here until my brother is quite recovered?” I asked. “If we
bar the windows so that nothing can enter, we shall be very comfortable.
Besides, there is the cave which we ought to explore.”
“No good can come of our staying here, and much harm may come of it,” he
replied.
“May I ask what harm, sir?” I asked.
“I mistrust John March and I mistrust the crew. They would gladly have
murdered us, and they may yet turn back and make sure that we do not
escape to tell tales of them. It is my duty to see you young gentlemen
safely to Charleston, and when once that is done I care little what
happens to me.”
“Suppose the pirates should come,” said Tom. “Could we not hold the fort
against them?”
“We have but a dozen charges of ammunition for each gun and the villains
know it. They would surely capture us at last, and would put us to the
torture in return for having resisted them. If they find us here we are
lost, and I am therefore anxious to make good our escape as soon as
possible.”
“Then let us start at once,” cried Tom. “If I cannot row at least I can
steer, and in a few days the stiffness will have gone from my arm.”
“Let us start then to-night, so that if by chance the wretches should
have returned and should be lying off the coast they could not see us,”
answered the captain. “We will carry a cargo of oranges with us, for they
are both food and drink, and it will take us at least a week before we
can gain the nearest settlement.”
Tom and I thought that the matter being thus decided we should explore
the cave without any more delay; so we took the lantern and set about it.
But first we resolved to ascend the hill in which was the entrance to the
cave. We had climbed but a short distance when we were able to see the
sea, and there, to our great dismay, we saw a vessel lying but a short
distance from the land.
We made out at once that she was not the Swansea, for she was a
schooner, and we began to hope that she might be an honest vessel, that
had run short of water; that her captain meant to supply himself from our
river, and that he would take us off with him.
We were going to carry the good news to Captain Fearing when I remembered
that beyond doubt the fort had been built by pirates and that no honest
vessel knew anything about the river. So all the more we hurried to warn
the captain. Providence willed, however, that we should be too late,
for we had scarcely entered the back door of the fort when a large boat
carrying fifteen men whom we knew at a glance to be pirates, swept up the
river and came to the landing-place, where all the men hastily tumbled
out.
Captain Fearing had seen the boat, and had boldly gone down to meet it,
before we could speak to him. He was unarmed, and I could see that the
pirates were greatly surprised to find him there, and that they were not
of the crew of the Swansea. They gathered around him while he spoke to
them, and then some of them went to see our boat, that was lying partly
behind an overhanging tree, so that they had not at first seen it. I
greatly admired the bravery of the captain, who trusted himself among
those bloody men; I was hoping I know not what, for I well knew that
between an honest man and pirates there could be no peace, when I saw one
of the wretches put a pistol to the captain’s head and blow out the poor
man’s brains.
There could not be the least doubt that the captain was dead, and
terribly as we were shocked we knew that if we were not to share his fate
we must escape before the pirates caught sight of us. The very fact that
they did not come to the fort to search for us the instant they had shot
the captain was proof that he had not told them of us.
“The cave is our only chance, Tom,” I whispered. “Catch up the
ammunition and the guns and I will take all the provisions I can carry,
and we will hide in the cave. It is lucky we have the lantern all ready.”
While I was speaking I gathered up as many biscuit as I could stuff in
the breast of my shirt, and seized what was left of the two hams—which
was a whole one and a fragment of another—and ran towards the cave,
meaning to leave the provisions, and if possible return for more. But
I had hardly started back when I met Tom running at full speed, and I
learned from him that the pirates were approaching the fort, and that he
had just time to escape unseen.
As there was really no chance of our remaining concealed in the cave if
the pirates should search it, Tom suggested that we should put all our
things in the boat and paddle out into the lake. Although I had been
eager to make such a strange underground voyage only an hour before, the
death of the captain had somehow changed my thoughts, and I did not
hanker after the darkness of the cave. So I said to Tom that unless the
pirates knew of the cave they would not be likely to come to it, and that
at any rate they would not search for us, because they did not know of
our existence.
“Well,” said Tom, not very well pleased, “I suppose we can stop half an
hour or so here at the mouth of the cave, for it will take them that time
to break into the fort.”
“What do you mean?” cried I.
“Why, I shut the big door and barred it before I left,” answered Tom.
“That will delay them and give us time.”
“And tell them, too, that the captain had some one with him, for they
well know that he could not have left the fort and barred the door from
the inside himself. How could you be so stupid? Now after they have
broken in they will find the back door open and know the way we have
taken. They will be here in a few moments.”
“We have plenty of time,” said Tom, without trying to defend himself.
Indeed he never did, for the dear, honest, brave lad knew that he was a
little slow and dull, and thought it quite natural that what he had done
should be wrong. “The pirates,” he continued, “will make sure that there
is somebody in the fort ready to defend it, and the very silence will
make them cautious. As I said, it will be a good half-hour before they
get here, and if we have the skiff all ready we can take to it before
they can see us. Besides, they may have no light with them.”
“The boat is sure to have a lantern,” I replied. “However, Tom, you did
what you thought was best, and perhaps it was. Come, let’s get the skiff
ready.”
We baled all the water out of the skiff and stowed our provisions and
ammunition in it; and then, gun in hand, we went back to sit at the mouth
of the cave and see the sunlight as long as possible. We knew the way
between the mouth of the cave and the place where the skiff lay so well
that we could find it without a light, so we left the lantern in the
skiff.
We talked in whispers as we sat waiting for the pirates, and I think
neither of us had very much hope that when once we should be driven into
the cave we should ever see the dear light of day again.
At last we heard a shout from the fort and knew that the pirates had
broken in. We instantly started for the skiff, but the pirates must have
known all about the cave, for they were close after us with a lantern
that gave light enough to light up the whole cave, and we had barely time
to leap into the skiff, blow out our own lantern and shove off when they
were upon us, yelling and calling on us with awful oaths to come back.
I sat in the stern of the skiff and paddled hard, but to our great fright
we found that what we had supposed to be a lake was really a small pool
of water. An underground stream entered the cave a few yards from the
place where we found the boat, and after making a little pool perhaps
fifty feet wide and seventy-five long, the stream left it through an
archway some four feet high. This archway was situated at the further end
of the cave.
It was impossible to find any place where we would be out of sight of
the pirates. As I paddled around the pool hoping to find a projecting
rock that would give us a shelter the pirates could see us plainly. They
ordered us to come back, and as we paid no attention to them they began
firing at us. By great good fortune none of them had guns, but as there
were nine of them in the cave and nearly all of them discharging their
pistols at us, it was not at all pleasant. Several times the balls hit
the boat, and once one came so near my ear that I thought it had struck
me.
“This won’t do,” exclaimed Tom. “Shove her under that arch as quick as
you can, Jack.”
You may ask why I had not already done this, as I have said that the arch
was high enough to admit the skiff. The reason was that the water flowed
under it with a current so strong that I feared that once in it the skiff
would be swept along in spite of the paddle. But our affairs were now
desperate, and certain death awaited us unless we could find a shelter.
We were only two boats’ lengths from the arch when Tom spoke. I had made
up my mind that the arch was our only chance, and since Tom was willing
to risk it, I turned the skiff into the current and we glided under the
arch out of sight and range of our enemies.
The moment we found ourselves in the current I was more frightened by
far than when the pirates were firing at us. The force of the water
was terrible, and we were whirled along in deep darkness without the
possibility of stopping our progress. The passage in which we were was
apparently made with as much regularity as if it was the work of man. I
could touch either side with my paddle, but the sides seemed perfectly
smooth and slippery, and there was nothing to which I could cling. As for
the roof of the passage, it was for the most part so high that I could
not reach it, though once the paddle, which I was holding over my head,
struck violently against the rock.
We had traveled in this way for several minutes, although it seemed
very much longer, and neither of us had spoken, when I accidentally
caught hold of an iron ring on the left side of the passage or gallery,
and although I was nearly dragged out of the boat I managed to hold on
and bring the boat to a standstill. We had no rope with us, or I would
have made the boat fast, but as it was I could hold her for a long time
without getting exhausted. I called to Tom to light the lantern. When he
had done this and we could see each other the place seemed less dreadful.
The ring had of course been fastened in the rock by some one, though for
what reason I could not imagine. But its finding gave me new courage, for
it showed that we were not the first ones who had explored the cave.
“What are we to do now?” I said to Tom.
“Go on, when you get tired of holding the skiff,” he replied.
“Can you see what I am holding on by?”
“No,” he answered. “A bit of rock, I suppose.”
“Nothing of the kind,” I exclaimed. “It is an iron ring.”
“And what if it is?” asked Tom.
“Why, just this; somebody has been here before us, and put this ring in
its place. What do you suppose that was done for?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Tom, without showing much interest in the
ring.
“I think,” I continued, “that this is only one of a number of rings, and
that a rope used to run through them the whole length of this channel,
so that when a boat wanted to return against the current, the man in the
boat could lay hold of the rope and pull himself back.”
“That may be so,” said Tom, “but the rope isn’t there now, so it’s of no
use to us. You can’t hold on to that ring forever, and if you could we
should starve to death, after a while. You’ll have to let go presently,
and then down we float again.”
“But, Tom, can’t you see that if people used to go up and down this
passage it must lead somewhere, and we are not going to be carried down
any dangerous cataract or anything of that sort?”
“I suppose it does lead somewhere; but since we can never get back again,
I don’t think it makes much difference whether it leads over a cataract
or into some dark hole where we will have to stay and starve. But let her
go, Jack. We might as well know what is going to happen, for it is no
good stopping here.”
I did not much like the idea of committing ourselves to the current
again. There seemed no help for it, however; so after saying my prayers I
let go the ring and the skiff shot away once more.
The lantern, which was now lighted, showed us that every few yards there
was a ring in the wall, and to one of these rings was hanging a bit of
rope. I caught hold of it, but it was very rotten. However, I knew now
that I was right about the rings. I felt sure that it was perfectly safe
to go down the channel, though I saw that it would be impossible to
return.
I know very well that a person badly frightened and floating with a
strong current in the dark can know but little of the distance over which
he passes. But I was quite sure that we were moving fully eight miles
an hour, and we were certainly in that curious underground river for at
least ten minutes. I also feel safe in saying that we must have gone a
good mile when I saw a glimmer of light ahead. Then we came suddenly into
another large pool where the water was quiet and which was dimly lighted
by an opening in the roof of the cave that seemed fifty feet above us and
through which we could catch a glimpse of a little scrap of blue sky.