having passed along there; and with his heart sinking he slowly climbed
down part of the way, then reached a mossy stone which gave way beneath
his feet and fell, while he followed, slipping down twenty feet, rolling
another twenty; dropping sometimes into a thorny tangle of brambles, and
dragging himself out, tattered, bleeding, and terribly out of temper, to
walk slowly back to the spot from whence he and Billy Widgeon had
started.
"How thirsty I am!" he said to himself; and then he listened.
All was horribly silent, and he called in a startled way, to be answered
by a faint "Ahoy!"
"This way, Billy!"
There was again silence as Mark threw himself wearily on a mass of
ferns; but after a time the rustling of boughs and breaking of twigs
could be heard, and at last from apparently a long way off came Billy's
voice again:
"Mr Mark, ahoy!"
"Ahoy! This way!"
Another pause, with the rustling of leaves and twigs continued, and
Billy's voice again:
"Ahoy, my lad! Where are you?"
"Here!"
There was a low muttering as if Billy were talking to himself, and then
another shout.
"Here!" cried Mark again wearily.
"Oh, there you are--are you?" cried the little sailor, struggling at
last to his side. "I thought I was never going to get back. More you
tries to find your way, more you loses it. I never see such a mess in
my life! Why don't they keep a gardener?"
Wretched as he was, hot, weary, and smarting and stinging from scratches
and pricks, Mark could not help laughing at the little sailor's
irritable manner.
"Ah, you may laugh, my lad, a-lying all so comfortable there! but if
you'd had such a slip as I did off a rock, and came down sitting on a
thorn as big as a marlin'-spike, you wouldn't show your white teeth like
that!"
"But I did, Billy," cried Mark, going off into a wild roar of laughter;
"and I'm horribly pricked and torn. But never mind that. Did you find
the way back to them?"
"Find your way back to 'em?--no. I never see such a muddle as the place
is in. Every bit's like every other bit; and when you mark down one
tree, meaning to come back to it, and do come back to it, why it's
another tree just like the one you thought it was. I say, Mr Mark,
sir, this place aren't 'chanted--is it?"
"Enchanted!--no. Why?"
"I d'know, only it's very queer like and puzzling. I can't make it out
a bit."
"Why, how do you mean?"
"Mean as you can't seem to box the compass like, and don't know which
way to steer, sir. I feels as if I should give it up."
"Give it up! What nonsense! Let's rest a few minutes and start again."
"Oh, I don't mind resting, sir; but I don't want to have to sleep out
here. Why, we've got nothing to eat, and no lights, and--no, I sha'n't
sit down, Mr Mark, sir. I don't want to disobey orders, but seems to
me as we'd better get back to what you called Gutta-percha Road."
"Now, look here, Billy, how can you be so stupid?" cried Mark pettishly.
"You know I want to get back; but which way are we to go?"
"Tell you what, sir, let's cooey," cried Billy, giving his leg a slap.
"That's the proper thing to do when you're out in the woods."
"Well, cooey, then," said Mark. "Go on."
"No, sir; you'd better do it," said Billy modestly. "I aren't practysed
it much."
"Never mind; go on."
"I'd a deal rather you would, Mr Mark, sir."
"But I can't. I never did such a thing in my life."
"Well, if it comes to that, sir, more didn't I."
"And you said you hadn't practised much."
"Well, sir, I haven't," said Billy coolly.
"Billy, you're a sham," said Mark angrily.
"All right, sir! I don't mind."
"You get one into a muddle like this, and then are no use at all."
"No, sir. That's about it," said Billy coolly, and all the time as
serious as a judge. "I wish we'd got Jack here!"
"What's the good of him?--to send up the trees after cocoa-nuts?"
"Now, now, now, Mr Mark, sir, don't be hard on a fellow! I did think
as he'd send some down; and I believe now as he wouldn't because I give
him a cuff o' the head that morning for sucking the end o' my hankychy."
"Here, come along, and let's keep together."
"All right, sir!"
"Let's get up to the top of that rock first. I think that's where we
came down."
"Nay, nay, Mr Mark, sir. I'm sure as that wasn't the way. It was up
that one."
"I'm certain it was not, Billy. It was this. Come along."
"All right, Mr Mark, sir! If you says that's right, it's quite enough
for me. I'll go anywheres you likes to lead; and I can't say fairer
than that--can I?"
"No, Billy," said Mark; "so come along."
He led the way, and they climbed by the help of the bushes and aerial
roots of the trees right to the top of the rugged bank of rock he had
marked down in his mind's eye as being the way; and as soon as they were
there they stopped and listened.
"Perhaps they're looking for us," he said.
"Shouldn't wonder, Mr Mark, sir."
But though they listened there was no shout, no distant sound to suggest
that a search was being made.
"You talk about Jack," said Mark; "I wish we had got poor old Bruff
here! He would find the way home."
"But you see, Mr Mark, sir, it aren't no use to wish. Lawk a me! sir,
the number o' things I've wished for in my life--'bacco, knives, a
silver watch, silk hankychies, lots o' things, but I never got 'em."
"Never mind them now. Let's shout."
"With a will, then, sir, and put your back into it. One, two, three,
and ahoy!"
The peculiar duet rang out over the trees--a loud and piercing cry--and
as it died away, Billy caught at Mark's arm, and gripped it tightly; his
eyes staring wildly, with the pupils dilating, as from some little
distance off on one side there came a mocking "Ha--ha--ha!" and from the
other direction a peculiar hoarse barking croak, which can best be
expressed by the word "Wauck!"
"Let's get away from here, Mr Mark, sir," whispered Billy. "I don't
like this."
"Get away?"
"Yes, sir; they're a-making fun of us."
"Who are?"
"Oh, I don't know who they are, sir, but it's something. Let's get
away, sir, fast as we can."
"Which way?"
"I d'know, sir, anyways as aren't near them."
"Why, it was a couple of birds of some kind."
"What! them snorky bill birds?" said Billy, alluding to the hornbills.
"Yes, I expect it was one of them, or a kingfisher."
"Birds!" said Billy in tones of disgust. "I never heerd no bird laugh
at you when you was in trouble. I'm thinking as there's things in this
here place as it wouldn't be nice to meet."
"I daresay there are, Billy; but these were birds."
"Birds! Hark at him! Would a bird shout to you to walk?"
"It didn't. It was a sort of croak."
"If we stops here I shall feel as if I'm going to croak, Mr Mark, sir.
Why, them things made me feel cold all down my back."
"Nonsense! Come, shout again!"
Billy shook his head.
"Shout, I tell you. We don't want to stop here all night."
"No, Mr Mark, sir; don't, please don't. It's like showing 'em exactly
where we are."
"Well, that's what we want to do."
"No, sir, I don't mean them. I mean _them_."
"What! the birds?"
"Them warn't birds, Mr Mark, sir," said Billy in a solemn whisper.
"Don't you believe it."
"What were they, then?"
"Things as lives in woods, and never shows theirselves till people lies
down and dies, and then they eats 'em."
"What do you mean? Vultures?"
"No, no; not them. I know what a wultur is. These is different things
to them. Let's get away, sir, do."
"What do you mean, then?" persisted Mark. "Do you think there are
goblins in the wood?"
"Something o' that sort, sir, but don't speak out loud. They might
hear, and not like it."
"But goblins out here wouldn't understand English," said Mark laughing;
but all the same it was rather a forced laugh, for the little sailor's
evident dread was infectious.
"I wouldn't laugh if I was you, Mr Mark, sir. Come along."
"Shout," cried Mark, ashamed of the shadow of cowardice which had begun
to envelop him, and he gave forth a loud "Ahoy!"
Ha--ha--ha!
Wauck!
The same two responses, but decidedly closer; and as Billy gripped the
lad's arm again they heard from out of the darkest part of the jungle
close by a peculiar chuckling, as if some one were thoroughly enjoying
their predicament.
"Did yer hear that?" whispered Billy, whose sun-tanned visage was now
quite pallid and mottled with muddy grey.
"Yes, I heard it, of course," said Mark, fighting hard with his growing
alarm, "Ahoy!"
Ha--ha--ha!
Wauck!
And then the same peculiar low chuckle.
"Mr Mark, sir, this is hard on a man," whispered Billy. "I want to run
away, sir, but--"
"Ugh! You coward!"
"No, sir, I aren't a coward. If I was I should run, but I can't run and
leave you alone, and that's why it's so hard."
"I tell you it's the birds, Billy. Let's shout together."
"That aren't no birds, sir. It's things as it's best not to talk about.
Now, look ye here, Mr Mark, sir: I'll run away with you, and fight for
you, or do anything you like, sir, or I stands by you till I drops, so
don't say I'm a coward."
"You are, to be afraid of birds. Ahoy!"
Ha--ha--ha!
Wauck!
Chuckle--chuckle--chuckle! A regular gurgle in a hoarse throat.
"I won't stand it. You come on," cried Billy, seizing Mark by the hand.
"This way."
Mark did not resist, and the little sailor hurried him along as fast as
the nature of the ground would allow; and with the full intention of
going right towards where they had left the others, at the end of the
bitumen river, he went right in the opposite direction, and farther and
farther into the wildest recesses of the jungle.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
HOW MARK AND BILLY FOUND A STRANGE BED.
For a good half-hour they toiled on through cane-woven thickets, in and
out of wildernesses of huge tree-trunks, many of which had great flat
buttresses all round, which were difficult to climb over or round, while
other trees seemed to be growing with their roots all above ground,
green, snaky, twisted and involved roots, that necessitated sheer
climbing before they could get by. Now and then they came to an opening
where the trees had been burned down by volcanic fires, and here all was
light and beauty in the evening sunshine. Again rocky crevices ran
through the forest, giving them terribly hard work to get over, perhaps
to come at once upon some boiling spring, whose water, where it trickled
away and cooled, was of a filthy bitter taste that was most
objectionable. Then again there were blistering pools of mud ever
rising in a high ebullition, and bursting with strange sounds.
But all these were similar to those they had before encountered, and the
hiss of steam, when they stepped upon some soft spot, ceased to alarm
them with dread of serpents, but merely made them avoid such spots in
favour of firmer ground.
Such signs of the volcanic nature of the isle were constant, and no
matter which way they dragged their weary steps it was to find tokens of
the active or quiescent workings of the subterranean fires.
At last, just as they were ready to drop, and the sun was rapidly
disappearing, as the ruddy sky in the west plainly showed, they
staggered out of a more than usually painful part of the jungle into a
rugged stony opening, with the rock rising nearly sheer for hundreds of
feet, and to the intense delight of both, the ruddy light of the sky was
reflected from a rock pool, which glowed as if it were brimming with
molten orange gold.
"Water!" gasped Billy. "Come on."
"Be careful!" panted Mark; "it may be bitter or hot."
As he spoke the little sailor threw himself down, and plunged his fist
within, scooped out a little, tasted it, and then uttered a shout of
joy.
"Drink, my lad," he said hoarsely, and Mark followed his example,
placing his lips to the surface as he lay flat down and took in long
refreshing draughts of cool sweet water that seemed the most delicious
thing he had ever tasted.
"Talk about grog!" cried Billy, as he raised his face to take breath,
and then he drank again; "I never had grog as come up to this," he
continued. "Ah!"
Satisfied at length, they sat there at the edge of the pool looking up
at the rocky scarp before them, part of which glowed in the sunlight
reflected from the sky, while the rest down by where they sat was bathed
in purply shadows which were rising fast.
"Seems to me, my lad, as we must look out for a night's lodging. What
says you?"
"Yes, Billy, we must get some shelter for the night. But let's try one
more shout."
The little sailor protested, but Mark raised his voice as loudly as he
could in a stentorian "Ahoy!" and as if the occupants of the forest had
kept close upon their heels there came the same sneering laugh, and the
hoarse croaking cry from among the trees.
"There! see what you've done!" groaned Billy. "Who's to go to sleep
anywhere near here if they're arter us?"
"Nonsense!" cried Mark. "They'll go to roost directly, and we sha'n't
hear them again."
"Roost! Nay, lad, that sort o' thing never roosts. Let's get on."
"Get on! why, it will be dark directly, and we shall be falling down
some precipice, or getting into one of those horrible bogs. We must get
some shelter where we can."
There seemed to be no difficulty about that, for a few feet up the face
of the rock, and where it could easily be reached, there was a
depression which looked as if two huge blocks of stone had fallen
together, one leaning against the other, and as, after a great deal of
persuasion, Billy Widgeon climbed up to it with his companion, they
found this really to be the case, save that instead of its being two
blocks of stone it was two beds of strata lying together, in such a
position that they formed a cavern some ten-feet high and as many wide,
and with a peculiarly ribbed and cracked floor.
It was rapidly growing too dark to see of what this floor was composed,
the gloom being quite deep as soon as they were inside. Neither could
they explore the interior, though it seemed to form a passage going in
for some distance; but a careful searching of the floor and the
neighbourhood of the entrance failed to show them the slightest trace of
animal occupation.
"But it's very risky work, Mr Mark, sir, coming and settling down in a
rat's hole of a place like this."
"My dear Billy, if you can show me a better place, one where we shall be
in shelter from the rain and the heavy dew, I shall be glad to go to it.
I don't like sleeping on stone floors."
"Well, for the matter o' that, I daresay I can get enough o' them big
leaves, nice dry uns, to make you a bed, Mr Mark, sir, and I will. But
hadn't we better try somewheres else?"
"There will not be time, man," cried Mark angrily.
"All right, Mr Mark, sir! but don't you blame me if anything happens."
"No. Come along, and let's be thankful for finding such a shelter. We
may as well get as many leaves as we can."
They found time to collect three loads of large dry palm leaves, and as
they carried the last armful into the rocky hole, the night was quite
closed in, and the crescent moon shone over the trees and silvered their
tops faintly, while a soft wind whispered among them and reached the
nostrils of the occupants of the cave, bearing with it the peculiar salt
strange odour of the sea.
"Say," said Billy, as they sat upon their heaps of palm leaves gazing
out of the mouth of their resting-place, "think of our being 'bliged to
stop in a hole like this when you can smell the sea."
"Not a bad place," said Mark; "and I wouldn't mind if I could feel sure
that my father and mother were not in trouble about me."
"My father and mother wouldn't trouble about me," said Billy, "even if
they know'd. But do you really think it was birds as made those noises,
Mr Mark, sir?"
"I feel sure it was."
"I wish we was birds just now. How we could fly right over the wood and
get back to the camp! Wonder what's for supper?"
"Birds," said Mark, stretching himself in a comfortable position upon
the palm leaves, and gazing at the great stars in the purple sky.
"Ah, yes," said Billy, "birds! and they'll be roasting at the fire now,
and spittering and sputtering, and smelling as nice as roast birds can
smell. I wish we was in camp."
He sighed and stretched himself on the leaves, grunting a little as he
felt the hard rock through.
"Aren't you very hungry, Mr Mark, sir?"
"No; I feel too fidgety about my father looking for us to want any
food."
"Ah, it's a bad thing to--Yah!--hah--hah--hah!"
Billy finished his sentence with a tremendous yawn, and then rustled the
leaves as he tucked some more of them beneath him.
"Roast birds," he muttered; "and then there'll be some o' them big
oyster things all cooked up in their shells!"
Mark did not answer, for though in his mind's eye he saw the camp fire,
he did not see the cooking, but the cooks, and thought of how anxious
his mother would be.
"I should have said they was mussels," said Billy, in a low voice.
"What, Billy?"
"Them shell-fish, sir, more like oysterses than--I mean more like muss--
muzzles--oysters--muzzles--muzzles!"
Mark raised himself upon his arm and looked at his companion, who was
dimly-seen in the starlight.
"Why, Billy, what's the matter?" he said. "Sleeping uneasy?"
"Easy it is, sir. Eh? Sleep. No, Mr Mark, sir. What say?--sleep,
sir. No; wide-awake as you are, sir."
"That's right," said Mark, gazing out once more at the softly glowing
stars. The crescent moon had gone down in a bed of clouds, and all
around the darkness seemed to grow deeper and softer, till it was as if
it could be touched, and everything was wonderfully still, save when
there came from the distance a sharp whistling that might have been from
a bird, but was more probably escaping steam.
Now and then Mark could see strange lights glowing, and then feel a
tremulous motion such as would be felt at home when a vehicle was
passing the house, and as if this might be thunder, it was generally
after he had noticed a flashing light playing over the trees, sometimes
bright enough to reveal their shapes, but as a rule so faint as to be
hardly seen.
He thought about his father going back wearied out with a long search.
Then he wondered whether he had gone back, and at last the idea struck
him as strange that the party had not fired a gun at intervals to
attract their attention.
He had just arrived at this point, and was considering whether a light
he saw was a luminous fungus, when a strange noise saluted his ear, a
sound that for the moment he supposed to have come from the forest.
Then it seemed to be in the cave, and he was about to spring up, when he
realised that the noise was made by Billy Widgeon, who was too tired to
let his nervous and superstitious dread trouble him any more, and was
now sleeping as heavily as if he were in his bunk on board the _Petrel_.
Mark felt a curious sensation of irritation against a man who could go
off to sleep so calmly at a time like this, but the man's words came to
mind about his father and mother, and at last Mark was fain to say to
himself, "If the poor fellow can sleep why shouldn't he?"
For his own part he had quite come to the determination that he would
get what rest he could as he lay awake watching, for he knew that,
anxious as he was, it would be impossible to sleep. Besides, he wanted
to listen for the possibility of a signal being made. A gun fired
would, he knew, be heard an enormous distance, and it would give him an
idea of the direction in which the camp lay.
All this while Billy Widgeon lay snoring loudly, but by degrees, as Mark
watched the stars that seemed to float over the jungle, the heavy
breathing became less heavy, and by slow degrees softer and softer till
it quite died away, and all was perfectly still to Mark Strong as he lay
watching there.
But it was only in imagination that he watched, for nature had played a
trick upon the lad, and in spite of his determination to keep awake, in
spite of his anxiety, had poured her drowsy medicine upon his eyes.
For Mark had fallen into as deep a sleep as his companion.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
HOW THE ROARING SPOT WAS FOUND.
Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!
Wauck! Wauck! Wauck!
There was a loud rustling of palm leaves, and Mark Strong and Billy
Widgeon sprang to their feet and stared at one another as the warm glow
that precedes sunrise penetrated the cave and lit up their faces.
"What was that?"
"I don't know. Did somebody call?"
"I--I thought I heered them things again," said Billy in a whisper.
"Why, Mr Mark, sir, you've been asleep!"
"I'm afraid I have. Have you?"
"Dunno, sir. Well, I suppose I have. I feel like it. But I didn't
mean to, sir."
"Neither did I mean to," said Mark. "I wonder I did go. How chilly it
is!"
"Yes, sir, like one feels in the early watches. Why, it's quite
to-morrow morning!"
"Or this morning, Billy."
"Yes, sir, that's what I mean. Now, then, what's the first thing, Mr
Mark, sir? What do you say to finding a coky-nut tree? I'll swarm up
and get the nuts."
"Let's start at once, and try to get to camp. That will be better than
cocoa-nuts. Now, then, the sun is rising on our right; then it seems to
me if we keep it there, upon our right, and walk as straight as we can,
we shall hit the shore somewhere near our camp."
"Then you won't look for the Gutty Perchy Road, sir?"
"No, no; they would not have stayed there. We will try and get through
the jungle--we must get through it, Billy, so come along."
"Shall I go first, sir?" said the little sailor.
"No, I'll go first. I wish we had lights to look a little further into
this hole. Why, Billy, the floor's lava!"
"Yes, sir, I thought it was."
"You thought it was what?" cried Mark, staring.
"What you said, sir."
"Never mind, come along," said Mark; and he went to the edge of the cave
and stood looking out like a pigeon in one of the holes of a dove-cot
preparing to take flight.
"See anything, sir?"
"Trees, rocks, sky; nothing more," said Mark; "but the sea must be
straight before us, and it cannot be many miles away."
He turned and began to climb down backwards, and reached the level at
the bottom of the steep scarp, when, looking up, he could not help
smiling at the great care Billy displayed in descending, for he lowered
his short legs over the edge as he held on and began feeling about in a
most absurdly comical manner for the nearest projection which he could
touch.
He was in this position, about fifteen feet above the spot where Mark
waited, when, with a noise that was almost deafening, the frightful roar
which had startled the whole party burst out from just inside the cave
where they had slept.
The sound was so awful in its intensity that Mark shuddered as he stood
there almost petrified, while at the first burst poor Billy Widgeon
loosed his hold and dropped down shrunken up together as if he were
trying to emulate the manner of a hedgehog, and as he fell, he just
touched the ground, sprang up, and began to run.
"Mr Mark, sir, run--run, my lad, run!"
To his credit, be it said, that he stopped short and waited for Mark to
come up, terrified as he was, and then sent him on first, while he
covered him from behind.
Neither spoke for some time, but, regardless of direction, ran where
they could, but oftener walked, or even crept, through the dense forest,
always with the sensation that the huge beast that had uttered that
frightful roar was crashing through the trees on their track.
By degrees though they recovered their confidence somewhat, gradually
realising that there was no sound behind them, and at last they paused
panting and exhausted to wipe the perspiration from their brows, and
listen.
"Hear it coming, Mr Mark, sir?"
"No," said Mark after a few moments, "I can hear nothing."
"Jim-a-ny!" panted Billy, "think of us a-going to sleep in his hole.
Oh, Mr Mark, sir, what an awful beast! I thought he'd ha' had me. I
was that scared I couldn't let go for a moment."
"Did you hurt yourself much?"
"Hurt myself! I should think I did. I must have half my bones broken.
But what a roar!"
"What was it like?"
"Like, sir! Oh, I can't tell you what it was like."
"What! didn't you see it?"
"Don't you talk so loud, my lad, or we shall have him arter us."
"No, I won't, Billy; but did you see it?"
"'Cause, if we gets it arter us, it's all over."
"Yes, yes, I know that; but I want to know what sort of a beast it was.
Did you see it?"
"Did you hear it roar, Mr Mark, sir?" said Billy, still fencing with
the question.
"Of course I did. What was it like?"
"Well, you see, I didn't, as I may say, exactly see it, Master Mark,
sir, so I wouldn't venture to say what it was like."
"But you saw something?"
"Well, I won't deceive you, Mr Mark, sir; I didn't see nothing."
"I wish you had, Billy. But what an escape! The thing must have been
asleep when we went there last night, and did not wake till we came
away. But we've found out its hole."
"Yes," said Billy, dolefully, as he rubbed one leg; "we've found out its
hole, Mr Mark, sir, only, as you may say where is it?"
"Why, we could find our way back there, surely?"
"I don't believe nobody could find their way. I can't, sir. You're
always going where you don't want, and turning up somewhere else. I
feel like the needle in the bottle of hay, sir, and give it up."