THE WONDERFUL LAND
He did not arouse her at once, but sat below her, looking at her sweet,
tired face, peaceful in the slumber that had been so long in coming,
wondering what her dreams could be. Far down the shore, near the tree
under which he had found himself and to whose shelter she had dragged
him,--something told him vaguely,--was the spar that had ridden the
waves with them the night before. Long, white and gleaming it lay in the
waning sunlight. The sight of it filled him with an enthusiasm he never
had known before. His heart swelled with homage to the strong, sturdy
piece of timber. It was like a living object to him now, a friend to
whom he felt like talking, to whom he could turn for proof positive of
an unparalleled experience on the deep.
His eyes grew sad and gloomy as he turned toward the setting king of
day. In his imagination, the _Tempest Queen,_ with all on board, went
down precisely at the point chosen by the sun for his disappearance.
Night coming! Where were they? Upon an unknown shore, Heaven alone
knowing how far from habitation, from all shelter save the tree-tops,
from all means of sustenance. Night coming! Behind them the mysterious
jungle, before them the devil-brewed ocean.
A chilly perspiration broke out over him; a fear even worse than that of
the night before attacked him. How far were they from human habitation?
What manner of people dwelt in this land? As these thoughts tumbled
about in his brain, suddenly came the implacable desire for water. It
seemed days since he had tasted it. Like a flash, nature began its
demands, and he was almost overcome by the prospect of night on the
rocks with no possible hope to find the food and water now so necessary.
Lady Tennys slept on, untouched by the calamities that beset him, her
breast rising full and regularly. As he looked upon her lovely face the
spirit of chivalry returned. She had thought of him in his
unconsciousness and she had been brave and true. Bound by a new
determination to find food and water for her and to provide other
shelter than the draughty crannies among the rocks, he painfully started
up the slope toward the edge of the forest. Soon he stood upon the
broad, smooth plateau, looking into the green, sunless depths.
Behind him lay the beach and the fringe of the jungle; to seaward rose
the rocky point full two hundred feet higher than the spot on which he
stood, panting for breath; to his right, descending gradually, ran the
lofty hill to a place, not more than a quarter of a mile away, where it
merged into the forest. The ridge on which he stood was not more than
one hundred feet wide, a flat, narrow, sloping table. Filled with
curiosity, he strode to the opposite side and found himself upon the
edge of a sharp decline, almost perpendicular in its fall to the valley
below, which was apparently lower than the beach from which he had come.
As far as the eye could reach inland there was a mass of bright green
trees, luxuriant and beautiful. Below him was water, a natural harbor of
tiny dimensions, running back from the sea which lay off to the far
right as he faced the head of this peculiar elevation. Plain to his eye
was the contour of this great rock. It resembled the letter L. Along the
sea line it stretched high and ugly for nearly a mile, a solid wall, he
imagined, some three hundred feet above the water, narrow at the top,
like a great backbone. The little cove below him was perhaps a mile
across. The opposite shore was low and verdure-clad. The rocky eminence
that formed the wall on two sides was the only high ground to be seen
for miles around.
Down the slope he sped, dusky shadows beginning to tell of the coming
night. His feet finally touched upon the grass-covered soil; he was off
the barren rock and at the edge of the dismal forest. Without a quiver
he hurried under the great leaves and among the trees. The ground sloped
gently downward to the now invisible harbor. He turned in that
direction. Monkeys chattered in the trees and strange birds hurtled
through the dense growth. His foot struck against a queer green object
and an instant later he gave a shout of joy. It was a cocoanut, green
and smooth.
Food! In an instant he realized that he had found something that could
appease the cravings of hunger for the time being, at least. He searched
eagerly, feverishly in the matted grass, and soon had a dozen great nuts
piled at the edge of the wood. Then he renewed his search for the water
that must keep life in their famished bodies.
The lapping of waves grew louder as he pushed his way through the trees,
and a moment later he narrowly escaped plunging into the waters of the
shimmering little bay. The coast was semicircular in shape, rising high
and black to his left, running low and green to his right. Not one
hundred feet to the left were the first signs of the rocky promontory,
small, jagged boulders standing like a picket line before the grout mass
beyond. Along the rocky side of the wall, sonic distance away, he saw an
overhanging shelf of dark gray stone, protruding over the natural floor
beneath. An inky darkness back of the projection impressed him with the
idea that a cave lay beyond.
At his feet trickled a little stream of clear, sparkling water, coming
from the crevasse above, the headquarters of a spring. He fell upon his
knees and plunged his hot face into the cool water, swallowing
great gulps.
When he arose to his feet everything looked brighter, fairer, happier.
The scene, gorgeous a few moments before, was now more than that to his
revived senses. A desire to shout jubilantly came over him. With an
exultation that he could scarcely control he dashed on up the
sand-strewn ledge toward the awning-like rock.
He found that a roomy cave ran back into the hill a dozen feet or more.
Its floor was covered with fine white sand, thrown up from the beach
during the wind storms, and it was a most perfect shelter,--this hole
fifty feet above the placid waters.
Darkness was coming, so he ran back to the little rivulet. In a broken
cocoanut shell he secured some fresh water and began his journey to the
other side of the ridge. The sun was down to the level of the sea when
he came from the rocks and within sight of the spot where he had left
his fair companion.
She was not there!
A great trembling fear assailed him and he sank back with a groan of
despair. Then he heard his name called faintly and piteously.
"Here I am!" he cried. "Where are you?" A glad cry arose from below, and
he saw her coming rapidly from the small boulders near the water, some
distance to the left. He hurried to meet her.
"Oh, I thought you had left me to die up there," she gasped as they drew
near to each other. "Mr. Ridgeway--Hugh, I am so glad you have come."
"You were asleep when I came back an hour ago. See? I have found water.
Drink!" With one hand he reached down and took hers, eagerly
upstretched, drawing her to the rock on which he stood. She gulped the
contents of the shell with the haste of one half famished.
"How good!" she cried, with eyes sparkling as she took the empty shell
from her moist lips. "I was so thirsty that I tried to drink that bitter
stuff down there. How horrible it must be to die of thirst. Can we find
food, Hugh? Is there nothing to eat? I am so hungry, so hungry." The
sparkle faded from her eyes and a look of pain filled them.
"I have found cocoanuts on the other side of the hill. We can make them
serve until I have a chance to look farther. Come. We must hurry, or the
night will make it impossible for us to cross this hill and find
the cave."
"Cave?"
"A wonderful shelter for the night. Can you walk that far? It will not
be difficult after we reach the top of this little mountain."
Together they began the tortuous ascent, following as closely as
possible the course he had taken. They were scarcely able to stand when
they at last reached the top. Neither saw the beauty in the view, so
eager were they to find rest and nourishment. As they passed painfully
down the slope, he told her of the monkeys, the nuts, the cave, the
rivulet, and the splendor of the scene, cheering her lagging spirits
with what animation he could assume. A few chattering monkeys welcomed
them to the woodland, and she was momentarily aroused to interest in her
surroundings, uttering little cries of delight. They came to the pile
of nuts, and he took up several in his free arm. The cave was reached at
last and both sank exhausted to the white sand. It was now so dark that
the stars were gathering above them and objects were indistinct to
the vision.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed, lying flat on his back, his arms
outstretched.
"I am so tired," she murmured, her head drooping against the wall as she
seated herself near the opening. After many minutes he began the task of
opening the cocoanuts.
"To-morrow I shall go hunting for something more substantial than these
nuts. There must be fruit, berries and vegetables of some kind in the
forest," said he.
"How are we to get away from here, Hugh?" she asked. "Where are we? This
may be an uninhabited island, and we may have to stay here all of our
lives." There was an awe in her voice, and he could imagine that the
prospect brought horror to her face. By this time it was almost
pitch dark.
"Have I not found food, water and shelter within an hour's time? Can
good fortune end with this? Let us sleep peacefully to-night and hope
for the best with to-morrow's developments."
"Sleep? Where are we to sleep?"
"In this cave and upon the sand. There is no other place. It is safe,
Lady Tennys, and you are to have my coat as a pillow for that tired
little head of yours." With this he arose and threw off his coat
despite her protests, rolling it into a compact little bundle. Placing
this improvised pillow on the sand near the rear of the cave, he said:
"There is your bed, my Lady. It is the very best in the hotel."
"You are so good to me, Hugh,--much better than I thought you could be
after--after--"
"Please don't say what you started to say," he interrupted, his voice
breaking suddenly. He stood with his shoulder against one of the outer
corners of the cave, she sitting quietly behind him. At last he went on,
as if the thought came slowly, "Lady Huntingford, forgive my
selfishness. I have been bewailing my own misfortune in a most unmanly
way, while you have borne your loss bravely, thinking only to comfort
me. Forgive me."
"My loss?" she asked in wonder.
"Lord Huntingford," he said gently.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, starting sharply. "Lord--Lord Huntingford! Oh,
Hugh, I had forgotten--I had not thought--," but she did not complete
the bewildered speech. He could have believed that she did not breathe
during the next few moments as she stood there, straight and rigid,
clasping his arm convulsively. Then she turned away and walked quickly
to the bed on the sand, lying down without a word. He could distinguish
nothing of her person save certain outlines in the darkness, and
although he listened intently, he heard no sob, no sigh.
Soon his eyes grew heavy and he felt the overpowering force of sleep
upon him. Removing his waistcoat, he went to the other side of the cave
and prepared to stretch himself out for rest. He paused and listened for
a sound from her. None came, so in some trepidation he stepped nearer.
Soft, regular breathing, deep and full, told him that she was asleep. In
considerable wonder he went back to his hard bed. Out of the confusion
of thoughts and impressions that followed her surprising admission, came
at last the dim, sleepy understanding of the situation.
She had not thought of Lord Huntingford until he mentioned the old
nobleman's name.
With the last faint whirl of wakefulness came the suggestion of roaming
wild beasts, creeping up to attack them in the night, but sleep greedily
swallowed the half-formed fear.