One pleasant afternoon in summer, Frank Costello jumped into his little
boat, and pulling her out of the narrow creek where she lay moored,
crept along the iron-bound shore until he reached the entrance of one of
those deep sea-caves, so common upon the western coast of Ireland. To
the gloomy recesses of these natural caverns, millions of sea-fowl
resort during the breeding season; and it was among the feathered tribes
then congregated in the "Puffin Cave," that Frank meant, on that
evening, to deal death and destruction. Gliding, with lightly-dipping
oars, into the yawning chasm, he stepped nimbly from his boat, and
making the painter fast to a projecting rock, he lighted a torch, and,
armed only with a stout cudgel, penetrated into the innermost recesses
of the cavern. There he found a vast quantity of birds and eggs, and
soon became so engrossed with his sport that he paid no attention to the
lapse of time, until the hollow sound of rushing waters behind him made
him aware that the tide, which was ebbing when he entered the cave, had
turned, and was now rising rapidly. His first impulse was to return to
the spot where he had made his boat fast; but how was he horrified on
perceiving that the rock to which it had been secured was now completely
covered with water. He might, however, still have reached it by
swimming; but, unfortunately, the painter, by which it was attached to
the rock, not having sufficient scope, the boat, on the rising of the
tide, was drawn, stern down, to a level with the water; and Frank, as he
beheld her slowly fill and disappear beneath the waves, felt as if the
last link between the living world and himself had been broken. To go
forward was impossible; and he well knew that there was no way of
retreating from the cave, which, in a few hours, would be filled by the
advancing tide. His heart died within him, as the thought of the horrid
fate which awaited him flashed across his mind. He was not a man who
feared to face death; by flood or field, on the stormy sea and the dizzy
cliff, he had dared it a thousand times with perfect unconcern; but to
meet the grim tyrant there, alone, to struggle hopelessly with him for
life in that dreary tomb, was more than his fortitude could bear. He
shrieked aloud in the agony of despair--the torch fell from his
trembling hand into the dark waters that gurgled at his feet, and,
flashing for a moment upon their inky surface, expired with a hissing
sound, that fell like a death-warning upon his ear. The wind, which had
been scarcely felt during the day, began to rise with the flowing of the
tide, and now drove the tumultuous waves with hoarse and hideous clamor
into the cavern. Every moment increased the violence of the gale that
howled and bellowed as it swept around the echoing roof of that
rock-ribbed prison; while the hoarse dash of the approaching waves, and
the shrill screams of the sea-birds that filled the cavern, formed a
concert of terrible dissonance, well suited for the requiem, of the
hapless wretch who had been enclosed in that living grave! But the love
of life, which makes us cling to it in the most hopeless extremity, was
strong in Frank Costello's breast; his firmness and presence of mind
gradually returned, and he resolved not to perish without a struggle. He
remembered that, at the farther extremity of the cavern, the rock rose
like a flight of rude stairs, sloping from the floor to the roof; he had
often clambered up those rugged steps, and he knew that, by means of
them, he could place himself at an elevation above the reach of the
highest tide. But the hope thus suggested was quickly damped when he
reflected that a deep fissure, which ran perpendicularly through the
rock, formed a chasm ten feet in width, in the floor of the cavern,
between him and his place of refuge. The tide, however, which was now
rising rapidly, compelled him to retire every instant, further into the
cavern, and he felt that the only chance he had left him for life was to
endeavor to cross the chasm. He was young, active, and possessed of
uncommon courage, and he had frequently, by torch-light, leaped across
the abyss, in the presence of his companions, few of whom dared to
follow his example. But now, alone and in utter darkness, how was he to
attempt such a perilous feat? The conviction that death was inevitable
if he remained where he was, decided him. Collecting a handful of loose
pebbles from one of the numerous channels in the floor, he proceeded
cautiously over the slippery rocks, throwing at every step a pebble
before him, to ascertain the security of his footing. At length he heard
the stone, as it fell from his fingers, descend with a hollow,
clattering noise, that continued for several seconds. He knew he was
standing on the brink of the chasm. One quick and earnest prayer he
breathed to the invisible Power, whose hand could protect him in that
dread moment--then, retiring a single pace, and screwing every nerve and
muscle in his body to the utmost tension, he made a step in advance, and
threw himself forward into the dark and fearful void. Who can tell the
whirlwind of thought that rushed through his brain in the brief moment
that he hung above that yawning gulf? Should he have miscalculated his
distance, or chosen a place where the cleft was widest--should his
footing fail, or his strength be unequal to carry him over, what a death
were his! Dashed down that horrible abyss--crashing from rock to rock,
until he lay at the bottom a mutilated corpse. The agony of years was
crowded into one moment--in the next, his feet struck against the firm
rock on the opposite side of the chasm, and he was saved. At least, he
felt that he had for the moment escaped the imminent peril in which he
was placed, and, as he clambered joyfully up the rugged slope at the end
of the cave, he thought little of the dangers he had still to encounter.
All through that long night he sat on the narrow ledge of a rock, while
the angry waves thundered beneath, and cast their cold spray every
instant over him. With the ebbing of the tide, the sea receded from the
cavern; but Frank hesitated to attempt crossing the chasm again; his
limbs had become stiff and benumbed, and his long abstinence had so
weakened his powers that he shrank from the dangerous enterprise. While
giving way to the most desponding reflections, a stentorian hilloa rang
and echoed through the cavern; and never had the human voice sounded so
sweetly in his ear. He replied to it with a thrilling shout of joy, and,
in a few minutes, several persons with torches appeared advancing. A
plank was speedily thrust across the fissure, and Frank Costello once
more found himself amid a group of his friends, who were warmly
congratulating him upon his miraculous escape. They told him that, from
his not having returned home the preceding night, it was generally
concluded that he had been drowned, and a party of his neighbors
proceeded in a boat, early in the morning, in search of his body. On
reaching "Puffin Hole," they discovered his boat fastened to a rock, and
full of water, as she had remained on the ebbing of the tide. This
circumstance induced them to examine the cavern narrowly, and the happy
result of their search is already known.