A strange depressing sensation came over the young prisoner as he stood
there once more alone, but he turned sharply round with his teeth set,
thought for a few moments about his course back, and then, feeling more
determined and firm, walked slowly on, and to his great delight found
that it was possible to become educated to do without sight, for, each
time that he thought he was near a pillar, he stretched out his hand to
find that he touched it, and with very little difficulty he walked
straight up to the old sail, felt about, and there was the basket of
food, which he attacked at once, and soon after fell asleep.
Four more visits were paid him by Ram, but whether they were at
intervals of days or half days, the prisoner could not tell, for any
questions he asked were laughingly evaded, and all attempts at
persuasion and bribery proved useless.
He did learn that the cutter had just returned and gone away again. And
it seemed to him that he was forgotten, but he never thoroughly lost
heart, and during this time he had accustomed himself to the darkness,
and educated his feet wonderfully in the topography of the place.
Of one thing he had fully satisfied himself, and that was the
hopelessness of getting out by the way his visitors came in. They were
too cautious ever to leave the door unguarded; hence the prisoner felt
that if he knocked down and stunned the frank, good-tempered boy who
seemed disposed to be the best of friends in every way but that of
helping him to escape, he would be no nearer freedom than before.
He had gone up the slope twice, and the last time crept near enough to
see that Ram was climbing up a well-like shaft by means of rugged
projections in the wall, that as he got about twenty feet up he handed
the lanthorn to the man, climbed out through a square opening, and then
a trap-door was shut down, locked, and bolted, and what sounded to be a
number of heavy pieces of stone were drawn over.
As far as he could judge, after venturing up and nearly having a severe
fall in the darkness, escape was impossible that way, so he returned
after each trial to think, and come to the conclusion that if the place
had been used for the purpose of digging out stone, of which there could
be no doubt, there must be some other way by which the great pieces had
been dragged up to daylight.
With a lanthorn or torch he might easily have satisfied himself upon
this point. To achieve it without was a terribly risky task.
Still he determined to try, and after a hasty meal, directly his gaolers
had paid their last visit, he started off in the opposite direction to
that which led to the trap-door, and proceeding cautiously, taking the
precaution to keep on throwing pieces of stone before him, to satisfy
himself that there was no well or pit in his way, he went on and on.
Now he threw a piece of stone to his left hand, to his right, and after
going many yards at what was but a snail's pace, he discovered that the
place had suddenly contracted, and after creeping a little farther, the
place was more contracted still, and ascended. So narrowed was it now
that a couple of steps in either direction enabled him to touch a wall,
while about twenty short paces farther on the ascent grew much more
straight, and there was no fear of a pit or shaft in the way, for he
found that roughly square blocks of stone were laid like a flight of
steps, up which he clambered, and then sunk down, overcome by the
feeling of joy which had flooded his brain.
He must have come up quite fifty feet after ascending the slope along
which he had walked, and here he was at the top of the flight of clumsy
stairs on a kind of platform of rugged stones, and straight before him
there was a chink so narrow that he could not have thrust a hand through
it, but wide enough to allow the passage of a gleam of light; there was
a familiar odour, too, of salt air and seaweed, and as he placed his ear
to the chink he could hear, as if far below, the wash of water.
"Why, this must be at the side of the cliff," he said joyously; and if
he could enlarge that crack there would be a way out to the face of the
rocks, where it would go hard with him indeed if he could not climb up
to the grassy fields above, or down to the shore below.
"Why didn't I try this before?" he cried. "Oh, how foolish! Not get
out, eh? I'll soon show them that;" and he began to feel about
carefully all over the face of the stones before him, to satisfy himself
before long that there had been a large roughly square opening here,
which had been filled in with some pieces of stone, between which he
could feel that there was mortar.
"Now, then, what I want is a good marlinspike or an iron bar. Oh, if I
had my dirk here I could move them with that."
But he had neither bar, marlinspike, nor dirk, nothing but his hands and
a small pocket-knife, so a depressing feeling of vexation humbled him
for a time.
He soon cast that off though, for it was impossible to feel low spirited
in the face of such a discovery, and before commencing the task he had
in hand he knelt down with his face close to the chink to drink in the
delicious sea air.
"I wonder how long I shall be a prisoner," he said aloud; and he
laughed, for he could see no difficulties now. Still they began to
appear soon after, and the first one he mentally saw was the coming of
Ram with his food. He must know the place thoroughly, as he had shown
by the care with which he threaded his way among the loose stones and
pillars, and if he came with his lanthorn and missed him, he might walk
up there and find him at work.
"I'll be careful," he said to himself; and taking out his knife forcing
himself to believe that it was about twelve o'clock each day that the
lad came, and if so, as it was about six hours, as near as he could
guess, since the basket was brought, he had about a couple of hours more
daylight, then the long night and all the morning, before his gaoler
would come again.
He bitterly regretted now not having tried to time Ram's visits,
forgetting that it would have been impossible to do so without light,
and, unable to restrain his impatience to the extent of waiting till he
came again, and watching for night from then, he went to work to try and
loosen a stone by the side of the crevice, and toiled away till at the
end of what seemed to be two hours, the light through the crevice paled,
grew dull, then dark, and for the first time for many days he knew that
it was night.
Cheered by his calculation being so far right, he worked and scraped out
the mortar, satisfied even with getting away the tiniest scraps, feeling
as he did that if he could only dislodge one stone he could bring up
from below plenty of great and splinter-shaped pieces with which he
could hammer, and take out the rest, or enough for his body to pass
through.
So light-hearted did he feel, as guiding the point of his knife by his
fingers, he picked and scraped away, that he began to hum a tune over
softly. It was as black now as it was in the deepest part of the
ancient quarry, but that did not seem to matter, for it was only the
darkness of evening, and if he waited there and kept on working, he
would see, first of all, a long pallid ray that would grow brighter, and
bring as it were some light and hope, while as soon as he could get out
a stone he would be able to see the sea, perhaps even make out the
cutter, and signal.
No: the boy had said that it was gone. But it would come back, and they
would see his signals; a boat would come ashore, he would be fetched out
of this miserable black hole; the smugglers would be captured, and he
would have such a revenge on that boy Ram. It would be glorious.
But all depended upon little _ifs_--_if_ he could get out the stone,
_if_ the hole happened to be opposite the spot where the cutter was
moored, _if_ they could see his signals.
It was discouraging to have such thoughts as these, but Archy Raystoke
had been for days condemned to inactivity, and the opportunity of
working at something definite which proffered a way of escape made him
toil on with all his his might.
In fact, he was obliged to check himself, for his task needed care. Too
much exercise of the strength which had been growing latent might mean
breaking his knife, and the destruction of his hopes.
So he toiled on well into the night, picking and loosening tiny scraps
of mortar, which, hard though it was, had fortunately for him been made
of an exceedingly coarse sand, or rather very fine shingle, whose tiny
pebbles formed each a point to work upon till it was loosened and fell.
Archy's first thought was to work right on through the night, but the
monotonous task in the darkness, and the fatigue and excitement,
combined to produce their customary effect, and he found himself nodding
and starting into wakefulness so many times over, that he resolved at
last to go back to his starting-place, have a good meal, and then come
back.
He left his task with reluctance, but nature would not be refused, and
without much difficulty he found his way to the basket, ate heartily,
sat still to think a few minutes, and thought too much, starting up
suddenly and rubbing his eyes.
"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed. "I must have just nodded off to
sleep. Nearly wasted a lot of time."
Afraid to remain where he was, lest he should yield to the temptation
again and fall dead asleep, he eagerly made his way back to the slope
and the rough steps, to stand there wondering as he got to the top.
For there, straight before him, was a pale ray of light, and the place
smelt cool and fresh.
Surely a star or the moon must be up, he thought, as he knelt down and
resumed his task, feeling somehow a good deal rested.
The explanation was not long in coming, for to his astonishment the ray
of light grew brighter and brighter, and broadened out full of dancing
motes when he had been an hour at work, teaching him that he had not
dropped off to sleep for a minute or two, but long enough to give him a
good night's rest sufficient to prepare him for the toil to come.
He felt vexed and called it laziness, working the harder to recover lost
time, and as the hours glided by listening intently for the slightest
sound from the quarry below that should indicate the coming of Ram with
his daily portion of food.
On previous days he had looked forward to the lad's approach as
something that would break the monotony of his captivity, but now he
would have given anything to have known that by some accident the lad
would be kept away.
Still Archy toiled on, the stone he had attacked as tight as ever, but
quite a little heap of rough mortar increasing beneath where he knelt.
"It's only getting out the first one," he argued; "the others will come
easily enough."
And so, full of hope, he kept on, till feeling that it must be near the
time for the visit, he reluctantly closed his pocket-knife and went
down, gazing back first at the tiny ray of light which pointed the way
to liberty.
His arms ached and his fingers were sore. There was a blister too in
the palm of his hand where the knife had pressed; but these were trifles
now, and he seated himself in his old spot ready to receive his
visitors, and so full of hope that he could hardly refrain from shouting
for joy.
He could see it all, now. This was quite an ancient mine, one perhaps
from which all the best stone had been worked. Where Ram came down was
the land entrance, and the ray of light marked the opening in the face
of the cliff, from which the pieces of stone had been lowered down into
boats or ships below. After the smugglers had taken possession it
seemed probable that they had filled up the hole in the cliff face,
though it struck Archy that this would leave them a handy place to get
their cargoes ashore if they had tackle to haul it up, and get it into
their store at once.
The time seemed very long before the rattle and rumble of the stones on
the trap-door struck upon Archy's listening ear, but at last, after he
had convinced himself that he might have worked two or three hours
longer, there it was, and then came the rattle of the bolts and the
sharp sound of the lock. Directly afterwards there was a soft glare,
the lanthorn appeared like some creature of light swaying and floating
towards him in the darkness till it stopped close by, and Ram's now
familiar voice exclaimed,--
"Hullo there! Getting hungry?"
"Yes," said Archy, in a voice he wished to sound surly and obstinate,
but which in spite of his wishes had a cheerful ring, which affected
Ram, who began to laugh and chatter.
"Nice to be you," he said. "Get all the good things, you do. Fried
fish to-day, and pork pie. I say, midshipman, you have got into good
quarters, you have."
Archy tried to seem sulky.
"Oh, you needn't talk without you like, but they didn't feed you up
aboard ship like you're getting it now, I know; salt beef, then salt
pork, and hard biscuits. Why, it's like fattening up one of our pigs
for Christmas. I say, you are quiet. Haven't been at one of them
little kegs, have you? Oh, very well; if you don't like to talk, I
can't make you."
"Are you going to let me out of this place?" said the midshipman, so as
to keep up the idea of his longing to be set free, and chase any
suspicions of his having discovered a way out.
"When I get orders, Mr Orsifer, and not before. I aren't skipper, no
more nor you are."
"Another piece of insolence," thought the prisoner. "Oh, how I will pay
him out for this by and by!"
"Aren't you going to peck?"
Archy took no notice, and at last there came, in a deep, echoing growl
through the place,--
"Say, lad, going to be all day?"
"Coming, Jemmy," Ram shouted. "Want anything else, midshipman?"
"Yes, you to go and not worry me," replied Archy, heartily repenting his
words the next moment for fear that they should excite suspicion.
But they did not, for Ram only laughed and walked away.