They had barely gained the shelter of the tunnel and extinguished
the light, when the prows of the canoes grated against the rock, and a
number of natives scrambled out upon the platform, jabbering loudly.
Would they remain there, or enter the tunnel where the little band of
unarmed adventurers--for the captain had neglected to fetch a musket,
and Don to load his pistols--lay concealed? It was a moment of
breathless suspense. Then a torch was lighted, and 'the intruders, to
the number of perhaps a score, filed off to the right and disappeared.
When the last echo of their footsteps had died away, the captain heaved
a sigh of relief, and bade Spottie relight the lantern.
“Not that I be afear'd o' the warmints, dye mind me, lad,” said he, as
if in apology for the sigh; “only--spike my guns!--a couple o' brace o'
fists 'ud be short rations to set under the noses o' sich a rampageous
crew, d'ye see. Howsome-dever, the way's clear at last, as the shark
says when he'd swallied the sailor; so beat up to wind'ard a bit, till
we diskiver whereaway the warmints's bound for.”
“There's another passage, most likely,” observed Don, holding the
lantern aloft at arm's length as they left the tunnel behind and
reemerged upon the rock platform. “Ha! there it is, captain; yonder, in
the far corner.”
“Right ye are, lad,” replied the captain with a chuckle. “We'll
inwestigate into this 'ere subterraneous ramification, says you; so
forge ahead, my hearty.”
The entrance to the second tunnel was quickly gained, and into it,
as nothing was either to be seen or heard of the natives, they
“inwestigated”--to use the captain's phraseology---as far as a flight of
steps which extended upwards for an unknown distance beyond the limits
of the lantern's rays. Here the captain paused, and bending forward:
“Scrapers an' holystones, lad!” cried he with a chuckle; “the
quarterdeck of a ship-o'-the-line itself ain't cleaner'n these 'ere
steps. Native feet goin' aloft and a-comin' down continual, that's
what's scraped 'em, says you; an' so I gets an idee. This 'ere
subterraneous carawan as we've been an' diskivered is the tail o' the
'Elephant'!”
“The what, captain?” cried Don.
“Why, d'ye mind me, lad,” the captain proceeded to explain, “when them
lubberly land-swabs as pilots elephants--which I means mahouts, d'ye
see--when they wants to go aloft, so to say, how does they manage the
business? I axes. They lays hold on the warmint's tail, says you, and
up they goes over the starn. Wery good! This 'ere's a Elephant Rock as
we're at the present moment inwestigatin' into, d'ye mind me, an' when
betimes the lubberly crew as mans it is ordered aloft onto the animile's
back, why, up these 'ere steps they goes. An' so I calls 'em the tail o'
the 'Elephant'--an' why not? I axes.”
Don gripped the old sailor's hand impulsively.
“Hurrah! this discovery's worth a dozen hours' groping underground,
captain!” he cried. “For if the natives can gain the Elephant Rock by
following this passage, why can't we do the same? Jack, old boy, if
you're still alive--which you are, please God!--we'll find you yet!”
“Ay, at the risk of our wery lives, if need be!” responded the captain,
in tones that lost none of their heartiness through being a bit husky.
“An' the bag o' pearls, too, for the matter o' that, lad,” he added;
“for, d'ye see, as the old song says:
We always be ready,
Steady, lad, steady!
We'll fight an' we'll conquer agin and agin!
“Howsomedever, fightin' without wittles ain't to be thought of, no more'n
without powder, says you; so 'bout ship an' bear away for the Ha'nted
Pagodas!”
“Thank Heaven for the fire and that tumbledown wall!” ejaculated Don as
they retraced their steps to the platform. “Chance has done for us what
no planning--or fighting either, for the matter of that--could ever have
done. We started on a wrong road, but, all the same, it has led us to
the right place.”
“Ay, lad, only chance bain't the right word for it, d'ye see. There's
a Providence, lad, as sits up aloft,” said the captain, lifting his cap
reverently. “I bain't, so to say, a religious cove; but, storm or calm,
them's the wery identical words as I always writes in my log. An', d'ye
mind me, lad, 'tis the hand o' the Good Pilot as has guided us here
to-night.”
“I don't doubt it,” replied Don gravely, “any more than I doubt that the
same Good Pilot will guide us safely into port. Bearing that in mind, we
have only to mature our plans and end the whole thing at a stroke. Here
we are, and now for the creek,” he concluded, crossing the platform and
thrusting aside the pendent vines. “We'll borrow one of the canoes those
niggers came in. Hullo, they're gone!”
“Some of the lubberly crew stopped aboard and rowed off agin, belike,”
observed the captain. “Blow me, if we shan't have to take to the water,
as the sailors said when they'd swallied all the rum.”
Don made no reply, but rapidly divesting himself of his coat and shoes,
he slipped into the water before the old sailor well knew what he was
about.
“I'm off for the canoe we hid in the jungle,” he called back as he
struck out for the other shore.
“Ay, ay, lad!” responded the captain; “an' here's to your speedy retarn,
as the shark says when they hoisted the sailor into the ship's gig.”
Swimming the creek was, after all, an insignificant feat for a
sturdy-limbed young fellow like Don. The water was warm and refreshing,
the distance far from great. A dozen vigorous strokes, and he was well
within the deep shadow of the opposite cliff, for he deemed it prudent
to avoid the moonlight, lest by any chance the natives who had removed
the canoes should be in the vicinity.
Once, indeed, he fancied he actually heard a faint splashing in the
water a short distance ahead. He floated for a moment, motionless and
alert; but as the noise was not repeated, he swam on again. He had made
scarce half-a-dozen strokes, however, when he suddenly felt himself
gripped from below by the leg. His first thought was of sharks; his
next, that he was in the clutches of a human foe, for a vice-like hand
was at his throat.