Jack was the first to break the silence that followed the spinning of
the fateful coin. He rose, stretched himself, and, pointing to a ruddy
glow that had begun to light up the eastern horizon, exclaimed in a
voice of undisguised relief:
“Daybreak at last!”
“I only wish it would never come,” his companion rejoined gloomily,
turning his gaze upon the unwelcome light--of which, however, he had
caught scarce a glimpse ere he sprang to his feet in sudden excitement.
“That's no daybreak, Jack! It's more like the reflection of a fire.”
“I believe you're right,” assented Jack. “It certainly _is_ a fire; but
where can it be, that we see only the reflection? Behind Haunted Pagoda
Hill?”
“No; this side of the hill, I should say.”
“Then it must be somewhere in the creek.”
At mention of the creek Don started violently, a suspicion of the truth
flashing upon him. He began to sniff the air. An odour of smoke floated
to them on the fresh morning breeze, faint but pungent. Jack, catching a
whiff of it, fell to sniffing too.
“Well, what do you make of it?” Don inquired anxiously.
“Tar!” replied Jack, without hesitation.
“I thought so,” said Don, with a queer catch in his voice. “Jack, it's
the cutter!”
With this he set off at a run towards that part of the Rock which
overlooked the creek. Advancing as far as the rapidly-increasing slope
of the declivity, made it prudent to venture, he came to a stand. The
glow of the fire was now brighter, though its source still remained
hidden from view; but by edging his way well to the right, he at length
succeeded in reaching a point whence the ruddy light that had excited
his fears could be seen as a leaping, swaying column of smoke and flame,
terminating, far down amid the darkness of the creek, in a single point
of lurid red.
“Just as I feared!” he cried, as Jack rejoined him. “The niggers have
set fire to the _Jolly Tar_. I was afraid the rascals had smelt her out
when I met the lascar in the creek the other morning. The old boat's
done for, anyhow; so let me off my promise, Jack.”
“What for? I can't see that the burning of the cutter has anything to do
with it. There are plenty of native boats to get away in.”
“Oh, it isn't the getting away! You don't suppose I'd go off and leave
you in the lurch, I hope? It's the powder that troubles me. There wasn't
much on board the cutter, it's true; just about enough to fight my way
back here with--as I meant to do, please God, had this not happened. I
planned the whole thing out while we sat mooning yonder, you see. But
now!” and at thought of how this hope--the secret of his acquiescence
in the outcome of that fatal toss--had vanished into thin air before his
very eyes, Don's lips trembled and his voice choked.
“Never mind, old chap!” said Jack, deeply touched by this new proof
of his friend's generosity; “I'll take the will for the deed. But, I
say--you pledged me your word, you know; and at daybreak, if no way of
anchoring the rope shows up, I shall expect you to go over the cliff
like a man. We shan't have long to wait now. Look!”
He pointed to a deep roseate hue which tinged the sky just above the
ocean rim. And even as they stood watching it, the light came leaping
up from the sea, and outshone the stars, and set the whole east aglow. A
flush of dawn, and it was day.
“Now,” said Jack, tightening his belt, “let's make the round of the Rock
again. If there's a shadow of a flaw anywhere we're bound to find it in
this light.”
“Heaven grant we may!” ejaculated Don, as they began the search.
The cliff forming the Elephant's left side was out of it altogether. The
native town lay directly at its base, rendering escape in that direction
impracticable. So, too, with that part of the Rock abutting on the
creek; its formation was such that no human being, rope or no rope,
could have made his way down its face. There remained only the
Elephant's right flank--overlooking the jungly back of the island--and
the loftier head parts facing the western sea. To these, then, the
search was necessarily confined.
Again and yet again did they pace the dizzy heights, scanning every inch
of the rocky surface for that crack or projection upon the existence
of which Jack's life was staked. But, as before, the search ended in
failure and despair. There was absolutely nothing--neither crevice, nor
jutting point, nor friendly block of stone--in which, or to which, the
rope's end could be made fast: nothing but Jack's body!
To secure the rope to the palms or the masonry of the temple was an
utter impossibility. It was too short by half.
As a last hope Don approached the chasm in which lay the pool. But
the hope was short-lived. The native guard had been trebled overnight.
Hope--so far, at least, as Jack's life was concerned--stood on a par
with the powder: not a grain was left.
As a matter of fact, Don had all along indulged a secret conviction
that “something would turn Up.” Now, when the terrible truth was at last
forced upon him in such a manner that he could no longer shut his eyes
to it, his distress was pitiable to witness.
He had hazarded his friend's life on the toss of a coin--and lost! And
now he must go over the cliff--over the cliff to safety and life--over
the cliff by means of a rope, at the death-end of which stood his
dearest friend. Given his choice, he would have taken that friend's
place--oh, how gladly! But go he must, for his honour was-pledged, and
the time was come!
Ay, the time was come--the supreme moment of Jack's heroic resolve. And
Jack was glad of it, ready for it. The fever in his blood had abated,
leaving him cool, collected, and more firm in his resolve than ever. He
had chosen his-course and he would stick to it, anyhow!
“Come,” he said simply, laying a gentle hand on Don's shoulder, “it is
time for us to go.”
“For us!” The words, though kindly meant stabbed Don to the heart.
Kicking the coil of rope before him like a ball, Jack approached the
brink of the precipice. The blacks followed. There was little danger of
their being missed by the native guard, unless the latter mounted the
steps, and this they were not likely to do after the severe lesson they
had received in the night. Last of all came Don--slowly, reluctantly. He
looked and felt like one going to his execution.
Without a word Jack picked up the loose end of the rope and knotted
it securely about his friend's chest, beneath his arms. When he had
uncoiled the rope to its full length, he fastened the other end about
his own waist. Then he held out his hand.
“Good-bye, old fellow,” he said, his voice shaking in spite of himself.
“Good-bye, and God bless you! Be sure and cast the rope loose when you
reach the ground.”
“Oh, Jack, Jack! Must I go--must I?” cried Don desperately, his voice
full of agony.
With unfaltering step Jack led him to the extreme brink of the cliff,
left him there with his face set towards liberty and life, turned back,
and beckoning to the blacks--who had purposely been kept in ignorance of
Jack's resolve--prepared to pay out the line.
“Over with you, old fellow! As gently as you can!”
The rope tightened. Wheeling where he stood, Don cast one last imploring
look at his friend, who pointed upwards and then motioned him to go. He
obeyed.
[Illustration: 0267]
As the remorseless Rock closed above him, he let himself swing, neither
seeing nor caring whither he was being lowered. The abyss below had no
terrors for him--he even hoped that the rope might snap--why should he
live since Jack must die? And when at last his feet touched earth, and
he had flung the rope from him like a hated thing, he threw himself
upon his face at the foot of the insurmountable cliff and burst into a
passion of bitter, remorseful tears.
After a time a gentle thud on the back aroused him. He looked up. It was
the rope again, but empty! What did it mean? Where was Spottie? Why
had he not been sent down? What had happened? A dozen questions such as
these flashed through his brain, and with them a sudden wild hope. He
started to his feet.
A scrap of paper was secured to the rope by a half-knot. He snatched at
it, drawing it to him with something of dread in the movement. It was a
leaf from Jacks note-book, scrawled over with writing in Jack's familiar
hand. His eyes devoured the words:--
“Good news! A wonderful thing has happened. Was just going to lower
Spottie away when the report of a gun came booming up from the sea. The
schooner--the governor's schooner--is at anchor off the front of the
island! I'd signal her, only I have no powder. I'm all in a daze,
anyhow; but you'll know what to do.”
An exclamation of intense gratitude to Heaven burst from Don's lips, and
crushing the scrap of paper in his hand, he set off at a run along the
base of the cliff, in the direction of the Elephant's head.