A DESPERATE ADVENTURE
Heroism is a plant of strange growth. It springs up suddenly,
mysteriously, in unexpected places. A simple peasant girl, tending her
flocks, hears a Voice; and she becomes a warrior, a leader of men, the
saviour of her country. A maidservant, after a day of scrubbing floors
and washing dishes, is darning stockings in the kitchen when she smells
fire, rushes into the bedroom where the children are asleep, and
carries them one by one through the flames into safety, at the cost of
her own life.
Such opportunities fall to few. The most of us trudge a very unheroic
journey through life. The road may be dusty, with ups and downs,
dangerous corners and wearisome hills; but we plod along, keeping
pretty closely to the highway, and taking great care at the crossings.
It is only the odd one here and there who, by what we call the accident
of circumstance, or by some compelling adventurousness of spirit,
strays into the golden fields of romance, and is transformed into the
shining semblance of a hero.
Yet the capacity for heroism may be latent under many a sober coat or
homely apron. The town girl who shudders at a cow, the country girl
who trembles at the looming of a motor omnibus, may show under the
stress of some high emotion, at the call of some great emergency,
qualities that match her with Joan of Arc or Alice Ayres.
Elizabeth Westmacott's life had been very simple and uneventful. She
had had nothing more difficult to cope with than the ordinary crosses
and perplexities of the daily round at the farm. She had never come
face to face with mortal peril, or felt any stern demand upon her
courage and endurance. But as she returned along the tunnel with her
sister a great resolution shaped itself within her mind. A white man
was in danger of his life; she would at least try to save him.
She was very quiet when she rejoined the little party in the pit. It
was Tommy who, quivering with excitement, related to Mary what she had
seen. The younger girls deplored the hapless condition of the old
missionary; they wished he could be saved, but they felt the vanity of
wishing. Elizabeth sat in silence, thinking hard.
"I must go up and get a breath of air," she said at last.
"I'll come too," said Tommy.
"No, dear, not yet; I want to be alone."
There was something in her tone that set her sister wondering.
"You'll be careful, Bess?" said Mary.
"Yes, I must be careful," was the reply.
Elizabeth climbed up the ladder. She was gone some time; her return
was announced by a slight rustling thud upon the ground; something had
been thrown into the pit.
"What is that?" asked Tommy. "Are you all right, Bess?"
"Quite right," said Elizabeth as she descended. "It is only a lot of
creepers. We are going to make another ladder."
"Another! We don't want another."
"The first isn't long enough or the right sort. I am going to release
the poor missionary."
The girls were for the moment speechless with amazement. Then Tommy
said--
"You are mad, Bess; it is impossible. Don't talk such absolute
rubbish."
"It isn't rubbish, dear. The savages are asleep. We can let down a
rope ladder. I will climb down and cut his bonds. He will be safe if
we get him into the tunnel."
"Oh, how insane you are! We shan't let you do any such thing."
"You are bound to wake them, Bess," said Mary; "you know how lightly
savages sleep. They are just like dogs, and wake at a whisper."
"Not when they have fuddled themselves. I _must_ do it, girls. I
can't bear to leave the poor old man to his fate without trying to help
him. It is possible, and you must help me."
Protest, entreaty, expostulation, were alike vain. Even when Tommy,
with an air of triumph, exclaimed, "The hole isn't big enough for you
to squeeze through," Elizabeth simply replied, "Then we must make it
bigger."
Tommy knew from old experience that her elder sister was rather slow to
make up her mind about anything; but when it was made up nothing would
turn her. Some people called it firmness, I dare say there was a touch
of obstinacy as well. It was evident that Elizabeth was thoroughly
determined now, and the younger girls at length desisted from their
attempts to dissuade her, and agreed to help.
Leaving Mary to assist Maku and Fangati in constructing a light ladder
from the creepers she had gathered, Elizabeth set off with Tommy to
return to the cave end of the tunnel. They had their knives with them.
On arriving at the hole, they saw that the natives were still asleep,
and several of the torches were almost burnt out. The dimmer light
favoured their work of enlarging the hole, which, as Tommy had said,
was too narrow by several inches for Elizabeth to pass through, still
less the rescued prisoner.
When Elizabeth said that the hole must be made bigger, she had no
definite knowledge whether it was possible. It was characteristic of
her to form a resolution and then bend everything towards its
accomplishment. If she had had a favourite motto it would have been
"Where there's a will there's a way." Nevertheless, it was with some
anxiety that she examined the hole. One side of it was solid rock; it
would be a week's work to make any impression on it with their knives.
But the other side was of a more friable character. It appeared to be
formed of fragments that had settled down, and become compacted by the
weight above. A tentative chipping at this with her knife showed
Elizabeth that it would not be a difficult matter to scrape away enough
to enlarge the hole by more than a foot.
There was danger in the task. Work as carefully as they might, it
would be impossible to prevent some of the chips and dust from dropping
into the cave. Luckily, none of the sleepers was immediately beneath
the hole; and Elizabeth thought that by working carefully, collecting
the larger chips and placing them on the floor of the tunnel, they
might obviate the risk of awakening the men by the noise of falling
stones.
They set to work very quietly, not daring even to whisper to each
other. By making boring movements with the points of their knives they
brought away a good deal of fine dust, which they took in their hands
as far as possible and cast at their feet. Whenever they found that a
piece of rock of any considerable size was becoming loosened they
ceased work altogether with their knives and worried it out with their
fingers. At such times the fall of a certain quantity of dust into the
cave could not be avoided, and more than once they stopped, holding
their breath as they listened for some signs of disturbance below. But
all went well. All that troubled them was the terrible slowness of the
work. They were certainly enlarging the hole, but every inch seemed to
take an hour. Elizabeth wondered anxiously whether they would have
finished before daylight, when it would be too late to go further with
her plan.
Thinking of this, her attention strayed for a moment from her work; and
before she could do anything to prevent it, a large fragment of rock
became detached, and fell with a crash upon the floor of the cave. The
girls started back, a cold shiver running through them. They heard
voices, but not so loud or excited as they expected. They dared not
look out at the hole, in case they were spied from below; but they
guessed that only a few of the sleepers had been awakened, and when,
after some minutes, the sounds diminished and ceased altogether, they
drew breath again.
Apparently the natives had not been alarmed; such falls of rock from
the roof of the cave were probably not uncommon. After an interval
they resumed their work with renewed courage, not, however, presuming
on their immunity, but taking even more care than before. A second
fall might not pass so easily.
They continued at the task for hours. The torches in the cave went out
one by one. When only one was left alight Elizabeth looked at her
watch. It was past four o'clock. The hole seemed to her now wide
enough to admit any ordinary man: but clearly it was too late to
attempt the more difficult part of her plan. She was tired out. It
would take some time to fetch the rope ladder from the pit, and before
the prisoner could be released and brought up into the tunnel, daylight
might be upon them. Besides, the feasters would have slept off the
effect of their orgy, and there would be a perilous risk of their
awakening. She thought it best to return to the pit and sleep. If
Maku was right, there was still more than thirty hours' respite, and
she would need all her strength and composure of mind for the final
effort.
The two girls dragged themselves wearily through the tunnel. Half-way
they heard footsteps approaching them.
"Who's that?" cried Tommy.
"I'm so glad you are safe," replied Mary. "We have finished the
ladder, though it wasn't easy to make it in the dark, and I was getting
anxious about you."
"We shall have to put it off until to-night," said Elizabeth. "The
hole is large enough now, but it is too late to do any more. We are
dead-beat and so terribly thirsty."
They returned to the pit and refreshed themselves with cocoa-nut juice.
But this was a poor substitute for water, and when Fangati heard them
say how they longed for water to drink, and to bathe their hands and
faces, she volunteered to climb up and bring full cups from the stream
that ran hard by. There was still an hour of darkness left, so
Elizabeth agreed, and the young girl clambered up the ladder, carrying
two of their tin cups. She returned very quickly, and made the journey
a second time: the girls, after bathing their heads with wet
handkerchiefs, lay down and slept the sleep of exhaustion.
It was high noon when they awoke, ravenously hungry. Elizabeth carried
the new ladder out into the pit, where there was sufficient light to
examine it. Considering that it had been made in darkness it proved a
wonderfully successful piece of work, and only needed strengthening
here and there.
"How will you fix it at the hole, Bess?" asked Tommy. "There is
nothing to fasten it to."
"I had thought of that. The only way is to bind the top end of it to a
long cane or stem--too long to pass through the hole. That will do it,
I think. I wish we had our boat-hook."
"Suppose it should break?"
"I am sure that the ladder won't break: those creepers are
extraordinarily tough, as you know. And half the strain will be borne
by the wall, so that the pole ought not to snap. With God's help we
shall succeed, dear."
"I am dreadfully afraid, Bess."
"The only thing I'm afraid of is the savages finding this pit. If they
should come to it they would certainly notice the newly-trampled
ground, and I don't think anything could save us then. But we must
hope for the best."
The day passed all too slowly. How they longed for night to come!
They could not feel easy in mind until they were sure that their
hiding-place was not discovered. Yet the younger girls dreaded the
night equally, for though the first part of Elizabeth's plan was safely
accomplished, they could not think without horror of their sister
descending among the savages. Elizabeth's quiet confidence amazed
them. All that disturbed her was the fear that the prisoner might not
be spared until nightfall.
Several times during the day she went to the end of the tunnel and
looked over into the cave. On one of these occasions the place was
empty except for the prisoner, who lay where she had seen him before,
motionless. Was he still alive? Had his captors given him food and
drink? She felt an intense compassion for the poor man. Would there
be time, she wondered, to set him free now, before the savages
returned? She blamed herself for not bringing the ladder with her; but
reflected that she could not have known that the cave would be
deserted. Probably by the time she had fetched the ladder and come
back with Maku and some of the others to assist her, the opportunity
would have passed.
But she might speak to the prisoner and let him know that an attempt
would be made to save him. She looked anxiously towards the mouth of
the cave. Nobody was in sight. No sound came from the exterior. She
might at least venture to make a sound that would attract the attention
of the prisoner and yet not arouse suspicion if it were heard by the
natives. Leaning slightly over the ledge, she gave a low whistle. The
prisoner did not stir. There was no sign that the sound had been
heard, either by him or by another. She whistled again rather more
loudly. Still no sign. Taking courage she bent still lower, and
called in a low, clear tone--
"White man!"
She could think of no other form of address. Maku had not told her the
missionary's name: she had not thought to ask it.
"White man!" she repeated.
The light was dim, but it seemed to her that the prostrate form moved.
"White man, do you hear me?" she said, panting, watching the entrance
of the cave intently, stretching her ears for the slightest sound.
There came a murmur from below.
"Do you hear me?" she called again.
"Yes," was the answer, in a tone so faint that she could scarcely catch
it. "Who speaks?"
"Listen!" said Elizabeth. "Friends are here--English friends.
To-night you will be set free. You will have to climb a ladder; do you
understand?"
"I hear," said the voice. "God bless you!"
"Hush!" said Elizabeth in a quick whisper: she had seen a shadow pass
across the entrance. She withdrew her head. A man entered, followed
by others, their arms full of food for the night's feast.
She hurried back to the pit, thrilling with excitement.
"He is alive!" she cried. "I have spoken to him, I told him we would
save him to-night."
"Oh, why did you!" said Mary tremulously. "Suppose you can't do it!
the poor man will be restless all day. The savages may notice it and
be on their guard."
"I am sure I did right," said Elizabeth. "It will be best for him to
be prepared. If he were released without warning he might be too much
overcome to collect himself, and our chance would be lost. As it is he
will know what to expect and be ready to help. Oh, I wish it were
dark!"
Knowing how much depended on her calmness and self-possession,
Elizabeth tried to sleep, but her nervous excitement made this
impossible. She employed herself during the remaining hours of
daylight in testing and strengthening the ladder, and especially in
ensuring that the loops through which the supporting pole was to pass
were strong enough to bear the strain. The pole could not be obtained
until the fall of night rendered it safe to issue from the pit. She
explained carefully to Maku and Tommy, who were to help her, how they
should hold the pole in position across the lower part of the hole, and
how, if they found that she had been discovered, they were to draw up
the ladder immediately and remain perfectly quiet. At this Tommy's
lips trembled: the idea of losing Elizabeth was dreadful. But she
determined not to increase the difficulty of her sister's task by any
show of agitation, and accepted her instructions without a word.
As for Maku, he had all along said nothing either for or against the
scheme. He seemed to have lost all individuality and to move like an
automaton at Elizabeth's bidding.
"What is your missionary's name?" she asked him.
He gave a native name which he was unable to translate; the English
name he had either forgotten or never heard.
As soon as the first shades of evening descended, Elizabeth and Fangati
climbed out of the pit, and after a little search returned with a stout
sapling, which, when a few inches had been snapped off, gave a rod not
so long as the breadth of the tunnel at the farther end, but longer
than the width of the hole. Having fastened the rope ladder firmly to
this, Elizabeth gave it to Maku to carry, and led the way along the
tunnel. She had wished Mary to remain with Fangati at the pit, but
Mary declared that she could not bear to be left behind wondering in
the agony of suspense, so the whole party set off, Elizabeth impressing
on them all the need of perfect silence.
They came to the end. The glare, the acrid smoke, the strident voices,
proclaimed that the ceremonies had already begun. Elizabeth gave one
glance into the cave, and having seen that the prisoner was still in
the same position she withdrew her eyes; the bestial conduct of the
savages sickened her. Hour after hour passed. The din was hideous.
It seemed that the ceremonies on this second night were being
prolonged. But presently they came to the same sudden end as before.
The drumming and the frenzied chant ceased; instead were heard the
sounds of men engaged in riotous feasting. Maku was restless; his
faded eyes lit up. Elizabeth remembered that he must have taken part
in similar orgies, and felt a nervous dread lest the excitement should
communicate itself to him, and he should by some sudden outcry betray
his presence. She laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered--
"Remember your friend there."
The old man gave a sigh, and shrank away from the hole, murmuring
incomprehensibly in his own tongue.
As on the previous night, the intoxicating liquor drunk by the rioters
produced its effect in somnolence. One by one they threw themselves
back and fell into swinish slumber. At last there was silence.
Several of the torches had gone out and not been replaced. Elizabeth
thought her chance of success would be greatest if she waited until
only one or two remained alight. She could not wait for absolute
darkness, for some light was necessary for her task, and she must act
while the sleep of the natives was heaviest.
Now that the critical moment had come she was strangely calm. All
nervousness and excitement had vanished; her whole being was possessed
by one dominating idea--the rescue of the prisoner. Noiselessly she
let down the flexible ladder, which lay close against the wall. Then
seeing that Tommy and Maku had grasped the ends of the small pole as
she had instructed them, she prepared to clamber through the aperture.
At the last moment Mary flung her arms round her neck and kissed her
passionately; then she was gone.
She slipped down the ladder very quickly on her bare feet, carrying her
open knife. She stood on the floor. The men were for the most part
stretched towards the middle of the cave, but one or two lay near the
prisoner. Pausing just one moment to look around, she moved quickly
along the wall, holding her skirts close about her as she passed the
sleepers. She came to the prisoner and stooped. His eyes were open.
She dared not cut his bonds with rapid strokes, for fear the snapping
should be heard. Gently she sawed the tendrils that were wound round
about his whole body, all her senses alert. It seemed ages before the
bonds were all loosened and removed.
The prisoner did not stir. Elizabeth beckoned to him, but with his
eyes he seemed to try to explain that he was helpless. One of the
natives moved uneasily, and for one intolerable moment Elizabeth lost
her head. Then she understood: the prisoner's bonds had been so
tightly drawn, and he had so long remained in the one position, that
his limbs were numbed. Slipping to her knees, she began to chafe his
legs. A man at the far end of the cave gave a cough, and a hot wave
surged through the girl. At that moment she could have wished the
earth to open and swallow her. But once again there was silence, and
the terror passed.
In a few minutes the prisoner was able to move his legs. Alternately
bending and straightening them, he felt them tingling with the coursing
blood. Elizabeth rose, glanced timorously round, and held out her
hands to him. He got up, staggered, and would have fallen but for her
sustaining arms. There was not enough space for both to pass abreast
between the wall and the prostrate natives. Walking backwards,
Elizabeth led him slowly towards the waiting ladder. Every step was
painful to him, and as he crept feebly on, Elizabeth's heart misgave
her; would he have the strength to climb? They came to the foot of the
ladder. All the torches were now extinguished save one. Complete
darkness would have been welcome if only Elizabeth could have had
confidence in the old man's strength. She pointed to the ladder, then
upwards towards the gap. The missionary understood. For an instant
Elizabeth hesitated. Should she go first, leaving the prisoner to
follow, or see him in safety before she mounted herself? A moment's
consideration showed her that she must be the first to climb. Maku and
Tommy would need all their strength to keep the pole in position; the
missionary was tall and no light weight; he could not scramble through
the hole unaided; therefore she must be there to help him. She dared
not speak to him, but in dumb show she indicated what he must do. He
nodded. Then she gave a slight tug upon the ladder as a sign to those
above, and nimbly mounted.
She reached the top, slid through the hole, and looked back. The old
man was beginning to climb. With fast-beating heart she watched him,
dreading that now, even at the last moment, he might miss his footing
and fall back among his mortal enemies. They slept on. Slowly,
carefully, the climber drew himself up. To Elizabeth, fixing her eyes
on him, it seemed that he would never reach her. The ladder creaked;
would the sleepers waken? She looked anxiously towards them; they did
not move. Inch by inch he came nearer; he had almost gained the top,
when he swayed and for one terrible moment she thought he was lost.
But with a great effort he recovered himself; he mounted again; his
head was level with the hole. Elizabeth thrust out her arms, gripped
his wrists, and drew him into the tunnel, holding him firmly with her
strong, supple hands. He was through.
But his shoulders had pressed heavily upon the sides of the hole, and
his feet had not touched the floor of the tunnel when several fragments
of loosened rock fell and struck the ground with a resounding clatter.
There was commotion below. Quick as thought Elizabeth drew up the
ladder, leaving Mary to support the old man, whose efforts had
exhausted him.
As the ladder came through the hole it caught a fragment of rock that
lay on the ledge. Elizabeth dashed forward to prevent this from
falling. But it escaped her and fell crashing to the ground at the
feet of one of the natives, who was looking up in wonderment at the
strange thing crawling as it were into the wall.
A yell proclaimed his discovery. All hope of secrecy was at an end.
Instantly the cave was filled with uproar. The sleeping men had leapt
to their feet. At first their cries were of amazement and alarm, but
one blew the flickering torch into flame, others kindled fresh torches
at it, and in the illumination they saw that their prisoner was gone.
In his place were the severed bonds, and beside them Elizabeth's open
knife, which in her anxious help of the old missionary she had
forgotten.
With yells of rage the natives dashed hither and thither, pointing at
the gap in the wall, in too great a frenzy of excitement to hit on a
means of pursuing the prisoner. One picked up a trade gun and fired,
but the uselessness of this must have been apparent to them all.
Suddenly, at a word from their chief, six of them darted from the cave
into the open. In a few minutes they returned, bringing two straight,
young trees which they had uprooted from the loose soil outside. These
they set against the wall, and with hideous shouts of anticipated
triumph they began to swarm up towards the hole.