WE ENTER INTO A CAVERN, THE LIKE OF WHICH NO MAN HAS EVER YET TOLD OF.
No sooner did this new idea come to me than I sprang down the rocks to
where our canoe lay, stepped into it, pulled up the stone which served
as an anchor, and, in a perfect rage of haste, paddled to that part of
the lake where, as I have told, we were like to have been drawn down
with the whirlpool.
To this region we had found no occasion to go since our first hazardous
voyage thither, there being no woods, but only the high stony mountain.
But now, nearing this part, I perceived, with a tumult of joy, a wide
cavern in the rock, disclosed by the falling of the water from its
previous height: moreover, there was no longer any whirlpool there, but
only a gentle current flowing into the cavern, which was the natural
efflux of the streams that came down from the mountains. And it can be
readily understood that when the waters were swollen so prodigiously as
to lie some depth above this cavern, there should be that vast eddy as
they were sucked down to find vent by this passage.
Without fear I pushed my canoe to the very edge of the cavern and looked
within; and, though the pitchy darkness of it was frightful enough, yet
I was comforted by hearing no great noise of tumbling water, nor even
the faintest echo, save of a little ripple, which convinced me that I
might safely venture therein, with the assurance that I should come to
no horrid falls, but reach, in due course, the issue of this stream upon
the other side of the mountain. But I could go no further at this time
for my impatience to carry comfort to my dear lady. So back I went with
as much speed as I had come, and, seeing my dear lady standing at the
cavern-mouth, I cried out with all my force for joy. Then, coming all
breathless to where she stood in amaze, I essayed to tell her; but for
some moments could utter no comprehensible words.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Benet?" says she.
"My little comrade," gasps I, "you shall weep no more. Your cheek shall
grow full and rosy again. I have found the means to get from this
accursed venomous prison!"
Lady Biddy looked at me in mute amazement, my feverish excitement giving
her good reason to doubt whether I was not bereft of my reason; but, to
cut the matter short, for 'twas ever to me an easier matter to act than
to talk, I begged her to step into our canoe, that I might show her my
discovery. This she did without further ado, whereupon I pushed across
the lake till we came to the newly-found cavern, and there cast out our
anchor of stone, that we might examine the entrance at our ease.
"There," says I, pointing into the grotto--"there lies our road to
liberty!"
She peered into the darkness some time in silence, and then, with a
hushed voice--
"I see no glimmer of light, Benet," says she.
"Nay," says I, "doubtless the tunnel reaches far and has many windings
ere it disembogues beyond the further side of these mountains; but
assuredly it has an issue, and I conclude the passage must be
sufficiently commodious, since it gives no echo of break or fall, and
has sufficed to carry off the vast body of waters so speedily, for you
must remember how suddenly the lake fell after the flood ceased to rush
in from the Baraquan. I believe you have nothing to dread here."
"I am ever ready," says she, "to put my life in your hands; but have you
no fear for yourself?"
"I value my life only as it may serve you," says I with a transport.
On that, with a sudden impulse, she stretched out both hands to me,
while her eyes were flushed with a tear of joy. As quickly I seized them
in mine, pressing them as I had not hitherto dared. She did not try to
draw them away, but smiled, while a single tear coursed down her cheek;
and if I had drawn her to my breast that moment, I think she would have
made no resistance, so virginal innocent was her heart, and pure from
any feeling but that of responsive affection.
We lost no time in beginning our preparations for departure, and that
evening we made up into cakes for next day's baking all the cassavy meal
I had ground in the morning for our week's consumption. I was up at
daylight the next morning, and, having made a good fire on the kitchen
hearth, killed and dressed four acutis and a couple of chickens, for
there was no knowing how long we might go before we again got fresh
supplies. By this time, my lady having come back from her morning bath
all fresh and bright as any pink after a summer shower, we sat down to
our breakfast very merry and hopeful, discoursing all the while on the
business before us. After that she set to a-baking of our cakes on the
hearth and roasting meat at another fire, so that one would have thought
we expected to entertain friends, and were preparing a banquet for them.
While this was about, I went into the wood to cut some poles for guiding
us through the cavern, and also I got me some good canes, with which I
proposed to fence about our canoe, that we might be fended from sudden
encounter with sharp rocks. In addition I gathered a good store of fresh
fruit, and a quantity of cuati nuts on their branches, which the Ingas
use for lamps, etc., than which no candles of wax give better light with
less smoke.
All these things I carried back to the cavern by the time the sun had
reached the meridian, and there I found dinner spread on our table, and
no more sign of disorder than on any other day, my Lady Biddy being one
of those excellent rare women, who, no matter how busy they be, keep a
clear head, and neglect none of those comforting attentions on which
domestic happiness so much depends.
The rest of that day I spent in strengthening and defending our canoe
(our fate depending thereon as much as anything), while my lady packed
up those things we were to carry with us; and many a time she came to me
in distress to know if we could not take this, or if we must leave that
or t'other, for I had bid her take no more than was needful to us.
"The truth is," says she, when I went to her once, "I have not the heart
to leave anything behind; for I cannot touch a thing but that it reminds
me of the pleasure you have given me in making it for my use." Then
after a pause, in which she looks around her, "Oh! Benet," adds she, "I
never realized till now how happy we have been here; so I must needs
feel sad in leaving these tokens behind."
The next morning we packed our effects in the canoe, and this being
done, we carried my lady's pets from the conies' cave (as I call it) to
the wood, and there set them free; but, Lord, to see these dumb things
at the water's edge (the conies on their hind-legs), looking after their
mistress, as if they had a notion they should never see her again,
touched our hearts with sad regret.
"Farewell, you dears!" says my lady tearfully; and then, as we glided
past our cavern, "Farewell, little home!" but she could say no more.
So in silence we neared that cavern where we were about to venture our
lives; for I now perceived how serious and grave a business lay before
me.
Before entering the grotto, I lit one of the cuati-nuts, and stuck it in
a fork of green hard wood I had fixed to the prow of the canoe for that
purpose. Then, my lady having a pole out on one side, and I one on the
other, we recommended ourselves to Providence, and pushed into the
darkness.
For some time we went gently down with the current, only using our poles
to keep us head foremost, and as nigh the middle of the stream as we
could judge. And here it was admirable to see how the rocks on either
hand and above flashed back the light from our flaming nuts, for all the
world like cut diamonds; but after a while, upon looking back, the
opening of this cavern (through which we had come) looked no bigger than
the flame of a penny candle, and the glitter of the rocks grew less
perceptible, from which we concluded that the grotto, instead of
diminishing, was increasing in capacity. At first this was no matter of
regret, but rather the contrary; but by-and-by, when we could descry no
light at all behind us, nor any reflection from the rocks around, a
strange feeling crept upon me, for which I can find no name. Save the
reflection of the burning nut upon the black water, and our own figures
as we stood up in the canoe (which were shadowy enough for creatures of
another world), we could see nothing. The water under the fire lay as
still and smooth as any polished mirror; for aught we could tell, the
current had ceased to flow, and we had come to a standstill. I thrust my
pole out on either side; it touched nothing. I slid it downwards into
the water, and my arm also up to the elbow, without striking the bottom.
Then I struck upward as far as I could reach, without meeting any
resistance. And on this I looked in my lady's face, and saw it white as
a ghost's, and full of awe.
"We seem to have drifted into the world of nothing," says I sportively.
She lifts up her finger in silence a moment, and then in a whisper says
she:
"There is no echo."
This indeed impressed me, more deeply than all the rest, with a sense of
that vastness and obscurity in which we stood; and I could not speak,
for fear of I know not what. And then, as we stood in that wondrous
silence, there came a hollow voice from the immensity above, echoing my
words after all this interval, but in such a hollow, muffled sound as
you may hear after dropping a stone into a deep well.
"Are we moving, Benet?" says my lady, drawing a little nearer to me.
But I could not say whether we were or not, nor knew I any device to
ascertain the truth.
I made my lady sit down, seeing she was much terrified by this strange
experience, and replenished the fire at the prow; for though this light
was of no service for our guidance, yet I felt that to be without it
would be terrible, in good sooth.
So we waited, gazing about us for some sign of change (with the hope we
were yet moving with a current whose now was too even for perception),
until I guessed by my feelings it must be getting on for noon. Then,
with what spirit I could muster, I proposed we should eat our dinner.
But a more ghostly meal I never ate in my life; for all seemed so unreal
that it was difficult to believe in our own existence almost. Nay, it
crossed my mind that, for aught we knew to the contrary, we were now in
some limbo of a future state.
"I do not think we are moving, Benet," says my lady, when our meal was
at an end; "shall we not use our oars?"
"With all my heart," says I; "but as to steering, we must leave that to
Providence." Indeed, I should long before have brought our oars into
play but for the uncertainty as to whither we might come. For 'twas as
likely as not we should pull in the wrong direction, having nothing for
our guidance, and so, getting out of the current (if current there
were), come into some stagnant part of those waters, where we might
paddle about forever and a day and find no exit; but of this I said
nothing, lest I should inspire my lady with more terrors than she had
already.
And so we rowed on, from time to time replenishing our fire, and my
heart sickening at the thought that we might be pushing into the depths
of a boundless space, and away from all hope of deliverance. We had food
for a week; but I doubted our fire-nuts would hold out three days. And
when they were all spent, we must row in endless night, neither seeing
each other nor any faintest glimmer, and that only till our food was
spent. At this I did fervently pray for mercy--if it were only to catch
sight again of the mouth by which we had entered--that we might get back
once more into the light of day. My poor little comrade was thinking at
this time of the sunlight and her conies, with a longing to be back in
our deserted cavern, as she told me.
We rowed till our strength was exhausted; then I bade my lady lie down
and rest, while I watched and kept the nuts burning. When she had taken
her slumbers, she insisted upon my doing likewise, and with some
reluctance I, in my turn, lay down and fell asleep.
I awoke, and then seeing nothing whatever, for the light was no longer
burning, I cried out with a terrible fear that my lady was no more.
But her sweet voice brought me quick relief, as she told me that she had
thought it best to economize our fuel. "And, Benet," says she, "are we
not more likely to catch sight of a faint light in the distance if we
have no fire here to dazzle our eyes?"
"Why, there you are in the right, as you ever are," says I.
"That emboldens me to another suggestion," says she. "As we have not
been rowing for many hours, it may be that we have drifted again into a
current, so do let us rest as patiently as we can doing nothing."
I agreed to this, and we passed an interminable time, as it seemed, as
best we might; but, truly, no hours ever spent in that dear soul's
company were ever so tedious or weary. For, as I say, we had no means of
telling whether we were moving or standing still; but lay there, seeing
nothing, hearing no sound, feeling no motion, and in a state of
uncertainty and dread of unknown possibilities that was enough to drive
one to a frenzy.
And so we lay or drifted (I know not which) for a time that seemed to
have no end. Once or twice we made a pretense of being hungered, though,
Lord knows, 'twas pain to swallow a morsel for our vast terror; and
sometimes we made as if we would go to sleep a while, but could never
close our eyes for blinking at the darkness in hope of seeing some sign
of light; and from time to time we burned a fire-nut, but without
perceiving any change at all in our condition.
But at length, when we were beginning to talk of the advisability of
rowing again, for we were as blind to our position as ever, to our
unspeakable joy we felt the cane fender of the canoe grinding against
the rocks, and before I could get a light to see where we were, my lady
cried aloud with joy:
"Look, dear Benet--look up there!"
And casting my eyes round, without knowing whither she pointed, I
presently spied a bright star; and the next moment the whole starry
firmament was revealed.
Thus did we come out of that wondrous cavern in the night, having gone
into it in early morning; but whether we had been therein one day or
three we could never make out.