I had every reason to be filled with apprehension. I was going, of a
certainty, into danger greater than any I had yet encountered. Whilst
searching in the Wood for John Bannister, my friend, I was like as not
to fall in with Amos Baverstock; and if that should happen, I could hope
for little mercy.
Bannister--as Rushby had told me--was weak from illness and half
starved,, so that much of his great strength of former days must have
deserted him, when most he had a need of it. Besides, I knew not
whether he were armed, for that was a question I had not stayed to ask
when I hurried forth from the ravine upon my quest.
I had therefore some cause to be afraid. And yet, in my heart, I was
glad as I had never been for months, as I raced upon my way into the
darkness of the Wood.
I was journeying towards my friend, the great man whom I had learned to
honour and admire upon the beach in Sussex. And I believed that the
Fates would not be so cruel to me that I should fail to find him. I
felt that I would soon look upon him once again, feel the iron grasp of
his hand, and behold the light of recognition in his kindly eyes.
Many hours of daylight were before me, when I entered the Wood of the
Red Fish; and then, for the first time I think, I realised that my task
was not an easy one. Had I started from the other side of the Wood, I
believe that I could have found the Spaniard's Tomb without much loss of
time; for I was by now well acquainted with that portion of the jungle.
But in this neighbourhood I was an utter stranger, though I had the sun
to guide me whenever I caught glimpses of the daylight between the
overhanging branches of the trees. Also, I carried in my mind a very
perfect recollection of the map.
I saw that it was necessary above all else to calm myself, to think the
matter out, instead of plunging into the business like a bolting horse.
My destination was the Spaniard's Tomb, and I was in possession of
certain valuable information, the most of which was quite unknown to
Amos. The Wood of the Red Fish itself was diamond-shaped, the four
angles approximately directed towards the north, south, east, and west.
Now, the Big Fish lay somewhere in the very centre of the Wood; and I
had formerly journeyed to the place from the south, following the Brook
of Scarlet Pebbles. This brook--as I had observed--flowed in a
north-westerly direction, towards the morass, which I had passed at the
end of the ravine in which I had just left William Rushby.
During the earlier days when I had adventured all alone, when I had
discovered both the Glade of Silent Death and the Tomb of Orellano's
soldier, I am convinced that I had never crossed the Brook of Scarlet
Pebbles. Indeed, I could scarce have done so without noticing at once
the singular character of the stream. I had become, during these months
extraordinarily observant; and my attention would certainly have been
attracted by the peculiar red stones with which the bed of the brook was
strewn. Hence, by a simple process of deduction, I was forced to the
conclusion that the Spaniard's Tomb must be somewhere in the
north-westerly part of the Wood; and the reader will the better
understand me if he glances at the map which I myself have made, and
which he must not think a facsimile of the real parchment map whereon
the Tomb was not even mentioned.
[Illustration: Map of the Wood of the Red Fish]
I was now, as I knew, somewhere on the southern side of the brook; and
that was the wrong side, if I was to find the Tomb with as little delay
as possible. Aided, therefore, by the position of the morning sun, I
directed my footsteps in a northerly direction, and came early in the
afternoon upon the Brook of Scarlet Pebbles, to the north of the Big
Fish. Thence, I decided to journey due eastward, hoping, sooner or
later, to come upon some place that I would recognise, which would
inform me of my whereabouts.
Sunset overtook me when I was in the very heart of the jungle. There
was just time to search for food before the darkness came; and then I
lay down to rest without venturing to light a fire.
I remember well that, at the time, I was surprised that I did not find
myself oppressed by the almost overwhelming sense of loneliness that
hitherto had always come upon me when I journeyed by myself in the midst
of the silent woods. But, now that I am old, and have thought much upon
many things, I have an explanation--howbeit somewhat mystical--to
account for the happiness I then experienced. I knew that I was near my
friend.
I was fortified by memory. Thus it was with me. And more than that;
for it looked as if I was to give a helping hand to the great strong man
whom I had seen first upon the Sussex coast, who had told me of the
hooded crows, and to whose tales of travel I had listened eagerly, day
after day, before ever Amos Baverstock and the like of him had stepped
across my path. I would find the Tomb--upon that I was determined. And
I would find Bannister as well. Perhaps he was sleeping, even then, not
two hundred yards away from me, in that tangled, tropic wilderness.
With so pleasant a reflection I fell sound asleep, and slept until
daylight wakened me and the birds and monkeys were stirring in the
trees.
I walked many miles that day, looking everywhere in vain for some tree
or stream that I should recognise, for the burnt-out embers of an old
camp-fire or the feathers of some bird that I myself had plucked and
eaten. But I found nothing, until late in the afternoon, when I came,
of a sudden, upon the dried-up skin of a small woodland deer.
There also were his bones, dried and whitened, all the flesh therefrom
devoured by creeping insects. And, thinking it more than likely that
this was the same deer that had served me for many a meal, when I first
was come into the Wood--the same poor beast that had been crushed to
death by the great serpent that had lain in hiding beneath the water of
the pool--I cast about me, and soon found the Glade of Silent Death. And
now, I knew, I was on the right track to the Tomb, which from this place
lay towards the south; for I had a first-hand knowledge of all this
portion of the Wood, where I had sojourned for many days.
Then an idea came to me whereby valuable time might be saved. I was not
far from the edge of the Wood, and if I could gain this before the
darkness came I might travel some distance southward by night, to
continue my searching in the morning. Keeping, therefore, the setting
sun at my back, I journeyed eastward, and came presently to open
country, when I travelled a good two miles to the south by the light of
the rising moon.
Late at night I rested, sleeping till daybreak; and then, entering the
Wood again, I found by chance one of my old camping-places, and
following my old trail for several hours came at last--as I
expected--upon the Tomb of Orellano's soldier.
As it was then almost dark, I hastened immediately to the Tomb, and
threw back the stone slab. There was light enough for me to see at a
glance that nothing had been touched. There were the white bones, the
breast-plate, sword and helmet--exactly as I had left them. I stood
irresolute a moment, looking down into the grave; and all at once, a
great fear possessed me that some calamity had overtaken Bannister.
I was here in advance of both him and Amos--which was more than I had
ever hoped for. The next thing to decide was what to do, and--as will
be seen, in a moment--I was given no choice in the matter.
Fear spreads, I think, like fire. I was solicitous, at first, for
Bannister; and then I feared for myself. Or there may be something in
the notion that the evil that is in a man taints the very atmosphere in
which he moves. At any rate, even as I thought of Amos Baverstock, I
became filled, on a sudden, with my old dread of him. I stood
shivering, as if from cold, beneath the trees, by the side of that
ancient grave, whilst the darkness spread around me.
And then it was that the voice of Amos Baverstock himself came to my
ears with such startling suddenness that I was taken unawares. It was
just as if I had received some kind of electric shock. I straightened
with a jerk, and I verily believe that my heart itself stood still.
I had not been able to hear the exact words he used; but I knew only too
well the hard, strident tones of his voice. I think he called upon
Joshua Trust to make haste and not to lag behind, and the language that
he used was vile as always.
I stood where I was, stock-still, like one transfixed. And then I heard
the breaking of the undergrowth, as someone rapidly approached.
I felt much as a mouse must feel, when the trapdoor closes after him. I
was spurred into sudden action. And yet there was nothing I could do.
If I rushed into the thickets, my enemies must hear me. And what chance
had my blow-pipe against a leaden bullet? I looked up at the trees
around me, and saw at once that there was not one that I could climb
without a deal of trouble. And yet, Amos himself was coming nearer and
nearer, as I could tell by the breaking of the underwoods and the dead
sticks upon the ground. On a sudden, without a thought, I jumped down
into the Tomb, and pulled the stone slab into its place above me.
It is easy to say that this was the action of a fool. I attempt no more
than to relate what happened. That no man in a calm moment would have
done anything so rash and stupid, I would never for a moment deny. I
was, however, very far from calm. If the truth be told, I was afraid.
I hid my face like an ostrich--for that is all it comes to.
And as soon as I found myself lying at full length upon those white and
aged bones in the darkness of the grave, I realised that I was
lost--that it had been far better for me had I fled into the jungle.
Amos himself must shift the slab to search the Tomb for the map that he
believed he would find within.
And presently, through the opening in the slab, I heard, with a
distinctness that was indeed alarming, the voice of the man himself.
"It is here!" he cried. "We've found it, as I said we would!"
From the certain fact that no one answered him, I judged that Baverstock
was alone; and I was the more sure of this, since I could hear the
footsteps of but a single man upon the thin stone above me. And I began
to reckon what my chances would amount to, if it came to a square fight
between the two of us, with no one to intervene.
Then I remembered that I was unarmed; for I had left my blow-pipe above
ground, though the chances were that it was now so dark that he might
not notice it. By the noise he made, his grunting and his muttered
oaths, I judged that he was searching for the means to lift the slab.
I touched the stone above me with my fingers; and when I felt it moving,
I knew that the hour of my ordeal was come. I must fight and defend
myself, or die--and very likely both. I rose as the stone was lifted,
and, as I did so, placed the Spaniard's helmet on my head and took up
the rusted sword.
Amos threw aside the slab, and then jumped backward, as I stood up in
the grave, waist-deep in mother earth.
It was that half-light which is neither night nor day--a weird and
ghostly light, pervading like a mist the shadows of the Wood. Small
wonder that that evil man thought that he beheld the resurrection of a
corpse!
He let out a shriek--such a shriek as I never heard before or
since--that seemed as if it must have been audible for miles throughout
the evening silence of the jungle. It was the shriek of one whose hair
stands upright on his head. He stood before me quaking at the knees;
and then he found his voice again.
"Mercy!" he cried.
And at that I rushed upon him with my sword.