A DREADED VISITOR
What it was that happened when he felt the waters swiftly rising all
about him Grenville could never have told. He was almost certain his
foot had come in contact with a heavy, pulpy surface, like a wet thing
made of rubber, as he did his utmost to strike his assailant with his
heel.
He could only be certain that he seemed to plunge downward
interminably, and that afterwards a horrible rush of waters, lashed to
violence, was sounding wildly in his ears and confusing his staring
eyes.
Then he came to the top with a sickening conviction, that one of his
legs would be gone almost before he could feel the incisions of the
teeth where the shark was closing upon it. He lurched tremendously
forward in the water, to close the short but vital gap between himself
and the ladder.
It seemed to him then a nightmare must be binding his limbs to
inaction--that incredible time was elapsing while he still remained in
the tide. As a matter of fact, he had moved with prodigious energy,
his strokes and velocity through the water phenomenally swift. And,
when he caught at the lowermost rung, he shot from the depths like some
weirdly living projectile, doubled up in a knot by its speed.
For his knees were drawn sharply upward, and hand over hand he scaled
up his swaying support. But his ears heard the hiss where that
terrible fin was cutting the waves beneath him. One quick glance he
sped to the place comprehended the turning monster's belly, the open
mouth, and even the hideous nose that shot beneath his very foot like
the point of a speeding torpedo.
To the round above he scrambled no less galvanically--only to feel a
sudden giving of the ladder. A wild conviction of the structure's
insecurity above--its giving way beneath the incautious strain he had
unavoidably put upon it--scorched its way into his brain, while he
still looked down upon the shark.
But that one slip ended as abruptly as it had come. It was all in the
rung he had clutched in desperate violence, and not in the ladder
itself. Elaine's rock anchorage was firm!
A swift and weakening reaction now ensued in all his being, as he clung
there, dripping but safe. He leaned on the ladder-rung heavily, to
regain his breath and strength. He was panting and all but exhausted
for the moment. When at length he resumed the upward climb, the shark
was no longer to be seen.
He paused a bit longer on the shelving ledge above to gather his wits
in proper order.
"Sidney!" he heard. "Are you coming? Are you there?"
"Well, rather!" he called out, cheerily. "Stopped like a kid
to--examine the geological formation." He started upward promptly,
whistling as he went.
It was not, however, without a tremendous effort that he finally pulled
himself over the brink, in all the weight of his soaking garments, and
struggled to his feet.
"Why--you're wet!" said Elaine, concealing her hands, which were cut
and bruised from the heavy stones she had carried. "Did you have to
swim to get the ladder?"
He knew her hands were hurt, but maintained his usual manner.
"I did. But the water is warm--in fact, it was very warm, indeed."
"But couldn't you use the raft?"
"I couldn't," he answered, candidly. "The raft got away while I was
pothering about, and, unless it faithfully floats ashore, we may never
see its honest face again."
Elaine's expression brightened.
"I'm perfectly delighted to hear it! Now you never can go there again!"
Grenville was amused at the turn of her reflections.
"But what about the treasure in the crypt?"
"I don't believe there's any treasure in the crypt. There never is,
except in wonderful stories. And, if there was, what good could it be
to us?"
Grenville met her magnetic gaze, now brightened by her challenge. It
was not a time to excite new alarms in her heart by divulging the facts
he had discovered. For she would be alarmed were she once informed of
the wealth concealed beneath their feet. She would instantly
understand the dangers to them both from the men who had hidden the
treasure.
"Well," he said, with an air of lightness he was very far from feeling,
"I confess I'd rather have a good pot of steaming black coffee at this
particular juncture than all the gold and jewels of the land."
"Oh, please don't mention it!" said Elaine. "Haven't I tried every
leaf I could find, to make you something to drink?" And a wistful
pucker came to her brow that made her more than ever enchanting.
"You've no idea," she added, "what horrid messes this island foliage
can make."
"Wouldn't wonder," said Grenville, calmly. But, having come to the
shaded cave, he was grateful for a drink of cool, sweet water and glad
to sit down for a rest.
The subject of the cave was dropped, but his thoughts could not fade in
Grenville's mind. They lay in substrata, beneath more homely plans for
resuming his interrupted labors. But, beyond going down to dig some
yams to roast with a pheasant killed the previous day, he returned to
no toils that afternoon. He paused to examine the shell of his boat,
which fire, plus his chisel, was finally evolving from the log, and,
finding unusual quantities of blackly charred stuff to be gouged away
in the morning, determined to be early at the task.
This plan was one of the sort that "gang aglee." He fished, with
Elaine, till nine o'clock the following day, to provide a needful
change of their diet; then placed some fresh signals on their flagpole.
At eleven, however, he was once more at his boat, with his fires
freshly blazing. He was working gayly, aroused to a new enthusiasm
over final results to be achieved by the excellent progress his former
fires had made upon the log. A few more days of work like that--and he
would have to be thinking of the launching.
This was not a thought he had neglected. In a vague sort of way the
problem of moving his boat to the water's edge had bothered him from
the first. It would have to be run on rollers, he admitted. Doubtless
a way would have to be cleared through some of the undergrowth.
Reflecting that this was a task to be performed while the fires were
doing their daily stint, he made a preliminary survey of the jungle to
select the most practical route. The way across the grassy clearing
was not only long, but in places inclined to be rough. Fortunately, in
either direction the way was all down-grade.
He had never yet forced a way to the shore through the jungle beyond
his tree-trunk smelter. Thither he wended his way to note what this
route might offer.
Breaking the branches from before his path, and rather inclined to
believe a trail might once have been forced through the thicket, he was
penetrating deeper and deeper into the moist and thickly shaded region
when he presently halted, almost certain he had heard someone calling
his name.
"Sidney! Sidney!" came the cry again, from Elaine up above him on the
cliff. "Sidney! Where are you? A boat! I've seen a sail! There's
someone coming at last!"
He had smashed his way out while she was calling.
"A sail!" she repeated, excitedly, the moment he appeared. "Oh,
come!--please come at once!"
She disappeared swiftly from the edge, running back, lest the sight be
lost forever.
Actively, Grenville went bounding across the clearing and up their
narrow trail. He was panting and eager when Elaine ran forward to meet
him, and clutched him by the arm.
"I knew it would come!--I knew it!" she cried, as she hastened hotly
forward at his side. "We must wave things as hard as we can!"
She had guided him swiftly to the great lone tree that stood like the
island's landmark, to be seen for many a mile. She pointed in triumph
afar across the sea--and Grenville beheld a tiny sail, like the merest
white notch in the sky.
"Can they see us yet? Shall we wave?" said Elaine. "They couldn't go
by and miss us now?"
She was still clinging fast to Grenville's arm, and tears had sprung to
her eyes. What long, long hours of torture, anxiety, and hope she had
expended, uttering no complaint as the days went by, the man abruptly
knew. Then something indescribably poignant shot boltlike through his
heart.
Elaine felt him harden, grow rigid, as his gaze narrowed down on the
distant thing she had found in their purple sea. The note that broke
from his lips at last made a shiver go down her spine.
He suddenly turned, and his arm was wrenched from her clasp. He sped
like a madman back to their mast and heaved all his weight against it.
He threw back the rocks that held it in place in the crevice to which
it had been fitted.
Before she could follow, to question what he did, Elaine saw him drop
the pole over.
"Sidney!" she said, but the face that he turned wore a look that was
new to her ken.
"Pull up the ladder from the rocks!" he called. "Then go to the
shelter and stay!"
He himself ran to the cavern, to take up their largest jug of water.
With this in his arms, he hastened down the trail to quench the flames
beneath his boat.
And when, with more water, hurried from the spring, he had drowned the
last blue wisp of smoke, he brought the full jug to the cave again and
tore down the improvised awning.
"We had better hail death than that craft!" he said, "unless I am very
much mistaken!"