IN DESPERATE STRAITS.
Dazed by the sudden alarm, I lay for a moment hardly knowing where I
was; then another lash of icy cold water across my face brought me to
my senses, and I sprang to my feet.
Never shall I forget those terrible moments as we stood in pitchy
darkness, relieved only by the faint, uncanny, phosphorescent light of
the sea-water. The thudding boom of a big wave striking against the
cliff and bursting in through the narrow archway, then the peculiar
hollow sound the water made as it rushed along the cavern, and the
fierce splash with which it expended its force against our
platform--all are sounds which seem to echo in my ears even now as I
write.
"The wind's come at last!" shouted George, and added something further
which I could not catch.
"We're safe here," I answered at the top of my voice.
"I've no idea what the time is," he replied; "but I don't believe it's
high water yet--the tide's still rising."
For just a few moments I think even brave George Woodley was
panic-stricken at our hazardous situation, and his words added a fresh
terror to the darkness. If the tide was still flowing, then it was
only a matter of waiting till we should be washed away and drowned.
There was apparently nothing to be done but to take up our position as
far back as the width of our platform would allow, and so remain till
our fate was decided.
The air was full of a fine drenching mist, but as yet only the broken
spray from the waves had reached us. Trembling with cold and terror I
stood, hoping against hope that the tide had reached its height or
begun to ebb; then suddenly a larger sea than had hitherto entered the
cavern swept clean over our place of refuge, the rushing surf whirling
and hissing round our feet like a thousand serpents. The water had not
taken us much above the ankles, but in that awful darkness I imagined
for a moment that the end had already come, and clung to George with a
cry of alarm.
"We must climb higher, Master Eden," yelled Woodley, his words, though
shouted in my ear, almost drowned in the rush of the back-wash. "We
must climb the rock; there's a ledge above us, if we can only get to
it."
The words had hardly been uttered when, as though to enforce the
necessity of his suggestion, another deluge of foaming surf swept over
the rock, and I heard a clattering, bumping noise, the woeful
significance of which I did not realize at the moment. Groping with
our hands over the surface of the cold, slippery stone, and yelling
directions to each other, though our heads were not two feet apart, we
climbed precariously from one foothold to another till we reached a
ledge some five or six feet above the level on which we had hitherto
been standing. This was as far as we could get, for above us the end
wall of the cave rose precipitously, as though the rock had been hewn
to stand the test of line and plummet.
Weary, wet, and chilled to the bone, in such a miserable condition I
think I would hardly have troubled to avoid a speedy ending to all my
misfortunes if death had presented itself in a less terrible form. But
the fearful churning of that wild water was sufficiently appalling to
cause one to cling with frenzied earnestness to any position of safety;
for to be drawn down into that raging tumult was as dreadful to
contemplate as being flung bodily into some enormous piece of whirling
machinery, to be ground and dashed out of all human shape by a force as
pitiless as it was overwhelming.
Higher and higher rose the tide. Now our platform was completely
awash, and the seas, dashing against the end of the cavern, leaped up
like hungry wolves, and soaked afresh our already sodden clothes with
icy water. Thrown back in echoes from the arched roof of the cave, the
noise of the sea was probably magnified tenfold, and in the darkness
was terrifying to hear, while the compressed air rushed through the
opening above us with a long, whistling sigh. The wonder seems to me
that the pair of us did not lose our reason. Happily for us, in those
days folks were evidently made of tougher material, both as regards
muscle and nerve, else I could hardly have survived the exposure of
that night, let alone its long agony of suspense. As it was, I had
come about to the end of my tether; and had it not been for Woodley, I
should never have survived to write the present story. There came a
boom louder than we had heard before. I seemed to feel that mighty
mass of broken water sweeping towards us through the gloom. Then with
a crash it burst over the lower ledge, and rose level with our armpits.
I felt my numbed fingers relaxing their hold, and with a wild,
despairing cry was slipping from my place, when Woodley seized me with
one arm round the waist as the water subsided with a deafening roar.
That sea, I believe, was the largest which swept through the cave, and
shortly after this the tide must have commenced to ebb; but of what
happened next I had positively no remembrance, nor, strange to say, had
George. Whether he held on to me after I lost consciousness, or
whether we both continued to cling with a blind instinct of
self-preservation to our ledge when our overtaxed brains had become
oblivious to our surroundings, I cannot tell. How we maintained our
foothold through the succeeding hours of darkness is a mystery. The
next recollection I have is of finding myself lying on my side on the
platform, staring blankly at the tossing surf as it rushed through the
distant arch of rock in the gray light of morning.
The sea was rough, and a strong wind was blowing; but terrible as it
had seemed at high water and in the darkness of night, it could not
have been more than what seamen term half a gale, or we must certainly
have been swept away and drowned.
I was so numbed that it was with great difficulty I could move my
stiffened limbs and stagger to my feet; and when George spoke to me I
discovered that I was nearly deaf--a result probably due to aggravation
of the cold from which I had previously been suffering. What sort of
an object I myself presented I have no means of telling, but when I
looked at George I was shocked at his woebegone appearance. His face
was haggard and pinched with cold, and something of that long night of
terror seemed to remain in the wild glitter of his eyes. His cap was
lost, and his sodden and dishevelled clothing hung about him like rags.
Becoming aware of the fact that I was looking at him, he pointed,
mutely with his finger. I saw in a moment what he meant; and if it had
been possible for hope and courage to sink lower in my breast, they
would surely have done so then. The sea had made a clean sweep of the
rocky platform, and the raft was gone!
Save one piece of splintered board, which the waves had wedged into a
fissure of the rock, not a fragment of wood remained in our possession;
and not only had the wreckage been washed away from the spot where we
had stored it, but the retreating tide, and some change in the
currents, seemed to have carried it once more out to sea. I had
reached a condition of despair and misery far beyond that which can
find relief in tears; I could only stare in a dull, stupefied fashion
at the empty space of cold, wet rock.
Woodley said something, but I could not catch his words.
"Speak louder," I answered, in a voice as hoarse as a crow's. "I can't
hear; I believe I'm going deaf."
"All the timber's gone--every inch," cried George, coming nearer.
"I've been having a look round, and there's nothing left but a lump of
cheese and a bundle of rope what's up there in the 'cupboard.' I'm
afraid we've played our last card, Master Eden."
I knew what he meant. If the sea continued rough, as there was every
probability of its doing, we should never be able to hold out a second
time when the tide rose and once more flooded our refuge. The misery
and mental anguish through which we had passed had, I think, gone far
to rob us both of the fear of death; but the form in which it appeared
was terrible to contemplate, and the longing for life still throbbed
fiercely in our breasts.
I said nothing; but feeling the water squelching in my boots, I emptied
them, and then began stamping my icy feet in order to restore the
circulation. Was there no hope? Must we remain like condemned
criminals watching the angry water slowly rising till it claimed its
prey? Of escape there seemed no possible chance, but in the anguish of
our desolate condition I prayed fervently to God for fortitude and
consolation to support us in our last hours.
Making cups of our hands, we drank from the trickling water as we ate
our cheese. We had little to say to each other; even George seemed to
have abandoned hope, and to be nerving himself up, that when the time
came he might make a brave ending and encourage me to do the same.
"It seems months since I took you up at the Sportsman, Master Eden," he
said, after a long silence. "Ah me! you little expected you was
starting on such a queer journey."
He spoke in so kind and gentle a manner that I knew instinctively his
thoughts and regrets were more for me than for himself. Somehow his
tone, and the memories which his words awakened of the many times I had
clambered up beside him on those happy days when I had returned to the
home and dear ones I should never see again, broke me down; and rising
hastily, I went forward to the edge of the platform and stood there,
vainly endeavouring to stifle my sobs. I was but a boy, and am not
ashamed now to remember those emotions.
I must have stood like this for some time, when I heard George call me;
and looking round, I saw him standing gazing up at the roof of the
cavern above his head.
"Master Eden, come here a minute, sir," he said.
I turned on my heel and obeyed, wondering what he wanted.
"Look here, sir," he continued, as I reached his side. "D'you see that
hole up above there? I wonder how far it goes."
The roof of the cave was almost lost to view in sombre shadows; but as
I have already mentioned, our eyes had become sufficiently accustomed
to the gloom to make out the existence of a curious hole or fissure in
the rock, which resembled nothing so much as a wide old-fashioned
chimney, and this resemblance was strengthened by the fact that one
side of it was level with the end wall of the cavern. More than this
we could not tell, an oblong patch of blackness being all that could be
seen from where we stood.
"I believe it goes up some way," continued George. "I noticed that the
smoke from the fire all went up it, and didn't hang about in the roof
yonder; and last night I heard the wind rushing through the opening
when the big waves burst into the cavern."
"There are plenty of funny holes worn in the rook along this coast," I
replied. "It may go up for a few feet, but there's no chance of its
leading out to the top of the cliff."
"No, I don't suppose it would," answered my companion; "but what I've
been thinking is, that perhaps it may turn a bit, and so form a ledge
where we might take refuge out of reach of the waves."
"But it's out of our reach," I answered, almost petulantly. "We can't
climb up the side of a flat rock like flies up a window-pane."
George did not reply for a moment, but remained staring upwards with
his head thrown back as far as it would go.
"I believe," he continued, "that if we climbed up to the ledge we were
on last night, and I hoisted you on to my shoulders, you might get a
foothold still higher up on that shelf. Then there's a crack just
below the opening, and if you stuck that piece of plank that's left in
the rift, it would make another step, and bring you practically right
into the hole. I suppose you've never climbed a chimney, Master Eden;
but if you could do as the climbing boys do, work yourself up with your
back against one side and your knees against the other, you might see
how far it goes. I'll stand below and catch you if you fall."
By the "Foxes" I was accounted one of the best climbers of the tribe,
and had a steady head; but I own I was not taken with the guard's
proposal. The jagged rock on which we stood was hard and cruel, and it
seemed impossible to ascend and descend the shaft without a tumble.
"How about yourself?" I objected. "If I do find a ledge up there,
you'll have to stay down below; we can't both stand on each other's
shoulders at the same time, and that's necessary for making the start."
"There's that rope, sir," was the reply. "You might find a way of
making one end fast; and if so, I'd soon be up after you."
There was a pause.
"It's our only chance, sir," said George. "There's no knowing but what
it might save the two of us."
That last remark fired my resolution: it was for him as well as for
myself that the attempt was to be made. He had certainly saved my
life, and by all the laws of justice and honour I owed him a like
return, if such a thing were possible.
"All right," I cried; "I'll try it--now, at once!"
With some difficulty we wrenched the piece of splintered plank from the
cranny into which one end had been forced by the sea, after which we
scrambled up the ledge on which we had passed those awful hours of
darkness. Everywhere the rock was wet and slippery from the drenching
it had received during the storm. I felt George's foot slide as I
clambered up on to his shoulders, and a horrid feeling of faintness
seized me, for I was then high enough to have broken my neck if we had
fallen. With dogged determination to get as far as I could, I planted
my foot on the narrow shelf which my companion had indicated; and
receiving the piece of plank which he handed up, I thrust it into the
crack some two feet higher up, and almost in what might be called the
mouth of the chimney. Fortunately this crevice was just wide enough to
admit the wood a sufficient distance to make it secure; another step
upwards, and as I made it my head struck sharply against something
projecting from the side of the hole. It was evidently an iron bar
bent round in a semicircle, with both ends embedded firmly in the rock.
The surface was eaten with rust, but pull and tug at it as I would, it
showed no signs of giving. Rising carefully to my full height, I found
another piece of iron exactly similar to the first some little way
above; then suddenly it occurred to my mind that they had been put
there to serve as steps, as I had once seen similar irons placed in a
new chimney-stack at Castlefield. Hesitating no longer, I mounted from
one to another, until I must have climbed a dozen; then feeling with my
hand in the darkness, I discovered an open space, evidently the mouth
of some subterranean tunnel.
Far beneath me I could just make out the pale shadow of my companion's
upturned face as he gazed anxiously into the gloom, wondering, no
doubt, what had become of me.
"George! George!" I yelled excitedly, "I've found the entrance of a
passage. Come up quick, and see for yourself. I believe we're saved!"