THE SUBTERRANEAN TUNNEL.
Whether George understood me I could not tell; he made some reply, but
my increasing deafness rendered his words inaudible, I shouted again,
and told him of the iron steps I had discovered; and this time he must
have heard, for he waved his hand. He disappeared, but after a few
moments I saw him again.
"Catch the end of this rope, and make it fast if you can," he roared.
Twice he threw, and I heard the coil of rope whistle in the rocky
shaft, but it did not reach my hand; then the third time I grabbed it,
and to make doubly sure, I fastened it to two of the iron steps, in
case one should not prove equal to the strain of George's weight.
Woodley was an active fellow. He swung on the rope first, to make
certain that it would bear him, and then commenced to climb. In less
than two minutes he was by my side.
"Well, this is a queer place," he remarked, as he crouched by me in the
subterranean tunnel. "Those iron steps weren't put there for nothing;
somebody must have used them for going up and down."
"I wonder where this passage goes?" I said. "Perhaps it's part of a
disused mine."
"There never was no mine along here that I know of," answered my
companion. "The air seems fresh. The only thing is to go along and
see where it leads. Be careful, Master Eden; there may be a nasty drop
somewhere."
Slowly and cautiously, in the inky darkness, we crept along, at each
step making sure of the ground in front of us before we advanced
further. The path appeared to make a very gradual slope upwards. We
must have gone quite twenty yards, which, owing to our slow progress,
seemed treble that distance, and we were beginning to exult in the
thought of speedily obtaining our freedom, when there was an
exclamation from George, and the next moment we found ourselves brought
up short by a bank of earth which completely blocked the passage. Even
in the darkness it was not difficult to realize what had happened.
"The roof has fallen in," said Woodley shortly, but the catch in his
voice betrayed his bitter disappointment.
There was no help for it--the tunnel was blocked; and in utter
weariness we sat down on the rocky floor to rest.
"Well, we're better off here than where we were last night," said
George. "We shouldn't live many more hours down below, for I believe
the storm's getting worse."
"I wonder what this passage was for?" I remarked, after a few moments'
silence. "D'you suppose the smugglers used it for anything?"
"No," answered George. "If the smugglers made it, then old Lewis would
have known of its existence, and he'd have tried to escape this way
instead of risking his life in that boat."
"He did say something," I exclaimed, suddenly remembering the last
words I had heard from the old salt. "I didn't suppose they had any
meaning at the time, for I thought he was drunk. Wait a moment, and
I'll tell you exactly what they were. He said, 'You'll find it
yourself if you look about. I'm the only one as knows.'"
"Then he must have known," said George, "but he didn't want those
convict chaps to find out. Perhaps it's a secret among the 'free
traders,' or perhaps it's a fact that the old chap was really the only
person who knew. I've heard him say that he was a rare climber when he
was younger, and had got to places on the cliffs where no one else had
ever been. Well, sir, there's a bit of cheese and two apples wedged in
that crack of the rock. I'd better go down and fetch them before the
tide rises; they'll at least keep life in us for a couple of days."
Slowly we retraced our steps, taking great care lest we should arrive
at the opening of the shaft before we knew where we were, and fall
through it on to the platform beneath. With the sea rising, there
seemed as small a chance as ever that we should get out of the cave
alive; but we were, at all events, spared the terrible fate which that
morning had seemed inevitable. Woodley descended to the cavern, and
having rolled up the two apples and the cheese in his coat, he made
fast the bundle to the end of the rope, and I hauled it up. He was in
the act of following, and had nearly reached the mouth of the shaft,
when I saw him pause and, hanging on the rope with one hand, take
something off a ledge with the other.
"What d'you think I've found?" he said, as he joined me again in the
tunnel. "Why, that pistol Rodwood left behind. I put it right up
there out of harm's way. The little crevice is dry and sheltered, and
a good bit above the reach of the waves, so I don't doubt but what the
charge will explode all right if it's fired. It don't seem much good
to us at present, but it might come in useful to make a signal and
attract attention if we could manage to get to the mouth of the cave
and sight a passing ship or boat. There!" he continued, as we once
more sat down at the end of the passage, and he unrolled our meagre
stores from his coat; "that's all we've got in the world, barring the
water that trickles down the rock below, and a bottle of sweet oil I've
got in my pocket, which my missis asked me to bring her from the
chemist's at Welmington. Poor girl! she's wondering what's become of
it, and of me, too, by now, I expect. And the stuff isn't much good to
us, I fancy. I wish the bottle had been filled with some of that
brandy those rascals wasted; we shall be likely to need something of
the sort before long, if we haven't wanted it already."
Although the tunnel was blocked, a cold draught from the cave below
seemed to be always blowing through it, every now and again coming in
stronger gusts as the storm increased. The darkness was so intense
that I already felt it oppressive, and thought that after a time it
would become positively unbearable.
"I wonder if the smugglers ever come here now," I said. "They might
perhaps know of the place, and use it as a hiding-place for their
goods."
With this notion in my mind I went down on my hands and knees, and felt
about in order to find anything which might prove that the tunnel had
been visited at one time or another by the "free traders." But though
I spent some time in groping about in this manner, I picked up nothing
but a few fragments of rock. Then I remembered Lewis's words, and how
he had distinctly stated that he was "the only one that knows." He had
no doubt been led by some accident to discover the shaft and the
passage, and had thought fit to keep the knowledge to himself, perhaps
intending to make good use of it when any special need should arise for
a place of concealment, either for men or "goods."
I sat down again by Woodley, and passing my hand over my clothes to
find if they were drying at all, I felt something hard in my inside
coat pocket. Wondering vaguely what it could be, I unbuttoned my
jacket, and while doing so remembered suddenly the metal tinder-box I
had found in the empty desk the day before I left school. I took it
out, fumbled with my fingers till I found the flint and steel, and--I
suppose for the sake of seeing a ray of light, however tiny and
momentary--I struck a spark. I hardly think if I had fired a gun it
could have produced a more unexpected effect on Woodley. He sprang to
his feet with something like a shout of surprise.
"What's that?" he cried. "A tinder-box! Where did you find it? I
made sure Rodwood had taken it with him in his pocket."
"This is another," I answered; "it's one I found at school. The lid
fits well, and has kept out the damp, I fancy."
"Bless the boy!" cried George, "why didn't you tell me you had it
before? I've been wishing and wishing for one this last hour or more."
"It's precious little good now that you have got it," I replied,
handing him the box in the darkness. "We've got nothing to light
except the tinder and matches, and that's no practical use."
"Wait a bit," interrupted the guard. "We'll make a lamp. This bottle
of oil I've got in my pocket will provide stuff to burn, and a strand
of worsted out of one of my socks will make a wick. Hurrah, Master
Eden! we'll get a light burning presently, and find out what sort of a
place we're in."
"I don't see how you're going to make a lamp," I answered, "unless you
hold the oil in the palm of your hand. We've got nothing left--not
even that metal cup the men took from poor Tom's flask."
The question was a difficult one to answer. Reduced to the possession
of practically nothing but the clothes we wore, it seemed at first
impossible to manufacture any implement or vessel, however simple. But
necessity is the mother of invention, and certainly the necessity in
our case was sufficiently pressing to quicken any inventive faculties
we might possess.
After some minutes' thought, and the making of one or two suggestions
which had to be abandoned as impracticable, my companion slapped his
thigh, exclaiming,--
"I've got it--my old watch!"
With the aid of his knife George managed to remove the works from the
old-fashioned turnip-shaped silver case, which was so commonly seen in
those days. This formed a sort of cup to hold the oil, which was
supplied with a sort of floating wick made of a thread of worsted and a
tiny bit of wood, to obtain which we were obliged to descend the iron
steps, and bring up the fragment of broken plank from the bottom of the
shaft. It was hardly possible that the tiny flame could be kept long
alight if exposed to the strong draught which swept through the tunnel;
but with a piece of leather cut from the top of his boot, and the big
bull's-eye glass of the watch, Woodley managed to fashion a rough but
effective shade, and at length the lamp was pronounced ready for use.
If we had been a couple of boys about to let off a big sky-rocket, we
could hardly have felt more excited as we struck the flint, blew up the
spark in the tinder, and ignited first the sulphur match and then the
tiny wick. The result was poor enough, but the lamp certainly did
burn, giving out perhaps as much light as a modern night-light. To us,
however, after having been so long in total darkness, it seemed quite
brilliant; and with its aid there was at all events a possibility of
our being able to examine our surroundings.
A part of the passage had evidently been cut through the solid rock,
but farther along the roof was of earth, and had been propped up with
wooden supports. It was owing to the fact that some of these, no doubt
rotten with age, had given way, that the fall had occurred which formed
the block against which we had been brought up short. We at once
proceeded to examine this obstruction, and had hardly turned our light
upon it before we made an important discovery. The fall had not been
of sufficient volume to quite block the tunnel; there was a narrow
opening still at the top of the heap of _debris_, but not wide enough,
as we could see at a glance, to admit of the passage of a human being.
"Hurrah!" cried the guard. "D'you see that, sir? We'll soon scratch a
hole there big enough to crawl through, or my name ain't George
Woodley."
"I'm afraid if you do it won't be much good," I answered. "If the roof
has fallen here, it's almost sure to have fallen again further on in
several places, before the tunnel comes to the surface. This shows
that no one has been along it for some time."
We turned away, and examined the rest of the passage as far as the top
of the shaft; but only one thing did we find, and that was an empty
bottle stowed away in a hole in the rock. It was a queer, misshapen
old thing, which had, perhaps, held good liquor in its time, but
evidently belonged to a by-gone age. Worthless as it might have
appeared under ordinary circumstances, to us it proved a valuable find;
and George offered at once to go down and fill it with water from the
cave below. The discovery and the suggestion were both made none too
soon. Another half-hour and it would have been impossible, for both
wind and tide were rising; the big waves were already breaking into the
entrance of the cavern with a booming roar, and the boiling surf swept
clean over the platform just as George was re-ascending the rope.
I was a strong, healthy boy, but the long hours of cold, terror, and
semi-starvation were beginning to tell. I felt weak and feverish, my
skin was dry and parched, yet the chill from my sodden clothes seemed
still to strike right through into my very bones. With the aid of his
knife George fashioned the fragment of plank into something resembling
a short spade; then scrambling up the bank of earth, he began to dig
with the intention of enlarging the existing hole till it should be big
enough for us to crawl through. With burning eyes and chattering teeth
I stood below, and assisted as best I could by dragging away the loose
earth with my hands. What with my deafness, and with the roar of the
sea in the cavern below, I could not hear a word he said, though he did
not waste much time in talking.
Our fate must have been decided long before this if we had not found
means of ascending the shaft to our present position. The storm had
increased in fury, and we could tell each time a big wave swept into
the cavern, by the rush of air which came whistling up the shaft and
swept in a briny blast along the passage. Suddenly George stopped
working, and I saw the dark outline of his figure motionless in the
feeble ray of the little lamp.
"What's the matter?" I cried.
He made no reply, but raised his hand as a person would in the act of
listening. For half a minute he remained in that position, then
resumed his digging. In a very short time, however, he stopped again,
and after an instant's pause startled me by leaning forward and
shouting at the top of his voice through the hole,--
"Hollo, there!"
Receiving apparently no reply to his hail, he turned and beckoned me to
climb up by his side.
"Can you hear anything, Master Eden?" he asked.
I listened intently, but no sound caught my ear but the muffled surge
and splash of the water in the cavern.
"There!" exclaimed my companion--"there again! Don't you hear it?"
Still to my dulled hearing no fresh sound was audible.
"What was it?" I asked.
Without answering my question, he once more roared, "Hollo, there!"
through the widened hole, and remained with warning hand uplifted, as
though expecting an answering shout. "Fancy, I suppose," he muttered
at length. "Yet that blind fellow heard something of the sort too.
Tut! I think I'm going queer in my head."
He went on digging, but once or twice I noticed that he paused in the
same curious manner. I was too weary to pay much attention, but
continued laboriously scooping and dragging the earth he loosened till
my fingers seemed raw. At length Woodley stopped digging, and sat down
for a rest. As he moved the lamp the dim oil flame gave me a momentary
glimpse of his face, and on it I thought I detected a queer expression
which I had never noticed there before.
For ten minutes, perhaps, he sat regaining his breath, and saying
nothing; then turning to me he asked abruptly,--
"Master Eden, do you believe there's such things as ghosts?"
"No," I answered blankly, astonished at the question. A terrible
thought flashed through my mind that, as a last crowning horror,
Woodley was actually going out of his mind. "No," I repeated in a
faltering tone, "I don't believe in ghosts."
"Neither do I, then," said George; and picking up his wooden spade, he
went on digging.