=The First Evening.=
In the south-east trades, and the big ship moving steadily through the
water with every sail full. Not a quiver of the tightly-strained
canvas, not the rattle of a reef-point, broke the stillness aloft.
A glorious evening in the South Atlantic, with the sun setting, as is
often his wont in those latitudes, in a bed of crimson, gold and
amethyst. The passengers, who had been watching the many-hued passing
of the day-king, went below as the cool night breeze began to whistle
with a shriller note through the top-hamper and the water to swish
more loudly along the sides, and fall back with a louder plop. Very
comfortable, snug, and home-like the _Corona’s_ cabin looked. It was a
cabin, remember, not a ‘saloon.’
There was nothing of the modern curse of varnish and veneer about it.
Everything was handsome, also substantial, from the dark mahogany
casing of the mizzen-mast to the highly polished, solid panelling of
rosewood, relieved with only a narrow gold beading. The cabin might
aptly have been termed a study in brown and gold, so predominant was
this combination. Even the curtains in front of each berth door were
of brown damask, with gold fringe. The general effect, if a little
sombre, was good.
Especially good it seemed this evening to the passengers as they came
trooping in with talk and laughter; especially snug and home-like,
with its three big swinging moderator lamps, its long table covered
with odds and ends of female work, books, papers, etc., etc., its
piano, and its comfortable couches scattered here and there.
The _Corona’s_ great beam had been utilised to some purpose, and,
thus, her cabin was not, like the saloons of so many sailing ships, a
sort of stage drawing-room, all white paint, gilding, glass,
spindle-shanked chairs, and turn-over-at-a-touch tables.
The company suited the cabin. There were only a dozen or so of them,
mostly middle-aged married folk, who had left their grown-up families
in Australia whilst they took a trip ‘Home,’ and were now returning to
their adopted country. Amongst them, however, were two or three single
ladies of uncertain ages, bound to the Land of the Golden Fleece in
search of fortune, even if it should only come in the shape of a
husband. There was, also, Miss Amy Hillier, an Australian heiress in
her own right, returning to her native land with an uncle and an
aunt. This is another man’s story; so that I am not going to take up
space by a description of Amy Hillier’s charms; suffice it to say here
that she was young and pretty, and as good as she was young and
pretty.
Wonderful to relate, the company of passengers fitted each other. Each
seemed to have discovered in another his or her affinity, and, up to
this, there had been none of the usual backbitings, heart-burnings,
and malicious tittle-tattle usually so inseparable from a sea voyage
in a sailing ship.
Miss Hillier had seated herself at the piano, and was playing
something from _Lohengrin_, when a remarkable-looking man, entering
the cabin, doffed his gold-banded cap, and made his way to her side.
Strongly, yet gracefully built, upright as the royal pole, active in
all his movements, one would have taken him to be scarce arrived at
middle-age, but for the fact that his thick, closely-cropped hair
shone a dead white under the lamplight. His features were regular and
good, albeit they wore, in general, a rather serious expression.
Altogether, it was a strong, pleasant face, full of energy,
confidence, and the power to command.
As he rested one hand on the corner of the instrument, it might be
noticed that, from wrist to finger tips, it was covered by the white
cicatrices of long-healed scars. In spite, however, of his grey hair
and disfigured hands, Captain Marion, of the _Corona_, Australian
liner, was called by many people a handsome man.
‘Sing me my favourite, please,’ asked the Captain presently.
‘On condition,’ was the reply, ‘that you will tell us a story in
return.’
‘It’s a bargain,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ll relate the legend of
Vanderdecken, the Flying Dutchman. Thoroughly appropriate it will be,
too, as we are just entering his domains.’
‘We don’t want to hear about the Flying Dutchman,’ answered the girl
promptly.
‘Well, then,’ continued the Captain, ‘what do you say if I tell you
how I was cast away in ’69, on the coast of—’
‘No, no, Captain Marion,’ interrupted she, smiling shyly up at him,
‘we don’t want that either.’
‘Ah, I see!’ exclaimed the Captain, after a pause, ‘a conspiracy!
Well,’ he went on, after a still longer hesitation, ‘I don’t care much
about it. The telling, I mean, of how I got this’ (touching his hair)
‘and these’ (spreading out his hands), ‘for, of course, that is what
you wish to hear. It reminds me of a time I would rather not recall.
‘No, Miss Hillier’—for the girl had risen in dismay and almost tears
at her thoughtlessness, and was attempting to apologise incoherently
enough—‘it doesn’t matter a bit. Besides, I somehow feel in the vein
for story-telling this evening; and as well that as anything else.
With some passengers, I find that I have to put a stopper on their
curiosity rather abruptly. But’ (with a grave smile and a bow to the
group) ‘it being a rare thing, indeed, to meet so well-assorted and
pleasant a party as we are this trip, I’ll spin you the yarn, such as
it is. And now, Miss Hillier, my song.’
‘What would you like—the same as usual, I suppose—“The Silent Land?”’
‘Yes,’ answered the Captain; ‘your rendering puts a new interpretation
on Salis’ words for me, and I seem to bear with me more strongly than
ever the promise, as I listen, that he
Who in life’s battle firm doth stand
Shall bear Hope’s tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land!’
* * * * *
‘It is,’ commenced Captain Marion, the song finished, and taking his
accustomed seat, whilst the others gathered round him—‘It is nearly
fourteen years ago that the strange, and what many may deem
improbable, adventure happened which I am about to relate. I was then
about twenty-two years of age, an able-bodied seaman on board a ship
called the _Bucephalus_, belonging to Liverpool. It was my first
voyage before the mast, for, although I had duly served my
apprenticeship with the firm who owned her, and also passed my exam.
as second mate, there was no vacancy just then open. They, indeed,
offered me a post as third; but, knowing that I should be none the
worse for a month or two in the fok’s’le, I preferred to ship as an
A.B. The _Bucephalus_ was an Eastern trader, and on this trip was
bound for Singapore and China. All went well with us until we entered
the Straits of Sunda. Then, one afternoon, the ship lying in a dead
calm off one of the many lovely islands which abound in those narrow
seas, the passengers, chiefly military officers with their families,
asked the captain to let them have a boat and a run ashore.
‘He was a good-natured man, and consented. Luckily for me, as it
afterwards proved, the gig, a very old boat, was full of lumber,
fruit, fowls, etc., procured at Anjer, and so the life-boat, a stanch,
nearly new craft, was put into the water instead.
‘At the last moment some one suggested that a cup of tea might be
acceptable on the island. Not tea alone, but provisions for an ample
meal were at once handed in, together with a keg of fresh water. This
also was, as you will discover presently, another lucky or—ought I not
to say?—providential, chance for me.
‘With myself, three more seamen, and eight or nine ladies and
gentlemen, we pushed off towards the verdant, cone-shaped island.
Landing without any difficulty on a shell-strewn beach which ran up
between two lofty and abrupt headlands, all hands, except myself and
an elderly seaman known as Tom, jumped ashore and went climbing and
scampering about like so many schoolboys out for a holiday. For my
part, I had been on scores of similar islands, or imagined I had, and
felt no particular wish to explore this one. Neither, apparently, did
my companion. So, hauling off a little from the shore, we threw the
grapnel overboard and prepared to take things easy, each in his own
fashion, he with a pipe, and I with a book lent me by one of the cabin
passengers.
‘We made a rough sort of awning with the boat’s sail, and I lay in the
stern-sheets, my companion between the midship thwarts, under its
grateful shelter. It was a drowsy afternoon and a very hot one. To our
ears the shouts and laughter of those ashore came at intervals,
gradually growing fainter as they made their way towards the summit of
the mountain, for such one might say the island was.
‘Presently, looking up from my book, I saw that old Tom was fast
asleep, his pipe still in his mouth. Very shortly afterwards I dozed,
and heard the book drop from my hand on to the grating without making
any effort to recover it. I fell asleep in the broad sunlit day,
between ship and land, in the motionless boat, with the voices of my
kind still in my ears, and awoke in thickest darkness, moving swiftly
along in utter silence, save for, at times, an oily gurgle of water
under the bows. Not that I realised even so much all at once. It took
me some time. I thought I must be still dreaming, and lay there
staring into the blackness with unbelieving eyes. Then I pinched
myself and struck my hands sharply against the thwarts. But it was of
no use. I could not convince myself that I was not the victim of some
ghastly nightmare. Then the idea came into my mind that, although
awake, I had suddenly become blind; that Tom had gone ashore for a
stroll, and that the boat, drifting, had been carried out to sea by
some current. Under the influence of this notion, I leaped to my feet,
only to be at once struck down again, as if by a hand of iron.
Although not completely stunned, I was, for a few minutes, quite
bewildered. I could feel, too, that my head was bleeding freely.
Sitting cautiously up, I called “Tom!” I listened intently, but
nothing was audible save the faint gurgling sound of the water. I
called repeatedly, but there was no answer. Suddenly I recollected
that in my pocket was a large metal box full of matches—long wax
vestas.
‘Striking one, I held it aloft and gazed eagerly about me. I thanked
God that I was not blind. But, so far as I could see, I was alone.
‘On each side, and a foot or so above my head, barely visible in the
feeble glimmer, were swiftly passing walls of dripping rock, covered,
in many places, with huge clusters of shiny weeds. So amazed was I at
my perfectly inexplicable situation that I stared until the match
burned my fingers and dropped into the water, whilst I fell back quite
overcome by astonishment and fright.
‘Then, after a bit, I struck more matches. But things were just the
same. Always the rocky weed-grown sides, sometimes within touch, at
others seeming to widen out; always the rocky, dripping roof,
sometimes at my head, at others out of sight; always the darkness, the
hurrying boat, and the water like liquid pitch.
‘Unable to see thoroughly over the boat, I presently crawled for’ard,
feeling, as I went, under the sail which had fallen over the thwarts.
As I feared, I found no one.
‘Groping about, I picked up Tom’s pipe. And then I feared the worst
for him.
‘The darkness was horrible. It was so thick that one seemed to swallow
mouthfuls of it. The atmosphere was close and muggy, with a smell
reminding me strongly of a tannery. Although lightly clad, I was
bathed in perspiration as I half sat, half crouched, at the boat’s
stern, straining my eyes ahead, and now and again lighting one of my
matches. Time nor distance had any meaning for me, now; and I have no
idea how long I had been voyaging in this unnatural fashion, when
there fell on my ears the loud threatening roar of many waters.
Commending my soul to God, I laid myself in the boat’s bottom. The
next minute she seemed to stand nearly upright and then shoot downward
like a flash, whilst thick spray flew in showers over me, and the
imprisoned waters roared and howled with deafening clamour adown the
narrow chasm, so narrow that more than once, in her headlong course, I
heard splinters fly from the boat’s timbers, whilst masses of dank
weeds detached by the blows fell upon me.
‘I now,’ continued the Captain, after a pause, during which he glanced
from the ‘tell-tale’ compass overhead to the attentive, wondering
faces of his audience—‘I now gave myself up for lost, or, at least,
imagined that I did so. But the love of life is strong indeed within
us; so that when after shooting this subterranean cataract, or
whatever it might have been, I found my boat once more steadily
gliding along, ever with the same dull gurgle of cleft water at her
bows, a faint ray of hope took the place of despairing calm. I was
young, remember; healthy, too, powerful and agile beyond the common,
and I felt it would be hard indeed to die like a rat in that black
hole. What accentuated the hope I speak of was the fact that the
lessening roar of the torrent I had just passed sounded as if directly
overhead. In vain I told myself that it was but a deceptive echo. Hope
would have her say, and buoyed me up, though ever so little, with the
idea, incredible as it seemed, that this horrible underground river
had doubled back beneath itself, and was making for the sea once more.
It has well been said that drowning men will clutch at straws! This
one, indeed, was soon to fail me; for presently, to my utter despair,
the noise of tumultuous waters ahead gave warning of another
cataract—another, or the same one, for, what with the din and the
darkness, I became quite confused. The passage was a repetition of the
last one, only, if anything, rougher; and, crushed in spirit, all
courage flown, I sank back, listening to the rush of the falling water
dying away overhead again. Was I, I wondered, descending to even
lower depths of earth’s bowels in this fashion, or merely driven to
and fro at the caprice of some remorseless current in what was to
prove my tomb! I believe that, for a time, under the stress of ideas
like this, my mind wandered; for I have a vague remembrance of singing
comic songs, of shouting defiance to fate, the darkness, and things
generally; behaving, in fact, like the lunatic I must have become.
Whether I descended any more rapids or not I cannot say. I have no
recollection whatever of the last part of my strange journey. When,
however, I came to my sober senses again I was at the end of it. The
boat was motionless, and I was standing upright in her.’
At this point in the Captain’s story, and while the interest of his
hearers was at its height, the chief officer came quietly in, and,
catching his superior’s eye, as quietly made his way out again.
Now, four bells struck, and the Captain exclaimed, ‘What, ten o’clock
already! My yarn has somewhat spun itself out, and I’m afraid the rest
must keep for another evening.’
At this there was quite a chorus of remonstrance. ‘It was cruel to
have excited their curiosity and leave it unsatisfied,’ was the
general verdict.
‘No sleep for me to-night,’ said Miss Hillier; ‘I shall be wandering
through that horrid place in my thoughts, and puzzling my brain to
discover how you got out, unless I know the sequel.’
‘It grieves me to think of your disturbed rest,’ replied the Captain,
with a bow and a quizzical smile, ‘although honoured by the cause of
it. I am afraid, however, I must refuse even you. I saw heavy weather
just now in Mr Santley’s eye; and the ship, you know, before all.’
Then the sound of ropes thrown heavily on deck was heard, together
with tramp of feet and shouting, the ship heeled over, and the Captain
went out, and was not again seen that night by his passengers.
=The Second Evening.=
Close-reefed top-sails, with a wild, high sea, met on ‘rounding the
corner,’ did not prevent the _Corona’s_ passengers from putting in an
appearance the next evening to hear the continuation of the Captain’s
story.
‘Well,’ he remarked, as he took his seat, ‘this yarn of mine seems to
bring us luck, judging by the way we exchanged our trades last night
for this rattling westerly breeze that is now taking us round the Cape
so nicely. I think I left off my story,’ continued the Captain, ‘as
the boat came to a stop in her travels, through the darkness.’
‘I had recovered from my temporary fit of madness, and was standing
up. I was trembling violently, and my limbs felt cramped and stiff. I
fancy I must have been a long time on the journey, for I was sick and
faint, principally from want of food. The air, though still heavy and
warm, was not so oppressive as it had been. But the former silence was
broken by the most unearthly noises imaginable, sobbings, deep
cavernous groans, and hoarse whistlings resounded on every side. For a
long time I did not stir. I just stood listening with all my ears, and
expecting every moment that something awful was going to take place.
‘After a while, slightly reassured, and feeling the boat’s bows
scraping some hard substance, I crept into them, and putting out my
hand, and groping about alongside, felt a mass of smooth honeycombed
stone. Striking a match, the possession of which, in my confused state
of mind, I had almost forgotten, I got hold of the painter and took a
couple of turns around a projecting ledge of rock.
‘Then I scooped up a handful of water and tasted it. It was as bitter
as gall, also quite lukewarm. Happily that in the breaker was
unspoiled. Rummaging about, I found the case of eatables also intact;
and, sitting there in profound darkness, made a meal of cheese and
white biscuits, listening between the mouthfuls to the mysterious
noises, whose origin, however, I was now enabled pretty well to guess
at.
‘It was very warm, and the tannery smell more powerful than ever. A
sensation of surrounding vastness and space, however, was with me as
opposed to the confined cramped feeling of being in a narrow channel,
such as I suppose myself to have emerged from. Now, I could stand
upright and thrust an oar out and upwards without touching anything;
and, shouting aloud, the sound went echoing and thundering away over
the surface of the water with reverberations lasting for minutes.
‘I can take you into that place,’ continued the Captain impressively,
‘and tell you about it as far as my poor words will serve. But I
cannot tell you my feelings. At times I almost imagined that I was in
Hades, and that the ceaseless noises about me were the cries and
groans of lost souls therein. At others, a wild, forlorn hope would
seize me, that it might all turn out to be only a horrible dream, and
that I should presently awake to see God’s dear sun shining brightly
on the gallant ship and the green island once more. It had all
happened with such startling rapidity, the transformation had been so
utter and complete, that to this day I wonder I did not become a
raving madman, and so perish miserably down there in the depths. But
God in His infinite mercy took pity upon me, and brought me at the
last out of such a prison as it is given to few men to see, much less
escape from.
‘Like the majority of seafarers, I, in those days, seldom troubled my
head about what is vaguely called “religion.”
‘The careful and pious teachings of my childhood had been forgotten
almost wholly. But, in that awesome place, in solitude and misery,
bound with darkness of Scripture, “that might be felt,” many things
came back to me; and, kneeling down, I clasped my hands and prayed
fervently that I might be saved out of the valley of the shadow of
death which encompassed me. Feeling better and stronger, I took my
sheath-knife, and with it cut away at one of the oars until I had
quite a respectable pile of chips. Placing this on the rock alongside,
I set it on fire, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing it blaze
cheerfully up and, for a few yards, dispel the darkness. I kept adding
fuel from the same source, with the addition of a couple of
stretchers, until I had a really good-sized fire. By its light I saw
that I was on a flat rock some twenty feet in circumference. Round
about were other islets, shaped most fantastically. One, close to,
resembled a gigantic horseshoe; another towered up, the perfect
similitude of a church spire, into the darkness. At their bases were
holes, into and through which the water, flowing and ebbing, produced
the sounds that at first had so alarmed me. Look as I might, I could
not distinguish the way I had come in, although I thought I could hear
the steady pouring of a volume of water not far away. Breaking off a
lump of the stone on which I sat, I examined it closely, and felt
pretty certain that it was lava. I had seen such before at Mauna Loa,
in the Sandwich Islands.
‘Was I then in the womb of a volcano, extinct just at present,
doubtless; but, perhaps, even now, taking in water preparatory to
generating steam and becoming active? Somewhere in my reading I had
dropped across an article on seismology, and one of the theories put
forward came to mind as above.
‘The idea made my flesh creep!
‘I seemed to feel the air, the water, and my lump of lava getting
hotter and hotter.
‘Hopeless as my case appeared, and almost resigned to face the end as
I had become, even so, I did by no means relish a private view of the
preliminaries to a volcanic eruption.
‘Strangely inconsistent, you will say, but so it was. When face to
face, even with the last scene of all, it seems there can yet be
something of which one may be afraid.
‘Meanwhile, my beacon blazed up brightly, and, peering around, I
presently made out a pile of stuff apparently floating against the
base of one of the nearest islets.
‘Taking a flaring fire-stick, I got into the boat and sculled over to
it. It was a heap of driftwood. Lowering my torch to examine the stuff
more closely, I nearly pitched overboard, as, out of the reddish-black
water within the ragged patch of light, a white, dead face gazed up at
me with wide-open, staring eyes. I recognised it at once as that of my
old shipmate. Tom, on awaking, had evidently been knocked out of the
boat and drowned, as so nearly happened to myself. The current had as
evidently carried him here with me.
‘I leaned over the gunwale as if fascinated. What would I not have
given for his living companionship now!
‘Lifting, at last, one of the stiff arms, I shook the unresponsive
hand in silent farewell, and paddled back towards the flame that
marked my islet, actually feeling envious of the quiet corpse.
Misfortune makes us sadly selfish, and so little had my thoughts ran
on the fate of my comrade that the shock of his appearance thus was a
heavy one.
‘I took it as a bad omen, and what spirit I had nearly left me.
‘After sitting motionless on my rock for a very long time, with my
head bowed on my knees, and nearly letting my fire go out, I shook
myself together a little, threw more chips on, and examined my stores.
‘All told, with cheese, biscuits, several tins of potted meat and
preserves, I reckoned there was enough, on meagre allowance, to last
me for a week. Water about the same.
‘More than once I felt tempted to throw the lot overboard and follow
it.
‘But youth and health and strength are indeed wondrous things, and a
man possessed of them will do and dare much before giving up entirely,
no matter how drear the outlook, how sharp the arrows of fate which
transfix him!
‘Feeling weary and fagged, I lay down in the boat and slept, I
suppose, for hours very soundly.
‘The awaking was bad—worse even than the first time.
‘One thing comforted me somewhat. I found that by the constant
endeavour to use my eyes in the darkness I was becoming able to
discern at least the dim outlines of objects.
‘Renewing the fire with a lot of driftwood I picked up at the further
side of my islet, I proceeded to carry out a plan I had formed. Taking
the gratings out of the stern-sheets, I arranged them firmly in the
bows. Then, breaking off projecting lumps and knobs of lava, I beat
them smaller with an iron pin, which I fortunately found in the boat,
and spread them thickly over the gratings, thus forming a sort of
stage. Upon this I built a substantial fire. I was, you see, bound on
a voyage of exploration.
‘There might, possibly, be some avenue to freedom out of this
subterranean sea other than the one I had entered it from, exit by
which was, of course, hopeless.
‘It was, I argued, useless to stay on the rock. I could not be much
worse off, no matter where I got to.
‘How I yearned and hungered for light no tongue could tell. It seemed
so hard to wander in the gloom for a brief night of existence. And
then, the end! Do you, any of you, wonder at my hair turning grey?
‘As I scraped the last embers off the islet on to the tin dish used as
a baler, in order to throw them on the new fire, the light fell full
upon the corpse, which, to all appearance, had just floated alongside.
‘My nerves were evidently getting unstrung by what I had gone through,
for, letting the dish fall, I shouted with terror, and, jumping into
the boat, pushed wildly away from the poor body. To my unutterable
dismay it followed me, with one arm extended and raised slightly, as
if in deprecation of my desertion of it.
‘I have thought at times,’ remarked the Captain parenthetically, ‘of
what a picture the scene would make—the boat floating in a patch of
crimson water, with the fire flaring into the blackness on her bows,
myself standing up grasping an oar, and gazing intently at the nearly
nude body as it came closer and closer, and everywhere around the
thick darkness.
‘I think that in another moment I should have leapt overboard, so
great was my fright, but that I happened to catch sight of a piece of
rope leading from the boat to the body.
‘Getting hold of it, I pulled, and the corpse came also. Then I
understood. On my leaving it the first time a portion of the sail
halliards, which had been towing overhead, had got foul of the body,
and, unperceived, I had brought it back to my islet with me.
‘My presence of mind returned, and, not caring to run the risk of more
surprises of the sort, I again landed, and pulled the body on to the
islet.
‘There must have been some preserving agent in that water, for,
despite the heat, there was no sign of decomposition, and the features
were as fresh as in life.
‘Sculling gently along, with my fire blazing bravely and comfortingly
at the bow, I set off into the unknown.
‘For a time my attention was thoroughly taken up in trying to avoid
the numerous lava islets, whose presence I could scarcely detect until
right upon them. Indeed, once or twice we bumped heavily enough to
send showers of hot ashes hissing into the water.
‘At last, after a long spell of this kind of blind navigation, I
seemed to get clearer of these provoking islets. The noises also, to
which I was becoming quite accustomed, nearly ceased.
‘As I sculled warily along, I listened with all my ears for some
indication of a return current. It was my one hope, and it kept every
sense on the alert.
‘But the water within the radius of my so limited vision was quiet and
still as in a covered reservoir—much more so, now, indeed, than at my
old resting-place. This fact I accounted for by the emptying near
there of the underground, possibly under-sea river, which had brought
me into such an awful fix.
‘Presently the boat bumped more violently than ever, and by the
flame-light which shot up from the disturbed fire, I saw, rising far
aloft, a solid wall of rock. No lava islet this, but the end of
all—the boundary, in this direction, of my prison.
‘To right and left stretched the same grim barrier, dropping sheer
down into the still black water. With a sinking heart I turned the
boat’s head along the wall to my right hand, keeping a little distance
out, moving very slowly, with just a turn or two of the oar,
sufficient only to keep way on her.
[Illustration: The light fell full upon the corpse. (Page 246.)]
‘It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours, when, straight
ahead, over the somewhat feeble light of my fire, which had proved,
after all, more help by way of company than use, I imagined the
darkness looked thinner. Inspired by the mere idea, I sculled
vigorously along, at the risk of complete wreck from some sunken rock,
and in a short time the boat shot into an oblong-shaped streak of
light—light, that is, comparatively, for it was as dim as starlight;
although, so acclimatised, if I may use the term, had my eyes become
to the denser medium, that by its aid I could see clearly every
article in the boat.
‘I will not trouble you with a description of my feelings, nor of all
the extravagancies I committed in the first flush of delighted hope
that had visited me. I seemed to be once more in touch with the upper
world through that column of dim greyness ascending through the
darkness, and so weak as hardly to be able to conquer it.’
* * * * *
Here the Captain paused. He had told his story well; seldom at a loss
for a word, and with now and again, but rarely, an appropriate
gesture.
So successful had he been in gaining the attention of his listeners,
that, when he ceased, they sat quite silent, gazing at him fixedly,
and for some minutes no one spoke.
Then four bells, which struck on deck during a lull in the roar of the
gale, came with such sudden distinctness to their ears, as to make
some of the ladies start and utter timid little ejaculations.
The spell broken, a chorus of tongues clamoured out. Miss Hillier
alone was silent. Then some dear foolish female affinity said, ‘Why,
Amy, love, you’ve been crying!’ This the girl, with flaming cheeks
denied, only the next minute to affirm, quite inconsequently, that if
she had wept (which she was certain she had not), was not such a tale
enough to make one, with any heart at all, shed tears?
=The Third Evening.=
East by S-½-South, under fore and main courses and upper and lower
top-sails, sped the _Corona_ with the wind on her quarter. Aft, rose
great water-hills, darkly green, with white crests, seeming, as each
followed each, to hang momentarily suspended over the stern and
threaten to overwhelm everything; then, as the good ship rose just in
the nick of time, breaking with a long surge in sheets of milky foam
away for’ard.
The sun was setting sullenly behind a dense cloud-bank. An albatross
or two flew screaming from one wave-crest to another right in the
wake. It was a typical evening in the Southern Ocean, the long wash of
whose seas reach from the foot of Cape Leuwin to the rugged cliffs of
Fuego.
‘Well,’ continued the Captain, without any preface, as he took his
seat facing the waiting and expectant little party.
‘Well, stare as I might aloft, I could not discover to where this
Jacob’s ladder led. You see, at its best, it was only a column of
dusky twilight, and the further end, from where I stood, was lost to
view. As I gazed, it appeared to be gradually fading away. I rubbed my
eyes; and when I again looked, all around was blacker than the
blackest midnight, except where my fire still burned. For a while, I
was puzzled to account for the disappearance of the light. Then the
thought struck me that it might be caused by the fall of night in the
upper world. Was I, I wondered, as I turned sadly to my fire, ever
again to look upon the bright day, the sun, the moon, the stars, and
all the wonders of that fair earth now grown so dear to me? Truly was
I one of those unhappy men who, as the Psalmist says, “sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and iron.”
‘Close to the pillar of light, just on its outside edge, I had noticed
a long, slender, almost perpendicular pinnacle of lava towering
upwards like the spire of a church.
‘At the base of this I securely moored my boat. Then, thinking that a
cup of tea would cheer me up a little, I brewed one, and made a good
meal. After this, lying down, I pondered many things, gazing always
aloft.
‘Once I imagined I saw a star; but it disappeared before I could make
sure.
‘The one question uppermost in my mind was whether or not the glimmer
would reappear when the morning broke above, or had it been an
illusion? One thing encouraged me to hope for the best. It was
perceptibly cooler, a grateful change from the warm mugginess I had
encountered everywhere else. I had, by this, contracted a habit of
talking aloud, and I presently caught myself saying that I would climb
the lava pinnacle in the morning and try to get a better look-out.
‘“In the morning.”
‘The utter vanity of the so familiar phrase as it fell on my ears
struck me with all the force of some terrible shock, whilst the cold
deadening thought seized upon me that, for me, in this world, there
was to be no more morning. Through darkness was I to make the last
journey towards that dread bourne whence no traveller returns? The
slow death in the darkness, drifting about on the bitter waters of
that secret sea—that was the thought that my soul revolted from. And
strange thoughts, horrible thoughts, a man thinks placed as I was. At
times his reason leaves him, his whole soul rises in impious revolt,
and the devil rages freely therein, as if already his victim’s bed
were made in hell.
‘But, thanks be to God!’ exclaimed the Captain, fervently, ‘that the
recollections of that hideous time—of the fits of doubt and despair
and terror and madness, of which I have said but little to you—grow
dimmer and weaker with the years, leaving only in enduring relief the
memory of a great mercy!
‘It pleased me, though, unproved as it was, that notion of being able
to distinguish between night and daylight. The very fact, pure
conjecture though it might be, of having the power to say, “Night has
come,” seemed to bring peace to my wearied eyes; so that I presently
lay down and slept dreamlessly, and on awakening found again, to my
intense joy, that mild, soft haze falling upon me.
‘Scarcely giving myself time to snatch a mouthful of biscuit and a
draught of cold tea, I jumped ashore and commenced the ascent of the
tapering mass of rock. It was, as I have said, nearly perpendicular,
and there was no lack of foot and hand-holds—projections sharp as
razors, formed by the drippings of the once molten lava. Thanks to my
trained vision and the help afforded by the close proximity of the
light, I could see dimly. Higher up, the projecting spurs and knobs
grew scarcer, and the surface more smooth and slippery. It was
terrible work. At home I had had some practice as a cragsman, and this
stood to me well now. As I climbed, sometimes vertically, at others
spirally, wherever I could feel the firmest hold, the atmosphere grew
palpably clearer, and this infused new strength into my aching limbs
as I crawled upwards, now hanging by one bleeding hand over the abyss
beneath me, now with both hands breathlessly embracing some sharp spur
that cut into my flesh, whilst my feet groped convulsively for
precarious support.
‘When just about spent, I unexpectedly came to the top. I found only
room enough there to sit down and pant. A wild hope had filled my
breast that this rocky ladder would lead me to liberty—a hope growing
stronger with every upward step. As I looked around, these hopes fell,
and the old leaden weight of despair seemed to settle once more upon
my soul. Slanting away from me on every side, stretched the rugged
acclivities of a vast amphitheatre, converging again towards its
summit, where the blue sky was distinctly visible. Picture to
yourselves an hour-glass with a long tunnel-like waist. Place a straw,
the end of which rests on the bottom of the lower section of the glass
and reaches up through the tunnel until just on a level with the
sloping-upward portion of the top section, but touching it nowhere.
Now place a minute insect on the very tip of the straw, and you have
my situation as nearly as I can explain it to you. And there I
crouched on my lava straw, stretching out unavailing hands to those
scarred cliffs of liberty, betwixt me and which spread that dark
abyss, with the mournful waters of the bitter sea at its foot. The
distance between where I sat on the top of the pinnacle and the
sloping walls of the crater all round must have been about twenty
five feet. I think it was afterwards measured as that. A hundred
plans darted swiftly into my mind for crossing this little space,
which meant so much to me, only to be as quickly dismissed as
impracticable.
‘Although still very far from day, it was yet light enough to let me
see that the sides of the crater, nearly equi-distant around my perch,
were cut and ploughed into deep furrows, and that, once there, I
should have comparatively little trouble in reaching upper air.
‘Would it be possible, I wondered, to splice what remained of the oars
together, and thus make some kind of a bridge along which to creep?
But the idea of again facing such a climb with such an unwieldy burden
made me shudder. Also, I doubted much if there was length enough to
reach across, supposing I ever got them to where I was. This one
amongst many other plans. All at once, as I sat gazing alternately at
the far, far away patch of blue overhead, and the dark rocks opposite,
there flashed across my thoughts the recollection of the boat’s
grapnel. I had seen nothing of it. But it might still be hanging under
her bows. Attached to the stern-post by a short length of chain
shackled to a ring-bolt, it would have taken a heavy shock to shift
it. If I could but get a line across and, by help of the grapnel,
firmly secured to the opposite side, I felt I was saved. Tearing up
the light dungaree jumper I was wearing, and which, with the remainder
of my clothing, was little else but a rag, I bound pieces around my
stiff and wounded hands and feet, and commenced the descent. It was an
awful journey, worse than the coming up. Then, my skin was whole, at
the start, anyhow; now, the cuts and tears re-opened and bled and
stung more than ever. At one time, indeed, I felt that I must give up
and let go. But the thought of the grapnel appeared to endue me with
fresh strength, whilst, in my mind’s eye, I kept steadfastly the
memory of that dear glimpse of blue sky. At length, looking down and
pausing for a moment, I saw a flicker of light. It was from the dying
embers of my fire, and, in a few minutes, I was in the boat. Although
nearly utterly exhausted, crawling for’ard, I felt for the chain. It
was there; and pulling it rapidly in, what was my delight to find the
little grapnel still at its end. Replenishing my fire, I made some
tea, preparatory to having something to eat, for I knew I should want
all my strength presently. In hauling at the chain my hands had got
wet, and, to my surprise, the bleeding had ceased, and the pain almost
departed. I immediately bathed my feet, and felt wonderfully relieved
thereby. Now, I had my tea, and then considered whether it might not
be wiser to pass the night where I was, and take a full day for my
attempt. God knows how eager I was for the moment of trial to arrive!
Still, I chose the prudent side, and sat and watched the hazy column
turn first to a dull green, then to ashen grey, then go out suddenly,
and so I knew, certainly now, that the day was over on the earth.
‘As the darkness, thick and impenetrable, closed me in, I lay down
thinking to sleep a little, but my rest was disturbed and broken.
Always, as I dozed off, I was clambering painfully up that terrible
rock, with bleeding hands and feet, staggering under huge burdens of
rope and iron. Once I dreamt that my shipmate’s body had floated off
the islet, and was, even now, with white clammy fingers, striving to
lift itself into the boat, whilst the ghastly face peered at me over
the side. This effectually awoke me; but so strong was the impression,
that I seized a fire-stick, and, making it blaze up, searched sharply
around. I had my trouble for my pains. But further attempt at sleep
for me was out of the question.
‘My dawn, such as it was, came at last. I had already detached the
grapnel from its chain, and unrove the halliards from the mast. These
last I wound round and round my body, fully thirty feet of line, small
“Europe” rope, but tough and strong. The disposal of my precious
grapnel, which, luckily, was one of the smallest of its kind, only
used, as we had used it, for a temporary holdfast, bothered me a good
deal.
‘Finally, I placed my head between two of the flukes, one of which
then rested on each shoulder, whilst the stock hung down my back,
swinging loosely. To make sure of the flukes not slipping, I passed a
piece of line from one to the other, and knotted it securely.
‘It was a most uncomfortable fixture altogether, a tight fit for my
neck into the bargain, but I could think of no other way.
‘I’m not going to inflict upon you a detailed description of how I
reached the top—I believe it must have been fully five hundred
feet—carrying that half-hundred weight of iron, to say nothing of the
rope. Indeed, I hardly know myself. However, get there I did; but, as
you may guess, in a very evil plight.
‘I recollect, when still some thirty feet from the top, unable to bear
any longer the horrible chafing of the flukes, which had broken
through the skin, and were grinding against the bone, that I rested,
or, rather, balanced myself on a sharp ledge, whilst casting the
grapnel adrift from my shoulders, and unwinding the rope from my body.
Then, making one end of the line fast to the ring in the stock, I
fastened the other round my waist, the grapnel all this time resting
loosely on the rock.
‘Leaving it there, and paying out the line cautiously into the void
below me, away I went again, bracing myself at every step to withstand
the awful jerk should the grapnel slip off, and tighten the rope with
the momentum of its fall. If such a thing had happened, and the
chances were many, my fate was certain—a few scrambling clutches and
annihilation. But where it went I had made up my mind to go also.
‘It was my only and last hope, that bit of crooked four-clawed iron!
Death was in every step I took, and I believe that it was in those
last few feet that my hair turned its colour, so terrible was the
suspense and expectation.
‘But God was very good to me, and I reached the summit with a couple
of feet of line to spare. Dragging the grapnel up, I crouched down on
the little flat, table-like top, and fairly sobbed with pain and
exhaustion.
‘To my alarm, I felt myself growing weaker instead of stronger from my
rest. The fact was that, with the awful cutting about I had received,
I had lost a good deal of blood. Many of the deeper cuts on my hands
and arms were bleeding still. Evidently there was no time to lose.
Standing up, feeling sick and dizzy, I coiled down my line for a fair
throw, and, grasping it some three feet or so above the grapnel, swung
it to and fro until I thought impetus enough was attained, then hove
with all my remaining strength.
‘I shut my eyes, expecting to hear every second the sound of iron
clanging far beneath against the sides of the pinnacle. When I opened
them again, the line was hanging in a slack bight across the chasm.
The little anchor had fallen directly into one of the deep furrows,
but perilously close to the edge. With trembling fingers I hauled the
line in. Tighter, tighter, tighter still, then with all the force I
could command. Would it support the weight of my body, or would it
come?
‘Without staying to argue the question, I made it fast afresh to a
round nob, the only one on the place. Then, saying a short prayer, and
taking a last glance at the blue sky, I let myself slip gently off the
rock, hanging with my hands on the thin, hempen line.
‘It sagged terribly. I could plainly hear my heart knocking and
thumping against my ribs. It sagged and “gave” still more. Imagining
that I heard the noise of the grapnel scraping and dragging, I looked
upon myself as lost. But I still continued to drag myself across. It
was a long, terrible agony, and, more than once, I thought I should
have to let go. My hands almost refused to close upon the rope. But I
still, almost as in a dream, worked myself along. Once I caught myself
wondering if I should fall into or near the boat, and whether the dead
man would be there to receive me. Then a horrible fancy seized me that
I was making no progress, but that my hands were glued to the rope
with blood—ever in the same spot. Then suddenly, in my now mechanical
motions, my head hit with great violence against rock. This
effectually aroused me. I was at the threshold of liberty—the edge of
the crater, where it sloped quickly away below.
‘I hung there whilst one might count twenty, looking up. I was three
feet beneath the rim. The rope had given that much.
‘I don’t remember in the least pulling myself up and over that
overhanging ledge. When my senses returned, I was lying in the furrow
alongside the grapnel, and a rush of cold water was sweeping under me.
How long I had been there I have no notion. Certainly a great many
hours. The rain was pouring down in tropical torrents; thunder pealed
above me, and the lightning flashed and darted in vain endeavour to
pierce the lower abyss.
‘After many fruitless attempts, I staggered to my feet. I felt so
dreadfully weak and faint that I thought I was about to die. But a
glance aloft gave me fresh heart. The dark clouds of the thunderstorm
were passing over, and full upon my nearly naked body fell the warm
rays of the glorious sun. I almost at that moment, Parsee-like,
worshipped him.
‘Painfully, stumbling at every step, I crawled upwards, with many a
rest and draught of the rain water, caught in rocky hollows, until,
after a weary time, and feeling as one risen from the tomb, I emerged
into the full light of day once more.
‘Naked, bleeding, bruised, but free, I stood on the topmost peak of
that fateful island. At first everything swam before my vision. Trees,
the ocean, the far horizon, reeled and shook, advanced and receded to
my dazzled eyes. The sun was low in the heavens. As things gradually
assumed their natural appearance, I became conscious of a great ship
lying at anchor, of a cluster of white tents not a hundred yards away
from me.
‘But of these things, for a space, I took no heed. Sun, air, water and
sky held my regards in ecstasy. I drank the beauty and the newness of
them in till my soul was saturated with the tender loveliness of that
nature to which I had been for so long a stranger. Then, and not till
then, I tottered towards the clump of tents lying just below me.
‘Men were there, carpenters apparently, hammering at a tall wooden
structure. Other men—men-o’-war seamen by their rig—were arriving and
departing with burdens.
‘I was close upon them before they saw me. Some shrank back. One, I
recollect, picked up a rifle and brought it to his shoulder. A man
with a gold epaulette on his coat struck it up and spoke to the sailor
in English.
‘Presently I was taken into a tent, a doctor appeared from somewhere,
and, whilst he dressed my wounds, they gave me a cordial, and I told
my story with what seemed to me like the voice of a stranger. I don’t
remember much afterwards until I awoke, swinging in a hammock under a
shady tree close to the tents.
‘I was a mass of bandages, but sensible, though terribly weak.
‘“You’ve had a narrow escape of brain fever, my lad,” said the doctor.
“But we’ve pulled you through all right. Lucky we happened to be here,
though, wasn’t it? A nice time you must have had down there. We found
your rope; but our men didn’t care about venturing any further, as
steam was beginning to come up.”
‘“Four days,” replied the doctor, in answer to my question, “it is
since you appeared on the scene and scared the camp.
‘“The _Bucephalus_? Yes, curiously enough, we met her just entering
Singapore Harbour. That’s ten days ago. She spoke us, and asked us to
keep a look-out for her boat with two seamen. We have one of them, at
all events. I suppose the other poor beggar will be thrown up
presently.”
‘I looked at him. “Yes,” he continued, “the old volcano is showing
every indication of renewed activity. We came here to observe the
transit of Venus, but shall have probably to pack up and form another
station if those symptoms don’t subside. See there!”
‘Looking in the direction of his outstretched finger, I saw several
tall puffs of what seemed like white smoke issuing from the depths of
the crater.
‘The observers were loth to shift their quarters; but, when some
red-hot cinders from below set one of the tents on fire, they accepted
the hint.
‘Still in my hammock, I was presently carried down the mountain and on
board H.M.S. _Hygeia_, where, with careful and skilled attention, I
soon recovered.’
The Captain ceased speaking. For a time nothing was heard except the
steady blast of the ‘Roaring Forties’ overhead.