WE DESCEND INTO THE NEST-CAVES.
When we awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and our captain had
quitted the room.
“Hilloa!” cried my brother. “Get up, Claud! Make haste, or that fellow
Prabu will leave us behind.”
“Not he,” said I, dressing very leisurely; “he has gone to prepare for
the gathering.”
“Ah! but he _will_, though--just to save us from risking our property
in the venture.”
“What do you mean, Martin--what property have we?” I asked, taking his
words quite literally.
“Why, our necks, to be sure. You call them property, don’t you?” But at
that moment Prabu came to tell us the native gatherers were ready to
set out for the caves.
The party consisted of half a dozen of the prahu’s men; the two
leaders, Kati and Prabu; and an auxiliary force of six of the
villagers, who, from a lifelong residence near the caves, were supposed
to be acquainted with every nook and cranny. The whole party, with
the exception of Martin and I (who, by the way, were attired in loose
jackets and trousers of Chinese grass silk), were naked to the waist,
which was girdled by a kind of sash, that secured their drawers. Then
each, ourselves included, had a small bag suspended from the neck for
the nests; a sharp billhook, with which to cut a pathway through the
jungle, a long iron spike, a coil of roughly-made rope, strong enough
to support the weight of a man; a torch, made of bark and the resins
exuded from forest trees, and a flint and steel. In addition, several
of the villagers carried two or three bamboo poles of considerable
length, and Martin and I had one pistol each, and one creese between
us, of which he was the custodian. Thus equipped, we started upon our
breakneck expedition.
A long tramp of three or four miles, through thick jungle and tall
grass, continually on the lookout for deadly snakes, wading across
running streams, now and then falling into holes treacherously hidden
by the dank vegetation, and we reached the base of a precipitous cliff;
and there we came to a halt, not so much to rest, as for Martin and
I to hold an examination of our clothes. “Our clothes” I said!--but
we had left the greater portion of them in the bushes and upon the
brambles, which had torn them from our bodies.
“Oh, bother!” cried Martin, after a fruitless effort to readjust his
upper garment; “we had better strip to it, like the natives;” and in a
minute he was bared to the waist, and I had followed his example.
Thus prepared, we followed our guides up the mountainous rock, but
we had no small difficulty in making anything like progress; for a
stream which flowed from the top rendered the ascent so slippery, that
for every two feet in advance we went one backwards. The example,
however, of the natives--who, by the help of their pikes, were climbing
slowly but surely upwards, and resembled a school of aged monkeys with
walking sticks--urged us on, and at length we reached the summit safe
and sound, if I except the state of our wind, which was so short that
we were obliged to throw ourselves upon the rock, and rest before
proceeding further.
The difficulties and dangers of that ascent, however, dwindled into
insignificance when, stretching ourselves at full length upon the
ground, and hanging our heads over the precipice, we caught a glimpse
of the task before, or rather, beneath us.
Let the reader imagine a nearly perpendicular rock, from the summit to
the boiling sea which lashed its base, some five or six hundred feet,
and he will not be surprised that, moving backwards and again getting
to my feet, I exclaimed:
“Born monkeys could never make that descent without breaking their
necks, Martin. The sight is enough for me.”
“Oh, nonsense!” he replied; “a hundred feet more or less makes no
difference, so that the rope is strong.”
“But, Prabu,” he said, “where are the caves?” I could not see an
opening of any kind.
“Let my masters watch the descent of the villagers, and they will see
them,” was the reply.
The auxiliaries from the village were the first to go over the side.
Each man drove his spike into the ground, very carefully and deeply;
then, having secured one end of his rope to the handle, threw the other
over the rock, and commenced the descent. Martin and I, at full length,
and with our heads over the precipice, watched in astonishment the cat
or rather monkey-like ease and facility with which each let himself
down the rope; till, when within about a hundred feet from the sea, and
looking to us scarcely so large as the animal to whom I have compared
him, he bent his knees, and placing the soles of his feet against the
rock, used it as a kind of springing-board, from which he leaped a
sufficient distance to obtain a momentum that sent him, on his return,
into a fissure or hole in its side, which, by the way, we did not know
was there until we suddenly lost sight of the gatherer.
“After all, Claud,” commented Martin, “you see, it is not so difficult.”
“For birds, monkeys, or these fellows, who are trained to it from
childhood, perhaps not,” said I; but before my brother could reply,
Prabu, pulling us back by the legs, said:
“Are my young masters ready to make the descent?”
Now, from the very expression of his countenance, I knew he thought we
should refuse, and oh! how I longed to do so; but then, who could have
borne to be set down “coward” by those grinning natives behind me?--and
so I resolved rather to risk my life. As for my brother, he cried on
the instant:
“Ready! Aye, I should think so, Prabu, if you will only make the rope
taut round the spike.”
For an instant he appeared surprised, but then he said: “You are brave
lads, but too impatient; I will descend first, so as to receive you at
the mouth of the cave, and Kati will stay here, keeping an eye upon the
cord and spike until you are landed safely.”
“All right,” said I, well satisfied with the arrangement, and over the
side went our captain; but he was not so expert as his men, for ere
he could “light” at an entrance to a cave, he swung about in mid-air,
making several failures.
“Our friend is not so well up in his business as the other fellows,”
said Martin.
“He is a gallant fellow, notwithstanding. But see, he has done it at
last; and it is our turn now, Martin.”
“All right, Claud; I will go down first.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will.”
This amiable dispute would have lasted some time, but Kati, having
hauled up Prabu’s rope, without one word of notice, passed it round my
chest, and under my arm, saying:
“S’pose sahib’s hand come sore, so him can’t hold tight, he no tumble
now, for rope catchee.”
But however kindly intended, and much as I liked caution in a general
way, I felt annoyed at being taken by our mahogany-colored companion
for a milksop, who was obliged to make the descent in a kind of cradle,
while the others used their hands only, and said, angrily:
“Remove the rope, Kati; I will do as the others have done. My hands are
strong enough to hold it.”
But the latter, having once received his orders, you might as easily
have moved a mountain as have induced him to swerve from them, even in
a degree; thus, as he very coolly continued to adjust the rope, so that
it should cause me the least possible inconvenience, he replied:
“Umpossible; the cap’en say, young sahibs go like dis, so go they mus,
cos dere hands not buffalo horn, like dark man’s, but all soft like
cat’s paw--rope cut ’em in bits.”
But more vexatious still was my brother, who seconded Kati’s affront:
“Come, Claud, old fellow,” said he; “the strap is on, it is no use
kicking. Go on, Kati must obey orders; besides, it is the safer plan
after all.”
This speech surprised me, for most assuredly, had he been seized in
that rude fashion, he would have been obstreperous enough. The truth,
however, was, that delighted at my risk being lessened, he swallowed
his own pride, and resolved to submit himself to the same undignified
if not (the natives being bystanders) somewhat humiliating ordeal.
Well, over I went, keeping my eyes upwards, and feeling the cliff with
my feet, and so, hand after hand, let myself down; but about half-way,
I struck my head so violently against a projecting piece of rock, that
I believe I should have let go the rope but for a cheer from Martin
above, and another from Prabu beneath; so at length I felt myself
suddenly clutched by the legs and dragged into the cave--of course,
by Prabu, who had been standing upon a small, narrow ledge for the
purpose. After a similar manner, but with greater speed, descended
Martin, who, as he landed, cried:
“Bravo us! You see we have done it, Claud, and it is no great matter
after all.”
“Aye, Martin, the coming down is all very well; but the getting up
again? How, in heaven’s name, shall we manage that?”
“Oh,” said he, laughing, “that will come all right. As for me, I shall
make my way up the same as the natives; and you, you know, we can haul
up between us.”
When Kati, and all those of the prahu’s men who were not stationed
above, at the spikes and ropes, to prevent their being tampered with,
had descended, Prabu leading the way, we moved toward the interior of
the cave. At the entrance the scent had not been agreeable, but as we
progressed the stench became almost intolerable--so much so, I could
not forbear an exclamation of disgust.
“Oh, bother!” cried Martin--“adventurers mustn’t have too fine noses;
we shall get used to it in time.”
“Aye,” said I, “as eels do to skinning--at the last gasp.” But my
brother was right, or other causes soon made us forget the nuisance.
As we advanced, the cave appeared to widen; but as, at every step,
we had been leaving the light and wind behind us, it was now both
prudent and necessary to appeal to flint and steel. Two torches were
therefore at once lighted by Prabu and Kati, when a din assailed our
ears that could be compared with nothing mortal. The little swallows
in regiments, nay battalions, left their nests, loudly chirping
their astonishment, and flapping their wings with indignation; while
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of huge bats darted frantically to and
fro, and, swooping down in their anger, literally smacked our faces
and boxed our ears with their wings. Almost stunned with the hideous
sounds--sounds rendered almost supernatural by the echoes of the
cave--I placed my fingers in my ears; but removing them again, the
noise sounded as demoniac as looked that mass of darkness, gilded by
the deep red glare of the two torches.
“Our small friends seem taken by surprise,” said Martin, who regarded
it all as good fun. “Hilloa! that’s not civil,” he added, as a bat
flapped his great wings in his face.
“They will soon make their way out to sea,” said Prabu. But as the last
covey of bats, probably aroused by the noise made by the others, came,
as it were, tumbling one over the other in their haste to escape from
the cavern, they blundered against the torches, and we were at once in
total darkness.
“How stupid of the winged brutes!” exclaimed my brother.
By the time, however, the torches had been again lighted, the noisy
little animals seemed to have made their way to the sea, and then
Martin said, regrettingly:
“What a pity we didn’t have a shot at those swallows! We could have
brought down a hundred of them.”
“It would have been a cruel and wanton destruction of life,” said I.
“My young master is right,” said Prabu, who took a purely business-like
view of the matter. “You would have destroyed the creatures who make
the nests.”
“Ah! I see, it would have been like killing the goose who laid the
golden eggs,” said Martin; and Prabu, who had never heard that
celebrated legend, taking the words literally, replied:
“A wonderful bird that, my master. Her nests would bring more dollars
than these.”
“I should think so, indeed,” returned Martin, saucily. “It is only a
pity one don’t know where they roost.”
“But anyhow, Prabu, we _might_ have killed a few of those bats.”
“Yes,” was the reply, “or any of the swallows which build near the
entrance of the caves.”
“But why those? Are they less valuable, only because they build in the
interior?”
To this Prabu replied, by explaining that there were two species of
swallow in the caves--one that produced the edible-nests, another that
built near the entrance, but which were always at enmity with their
more valuable neighbors, whom they were in the habit of disturbing and
attacking.
Advancing, torch in hand, Prabu led us to what at first appeared to
be the furthermost end of the cavern; but suddenly placing himself
upon all-fours, or rather _all threes_, for in one of his hands he
held the torch, he crept through an aperture barely large enough to
admit one person. We followed, and then found ourselves in what, from
the sound, for we could not see, seemed to be a very large excavation
in the rock. Here two other torches were lighted, and being fixed in
the earth--which, by the way, seemed entirely formed of guano, or the
dung of the swallows--the whole party began to unpack their bamboo
poles. These they lashed securely end to end, till they had constructed
between them six poles, each of the enormous length of ninety or one
hundred feet. I looked on with surprise, for the purpose of these
bamboos had not occurred to me till now. By means of these the natives
would ascend to the nests, which are invariably placed near the top of
the caves.
The poles being completed, Prabu, Kati, and four others, placing them
upon their shoulders, followed four men, who waved lighted torches
above their heads, as if to see in which spots the nests most abounded.
Experience, however, must have been their greatest friend, for the eye
could not pierce the opaque mass between them and the roof. No, it
was only when the places had been chosen, the poles fixed, and each
man, torch in hand, and by aid of deep notches cut in his pole, had
clambered to its utmost height, that we could see the vast size of the
cave in which we stood; and which, by the way, we afterward discovered
was used by the gatherers as a habitation during the nesting-season.
As, before permitting Martin and I to descend to the caves, it had been
Prabu’s policy to let us first watch the natives, so he insisted that
we should study the monkey-like facility with which his men clambered
up the poles and remained thereupon, before he would permit us to
attempt the same feat.
For some time we complied, but, then, nest-gathering is so tedious a
process that we became impatient of waiting, and resolved to try our
hands. Thus, we took up some of the spare bamboos, and began to lash
them together; but, comprehending our intention, one of the natives
told us that it was useless, for there were no more stations for poles
in that cave.
“Then look you, my friend, we will try another cave,” replied Martin.
“For I take it,” he added--as he pointed to a barely distinguishable
opening in the rock, at a short distance from where we were
standing--“that hole is the entrance to a cavern of some kind. At any
rate, we will explore it.”
“S’pose sahibs go dere, dey no come back; no man ebber do ’scape
dat cave ob debels.” Then, to frighten us the more (at least, so we
thought), he told us that, during the last nesting-season, three
villagers had, against the wishes of their friends, entered the cavern,
but that they had never since been heard of.
“Bother! what fudge!” cried Martin, rudely. “At any rate, Claud,” he
added, “we can leave the poles here, while we first have a look at the
interior, and so judge for ourselves.”
Accordingly, regardless of the many well-meant warnings, we lighted our
torches and passed through the fissure; and in that instance I was as
wrong-headed or obstinate as my brother, for I led the way. At the time
I felt rather surprised that Prabu, even from the top of the pole at
which he was perched, did not descend and stop our departure; for had
he but glanced downwards, and seen our lighted torches, he must have
known we were about entering the cave terrible even to the most daring
of the nest-hunters. But afterwards I found that the thoughts, both of
Prabu and Kati, were absorbed in their occupation; for, unexpectedly,
they had fallen upon what miners would call a new vein--_i. e._, a
cluster of the finest white or _cock’s nests_. But that you may the
better comprehend the value of their discovery, I must explain that
as an article of commerce, the quality of the nest is determined by
several circumstances; for instance, the nature and situation of the
cave, its extent, but, above all, the time at which the nest is taken.
The best are those gathered in deep, damp caves, and before the birds
have laid their eggs; and in a superlative degree are those of the
cock-birds, who, having a separate establishment from that of their
wives and children, are not so much soiled as those of the lady-birds,
with whom reside the little feathered people. Upon the other hand,
the coarsest and least valuable nests are those obtained after the
birth and short-clothing of the children--these being dark-colored, and
streaked with infantine feathers. I may here notice one singular fact
connected with nest-gathering: it is, that although they are collected
twice a year, providing no unusual and violent injury be offered to the
cavern, they yield as productively as if left altogether unmolested for
two or three years. So, you see, the birds speedily recover from their
fright and indignation at the loss of their homesteads.
But to return to my narrative. Upon entering the opening, we found it
so narrow that it was with difficulty we could walk in single file;
nay, at every step, one shoulder or the other grazed the sides, causing
a most unpleasant sensation--a kind of dread that the walls would
collapse, crushing us between them; and thus contracted did we find
them for a distance of at least a quarter of a mile, but then we came
to an opening of about double the width on the right-hand side; and,
foolish as it may seem, and as it really was, we chose to enter that
path only for its greater width. But no--we had another motive; there
was a slight wind.
“That breeze indicates a large open space somewhere ahead--probably the
cave for which we are in search.”
“We cannot do better, Claud; let us go on,” said my brother. “But
stay,” he added; “for fear we may be suddenly parted, I will light my
torch.”
“No, no,” said I, “mine will be sufficient; keep yours in reserve. It
would be unwise to use two at a time.”
“What a prudent old boy you are, Claud! But go on,” said Martin.
We did go on--and on, until we came to another opening, wider still
than the one we were then in, and also upon the right-hand side.
“Shall we go down here?” said I, doubtfully.
“Yes--always to the right; and keeping that in mind, we shall find no
difficulty in returning,” said Martin.
Again onwards--but about two hundred yards further, finding four
different openings, three upon one side, and one upon the other, I
came to a halt, and expressed my doubts as to the prudence of passing
further; but Martin laughed at my indecision.
“Oh, bother!” said he, “we won’t stop now; this poking about in the
dark is capital fun.”
“Well, then,” I replied, leading the way, “to the right again.”
“By Jingo, here’s a breeze!” exclaimed Martin, as, after about five
minutes, a cold cutting wind whistled through the passage, nearly
extinguishing the torch.
“Yes; and now, I believe, the cave cannot be far away. If, however, we
do not soon fall in with it, I shall return, and that’s a fact.”
“Agreed,” answered my brother. “But go on, we must find this cave
before the light burns too low; for my torch is shorter than yours, and
will scarcely serve to light us back.”
Again we advanced, but now we had to make way against a strong
head-wind. Then, instead of having to walk upon guano, as in all the
other passages, there was beneath us the rock alone, all slimy and
slippery. Moreover, water kept continually dripping from above, by
which we guessed we were beneath the porous bed of a hill-stream. But
now I have not related the greatest difficulties of that passage. Not
level, like the other channels in the rock, it was a rather steep
ascent--not so steep as that which we had climbed, but more slippery,
in consequence of the ever-dripping water, and that, too, from a height
of at least fifty feet. Still keeping onwards, and upwards, holding
my torch so that it threw a light some yard or two ahead, I suddenly
stopped. There was a chasm before us, the darkness of which was
impenetrable.
“I wonder how deep it is,” said Martin, throwing a large stone into it.
But, judging of the great depth by the lapse of time before we could
hear the splashing of the stone in some water at the bottom, I began to
tremble.
“I sha’n’t go any further,” said I.
“Never say die, old fellow; that hole may be very deep, but then we
have to jump across--not down; so here goes.” And before I could
stay him, he stood upon the other side. True, it was not three feet
wide, but, then, I feared, as in fact it proved, that it was but an
indication of others to come. Nevertheless, as my brother had crossed,
I followed; and again, because of being torch-bearer, taking the lead,
went forward. But now we seemed to have reached the apex of this
emboweled hole, for our pathway was downwards, and the water from above
more copious, coming down, in fact, like small rain.
“Stop, Claud,” cried my brother, suddenly. “I think I can hear the
rustling of wings, as if of frightened birds.”
Listening for a few seconds, I said, “I think so too, Martin; then we
can’t be far from the cave. Come along.” But scarcely had I spoken the
words when there came a sudden roar,--a gush of wind,--and we were in
total darkness. Moreover, by some mishap, the torch itself slipped from
my hand into a pool of water.
“Wait, Claud--don’t move; I will light my torch,” said Martin.
“No--no; _you_ wait one minute--mine is not far off.” So saying, I
walked stealthily downwards, trying to feel for the torch with my
feet. I must have walked, I suppose, about three yards, when suddenly
the ground seemed to recede from under me. I fell forward--a violent
blow on the head--my ears sang, and like a shuttlecock I seemed to be
knocked to and fro, from one battledore to another. Yet all this must
have been the sensation of a few seconds.