_In Which I Pursue My Studies as a Troglodyte._
My instinct had been right in giving way to my drowsiness, for I woke up
from my sleep a new man. How long I had been there, of course, I had no
means of knowing; but I fancy I must have slept a good while, for I felt
so refreshed and full of determination to tackle my escape in good
earnest.
It is remarkable how rest sharpens one's perceptions. When we are weary,
we only half see what we look at, and the very thing we are desperately
seeking may be right under our nose and we quite unaware.
So I had hardly relit my lantern, when its rays revealed something which
it seemed impossible for any one with eyes, however weary, to have
overlooked.
In the right-hand corner of the little cavern, five or six feet above my
head, was a dark hole, like the entrance to a tunnel, or, more properly
speaking, a good-sized burrow--for it was scarcely more than a yard in
diameter. It seemed to be something more than a mere cavity in the rock,
for, when I flashed my lantern up to it, I could see no end. To climb
up to it, at first, seemed difficult; but providentially, I had a stout
claspknife in my pocket, and with this I cut a step or two in the porous
rock, and so managed it. Lying flat on my stomach, I looked in.
It was, as I had thought, a narrow natural tunnel, snaking through the
rocks--as often happens in those curious fantastic coral formations--for
all the world, indeed, as if it had been made ages ago by some monstrous
primeval serpent, a giant worm-hole no less, leading--Heaven alone knew
where.
There was just room to crawl along it on all fours, so I started
cautiously, making sure I had my precious matches, and my jackknife all
safe.
After all, I said to myself, I was no worse off than thousands of poor
devils in mines. I had myself snaked through just such passages in
coal-mines. Still, I confess that the choking sense of being shut in
this earth-smelling tube, like a fox in a drain, and the sudden
realisation of the appalling tonnage of superincumbent earth above
me--liable at any moment to loosen, and, as with a giant thumb, press
out my poor little insect existence--made the sweat pour from me and my
heart stand still. I had to shut my eyes for a moment and command myself
back to calmness and courage, before I could go on. Above all things I
had to blindfold my imagination, the last companion for such a
situation.
After this first flurry of fear, I went on crawling in a methodical way,
allowing no thought to enter my mind that did not concern the yard or
two of earth immediately ahead of me. So I progressed, I should say, for
some twenty or thirty yards when, to my inexpressible relief, I came
out, still on all fours, onto a spreading floor; then, standing up, I
perceived that I was in a cave of considerable loftiness, and some forty
feet or so across. It was good to breathe again such comparatively free
air; yet, as I looked about and made the circuit of the walls, I saw
that I had but exchanged one prison for another. There was this
difference, however: whereas there had only been one passageway from the
cave I had just left, there were several similar outlets from that in
which I now stood. Two or three of them proved to be nothing but alcoves
that ran a few yards and then stopped.
But there were two close by each other which seemed to continue on.
There was not much choice between them, but, as both made in the same
direction, as far as I could judge the direction in which I had so far
progressed, I decided to take the larger one. It proved to be a passage
much like the tunnel I had already traversed, only a little roomier,
and therefore it was easier going, and it, too, brought me out, as had
the other, on another cavern--but one considerably larger in extent.
Here, however, I speedily perceived that it was not a case of one
cavern, but several--opening out, by natural archways one into another.
I walked eagerly through them, scanning their ceilings for sign of some
outlet into the upper air; but in vain. Still, after the strangling
embrace of those tunnels, it was good to have so much space to breathe
and walk about in. In fact, I had stumbled on something like a Monte
Cristo suite of underground apartments. And here for a moment I released
my imagination from her blinders, and allowed her to play around these
strange halls. And in one of her suggestions there was some comfort. It
was hardly likely that caverns of such extent had waited for me to
discover them. They must surely have been known to Teach, or whatever
buccaneer it was who had occupied the ruined mansion not so very far
above-ground. What better place could be conceived for his business? It
was even likely--more than likely, almost certain--that there was some
secret passageway connecting this series of caves with the old house--if
one could only find it. And so the dear creature prattled on to me,
till I thought it was time to blindfold her again--and return to
business.
Still, there was something in what she had said, and I set about the
more carefully to examine every nook and corner. And, if I didn't find
anything so splendid as she had dreamed, I did presently find evidence
that, as she had said, I was not the first human being to stand where
now I stood. Two iron staples imbedded in one of the walls, with rusting
chains and manacles attached, were melancholy proof of one of the uses
to which the place had once been put. Melancholy for certain unhappy
souls long since free of all mortal chains, but for me--need I say
it?--exceedingly joyous. For if there had been a way to bring prisoners
here, it was none the less evident that there had been a way to take
them out. But how and where? Again I searched every nook and cranny.
There was no sign of entrance anywhere.
Then a thought occurred to me. What if the entrance were after the
manner of a mediæval oubliette--through the ceiling! There was a thought
indeed to send one's hopes soaring. I ran in my eagerness through one
cavern after another, holding my lantern aloft. That must be the
solution. There could be no other way. I sought and sought, but alas! it
was a false hope, and I threw myself down in a corner in despair,
deciding that the prisoners must have been forced to crawl in as I
had--though it was hardly like jailers to put themselves to such
inconvenience.
I leaned back against the wall and gazed listlessly upward. Next moment
I had bounded to my feet again. Surely I had seen some short regular
lines running up the face of the rock, like a ladder. I raised my
lantern. Sure enough, they were iron rounds set in the face of the rock,
and they mounted up till I lost them in the obscurity, for the cave here
must have been forty feet high. Blessed heaven! I was saved!
But alas! they did not begin till some six feet above my head, and the
wall was sheer. How was I to reach the lowest rung? The rock was too
sheer for me to cut steps in, as I had done farther back. I looked about
me. Again the luck was with me. In one of the caves I had noticed some
broken pieces of fallen rock. They were terribly heavy, but despair lent
me strength, and after an hour or two's work, I had managed to roll
several of them to the foot of the ladder, and--with an effort of which
I would not have believed myself capable--had been able to build them
one on top of another against the wall. So, I found myself able to grasp
the lowest rung with my hands. Then, fastening the lantern round my
neck with my necktie, I prepared to mount.
The climb was not difficult, once I had managed to get my feet on the
first rung of the ladder, but there was always the chance that one of
the rungs might have rusted loose with time, in which case, of course,
it would have given way in my grasp, and I should have been precipitated
backward to certain death below.
However, the man who had mortised them had done an honest piece of work,
and they proved as firm as on the day they were placed there. Up and up
I went, till I must have been forty feet above the floor, and, then, as
I neared the roof, instead of coming to a trap door, as I had
conjectured, I found that the ladder came to an end at the edge of a
narrow ledge, running along the ceiling much as a clerestory runs near
the roof of some old churches. On to this I managed to climb. It was
barely a yard wide, and the impending roof did not permit of one's
standing erect. It was a dizzy situation, and it seemed safest to crawl
along on all fours, holding the lantern in front of me. Presently it
brought me up sharp in a narrow recess. It had come to an end.
Yes! but imagine my joy! it had come to an end at a low archway rudely
cut in the rock. Deep set in the archway was a stout wooden door. My
first thought was that I was trapped again, but, to my infinite surprise
and gratitude, it proved to be slightly ajar, and a vigorous push sent
it grinding back on its hinges. What next! I wondered. At all events, I
was no longer lost in the bowels of the earth; step by step, I was
coming nearer to the frontiers of humanity.
But I was certainly not prepared for what next met my eyes, as I pushed
through the low doorway with my lantern, and looked around. Yes! indeed,
man had certainly been here, man, too, very purposeful and businesslike.
I was in a sort of low narrow gallery, some forty feet long, to which
the arching rock made a crypt-like ceiling. At my first glance, I saw
that there was another door at the far end similar to the one I had
entered by; and on the left side of the gallery, built of rough stones
from the low ceiling to the floor, was a series of compartments, each
with locked wooden door. They were strong and grim looking, and might
have been taken for prison cells, or family vaults, or possibly
wine-bins. The massive locks were red with rust, and there was plainly
no possibility of my opening them.
On the other side of the gallery there was a litter of old chains, and
some boards, probably left over from the doors. Yes! and there were two
old flintlock guns, and several cutlasses, all eaten away with rust,
also a rough seaman's chest open and falling to pieces. At the sight of
that, a wild thought flashed through my brain. What if--Good God!--What
if this was John Teach's treasury!--behind those grim doors. I threw
myself with all my force against one and then the other. For the moment
I forgot that my paramount business was to escape. But I might as well
have hurled myself against the solid rock. And, at that moment, I
noticed that the place was darker than it had been. My lantern was going
out. In a moment or two, I should be in the pitch dark, and I had
discovered that the door at the end of the gallery was as solid as the
others.
I was to be trapped, after all; and I pictured myself slowly dying there
of hunger--the pangs of which I was already beginning to feel--and some
one, years hence, finding me there, a mouldering skeleton--some one who
would break open those doors, uncover those gleaming hoards, and
moralise on the irony of my end; condemned to die there of starvation,
with the treasure I had so long sought on the other side of those
unyielding doors. Old Tom's words suddenly flashed over me, and I could
feel my hair literally beginning to rise. "There never was a buried
treasure yet that didn't claim its victim." Great God!--and I was to be
the ghost, and keep guard in this terrible tomb till the next dead man
came along to relieve me of my sentry duty!
Frantically I turned up the wick of my lantern at the thought--but it
was no use; it was plainly going out. I examined my match-box; I had
still a dozen or so matches left. And then my eye fell on that shattered
chest. There were those boards, too. At all events I could build a fire
and make torches of slivers of wood, so long as the wood lasted.
And then I had an idea. Why not make the fire against the door at the
end of the gallery, and so burn my way through. Bravo! My spirits rose
at the thought, and I set to at once--splitting some small kindling with
my knife. In a few minutes I had quite a sprightly little fire going at
the bottom of the door; but I saw that I should have to be extravagant
with my wood if the fire was to be effective. However, it was neck or
nothing; so I piled on beams and boards till my fire roared like a
furnace, and presently I had the joy of seeing it begin to take hold of
the door--which, after a short time, began to crackle and splutter in a
very cheering fashion.
Whatever lay beyond, it was evident that I should soon be able to break
my way through the obstacle, and, indeed, so it proved; for, presently,
I used one of the boards as a battering ram, and, to my inexpressible
joy, it went crashing through, with a shower of sparks, and it was but
the work of a few more minutes before the whole door fell flaming down,
and I was able to leap through the doorway into the darkness on the
other side.
As I stood there, peering ahead, and holding aloft a burning
stick--which proved, however, a poor substitute for my lantern--a
wonderful sound smote my ears. I could not believe it, and my knees
shook beneath me. It was the sound of the sea.
Yes! it was no illusion. It was the sound that the sea makes singing and
echoing through hollow caves--the sound I heard that night as I stood at
the moonlit door of Calypso's cavern, and saw that vision which my heart
nearly broke to remember. Calypso! O Calypso! where was she at this
moment? Pray God that she was indeed safe, as her father had said. But I
had to will her from my mind, to keep from going mad.
And my poor torch had gone out, having, however, given me light enough
to see that the door which I had just burnt through let out on to a
narrow platform on the side of a rock that went slanting down into a
chasm of blackness, through which, as in a great shell, boomed that
murmuring of the sea. It had a perilous ugly look, and it was plain that
it would be foolhardy to attempt it at the moment without a light; and
my fire was dying down. Besides, I was beginning to feel lightheaded and
worn out, partly from lack of food, no doubt.
As there was no food to be had, I recalled the old French proverb, "He
eats who sleeps"--or something to that effect--and I determined to
husband my strength once more with a brief rest. However, as I turned to
throw some more wood on my fire--preparing to indulge myself with a
little camp-fire cheerfulness as I dozed off--my eyes fell once more on
that grim line of locked doors; and my curiosity, and an idea, made me
wakeful again. I had burned down one door--why not another? Why not,
indeed?
So I raked over my fire to the family vault nearest to me, and presently
had it roaring and licking against the stout door. It was, apparently,
not so solid as the gallery door had been. At all events, it kindled
more easily, and it was not long before I had the satisfaction of
battering that down too.
As I did so, I caught sight of something in the interior that made me
laugh aloud and behave generally like a madman. Of course, I didn't
believe my eyes--but they persisted in declaring, nevertheless, that
there in front of me was a great iron-bound oaken chest, to begin with.
It might not, of course, contain anything but bones--but it might--! The
thing was too absurd. I must have fallen asleep--must be already
dreaming! But no! I was labouring with all my strength to open it with
one of those rusty cutlasses. It was a tough job, but my strength was as
the strength of ten, for the old treasure-hunting lust was upon me, and
I had forgotten everything else in the world.
At last, with a great wooden groan, as though its heart were breaking at
having to give up its secret at last, it crashed open. I fell on my
knees as though I had been struck by lightning, for it was literally
brimming over with silver and gold pieces--doubloons and pieces of
eight; English and French coins, too--guineas and louis d'or: "all"--as
Tobias's manuscript had said--"all good money."
For a while I knelt over it, dazed and blinded, lost; then I slowly
plunged my hands into it, and let the pieces pour and pour through them,
literally bathing them in gold and silver, as I had read of misers
doing.
Meanwhile, I talked insanely to myself, made all sorts of inarticulate
noises, sang shreds of old songs. Rising at length, I capered up and
down the gallery, talking aloud to the "King" as though he had been
there, and anon breaking out again into absurd song, roaring it out at
the top of my voice, laughing and war-whooping between:
"There was chest on chest of Spanish gold,
With a ton of plate in the middle hold,
And the cabin's riot of loot untold."
Then suddenly I broke out into an Irish jig--never having had any notion
of doing such a thing before.
In fact I behaved as I have read of men doing, whom a sudden fortune has
bereft of reason. For the time, at all events, I was a gibbering madman.
Certainly, there was to be no sleep for me that night! But, in the full
tide of my frenzy, I suddenly noticed something that brought me up
sharp. Out beyond the doorway it was growing light. It was only a dim
tremulous suffusion of it, indeed, but it was real daylight--oozing in
from somewhere or other--the blessed, blessed, daylight! God be
praised!