Again the hope which animated our breasts chased away the sense of
depression and fatigue, as, lighting our last candle to obtain a better
light, we clambered as rapidly as we could high up towards where the
water came roaring from its vast culvert, just as with a loud shriek a
bird flew out, like some creature of shadow-land, from a niche which had
hitherto escaped our notice.
The next moment, after a flit round the amphitheatre, it gave another
shriek, and we saw it re-enter the niche and disappear.
That there was an outlet to the upper world there we now had no doubt,
but the question arose which exit presented the least peril--the ascent
to this niche right over the arch of the torrent, or the way back by the
vault of the troubled waters, to swim for our lives down the little
river.
We did not pause long to consider, but, drawing our breath hard, sought
to climb up to where the bird had disappeared.
We needed the activity and power of some animal born to a climbing life,
for it was a terrible task, over slippery, spray-bedewed rocks, that
seemed composed of ice. Our feet and hands slipped again and again, and
more than once I felt that I must fall upon the bow of that torrent of
inky water, at first by our side, soon right beneath us, and so be
plunged into the seething cauldron below.
I found myself wondering whether, if I did so, my body would be forced
through along some subterranean way to the vault of the troubled waters,
from thence float out slowly along the little river, and so to the mouth
of the cave and the outer sunshine.
Such thoughts were enough to unnerve one; but, bit by bit, we climbed on
in safety, handing the candle from one to the other, and ever and anon
stretching out a helping hand, till, how I cannot tell, we clung at
length right over the falling torrent, with a piece of rock, smooth as
the polishing of ages could make it, between us and the niche, which now
proved to be a good-sized split separating a couple of rocks.
"You go first, Mas'r Harry," Tom whispered, with his mouth close to my
ear. "I'll stand firm, and you can climb up my shoulders, and then lend
me a hand."
I prepared to start, handing him the one candle we now had alight, when
I gave utterance to a cry of despair; for the linen band which had
crossed my breast, and supported the wallet, had been worn through by
the constant climbing, and I suppose must have broken when I was making
this last ascent. At all events, the wallet was gone--plunged, I
expect, into the torrent, and bearing with it the flint, steel,
tinder-box, and matches; so that, should any accident befall our one
light, we should be in the horrible darkness of the place.
"Never mind, Mas'r Harry," said Tom. "It ain't no use crying after
spilt milk. Up you go, sir."
With failing heart and knitted brow I exerted myself, climbed to Tom's
hips, as he clung to the rock and lighted me; then to his shoulders;
stood there for a moment trembling, and then struggled into the cleft,
turned round, lay down in a horrible position, sloping towards the
torrent, with my head two feet lower than my knees, and then stretched
out my hands to Tom.
"Can't reach, Mas'r Harry," he said, after one or two despairing trials.
"You'll have to go and leave me. See if you can get out and fetch
help."
For a moment I felt stunned at this unforeseen termination of our
efforts, for there really had seemed hope now, unless this fresh passage
should prove too narrow to let us pass.
I did not answer Tom, but drew myself up again to think; when, taking
off my coat, I rolled it round and round, laid fast hold of the collar,
and then, once more lying down, I lowered the coat to Tom.
"Can you reach that?" I said.
"No, Mas'r Harry--not by a foot," said Tom gloomily, his words being
shouted, as the roar of the torrent beneath us swept his voice away.
He stood in a position of awful peril: a false step, and he would be
plunged into the torrent; and as I looked down at his upturned face and
the flickering candle, I wondered how I could have ever dared to stand
there myself.
"Can you reach it now?" I said, lowering myself a little more.
But his answer came in a dull, muffled, despairing monotone:
"No."
I wriggled and shuffled my body a little more forward, forcing my boot
toes into a crevice as I did so, for it seemed that now the slightest
strain would draw me over the precipice. But there was no other
resource: Tom must have help; and I lay shivering there as, with an
upward spring, the candle between his teeth, Tom clutched my coat, I
shuddering the while, and wondering whether the cloth would give way, or
whether I should be drawn down.
We were looking straight into each other's eyeballs, lit by the
guttering candle, as, with trial after trial, exerting the great
muscular strength in his arms, Tom climbed higher and higher till he
could touch my hands, my arms, and then hold on by my neck, when he
stopped panting, just as, in his convulsive efforts, his teeth met
through the candle, ground through the wick, and the upper portion fell
far below into the torrent to leave us in that awful darkness.
"Hold fast, Mas'r Harry!" Tom hissed in my ear. "Crook your hands.
No! Clasp 'em together, to give me a foothold."
"Tom!" I groaned, "I'm slipping. I can hold on no longer."
"A moment--a moment, Mas'r Harry," he cried.
I clasped my fingers together, when, bending his body into a half
circle, he got one foot into my hands, forced himself rapidly up,
staying my downward progress of inch after inch, as the weight of his
body pressed me to the rock; but as he turned to hold me in his turn, it
was just as I felt myself going faster and faster, gliding head
downwards towards the torrent.
Another struggle, and, wet and bleeding, I was by Tom's side, for him to
hold tightly by one of my hands, as with the other he felt his way along
slowly for some yards, when once more we sank upon the rocky floor, to
lie panting, our breath drawn in hysterical sobs, and a darkness around
that was too fearful even to contemplate.
Our despair was such that we could find no words; but at last Tom said,
in a voice that I could hardly hear for the roar of the torrent, which
seemed to be here condensed by the narrow passage:
"Mas'r Harry, I'll go first; follow close behind, and crawl."
His words gave me energy, and we set off, crawling slowly, now upwards,
now downwards, feeling every foot of the way, lest some new peril should
lie in our path. The roar of the torrent rose and fell as we crept
away, till by slow degrees it became fainter, fading to quite a soft
murmur; but still no new horror assailed us. The dread darkness was
forgotten in the hope that shed a light into our hearts, as foot by foot
we progressed through what was sometimes a narrow passage, sometimes a
wide vault, as we could tell by the echoing of our voices from its
arched roof. In one of these, too, our ears were saluted by the shrieks
of birds and the rushing of wings--a fact which told us we could not be
very far from the light of day; but progress was so slow that I often
despaired of seeing that light again.
Often and often I could have lain down and cried like a child, and it
required no weak effort to keep my emotion back.
"Seems to me, Mas'r Harry," said Tom at last, "this is a very big place
we're in, for the more I try about, the less I seem able to get on.
Shall we rest a bit?"
Had Tom said, "Shall we keep on?" I should have made the same
reply--"Yes." And then, as we extended our aching limbs upon the soft
soil which covered the floor of the cave in this part, a delicious sense
of tranquillity stole over me, and almost instantaneously I sank into a
deep dreamless sleep.