Presently my little comrade (as I call her) got up from her chair, and seating herself beside me on my stone stool, laid her hand very tenderly on my arm, and says she gently:
"You will tell me what is amiss, Benet, won't you?"
Upon this I told her my trouble, and how I must blame myself night and day for not having started to get back into the Baraquan when the rains first gave over and the water began to sink.
"Why," says she, "'twas too late; for sure the water must have ceased to overflow from the great river before it ceased to flow into the lake, and, therefore, we must have found at the entrance to the Baraquan just such a deposit of impassable mud as lies at the entrance of the lake. Thus, had we started when your conscience very unwisely bade you, we should have been finely served, for there must we have stuck betwixt two barriers, neither able to go forward nor to get back. Nor do I see," adds she, "how we were to have mended matters, for it had been madness to start before the rains ceased, and 'twas too late when they had."
In this manner did she reason with me, to my ineffable comfort, for naught that she urged was less cogent than tenderly considerate. But what delighted me even more than getting this heavy load of responsibility taken from my shoulders was the evidence of her admirable judgment and good sense in this matter; for though her wealth of goodness beggared me indeed by comparison, I was better pleased a hundredfold to admire her wisdom and feeling than if I had suddenly discovered myself blessed with these excellent qualities.
"Cousin," says I, "the justice of your conclusions leaves me no ground for regrets, save that I had not previously consulted you in this business."
"Why," says she with a merry laugh, "that is a regret I would not remove, for it may prompt you not to leave your 'little comrade' at home in perplexity next time you go a-boating in the dark."
After that we went together day after day across the lake to examine the ground; but 'twas no better on the seventh day than on the first, but worse, for then we gave up all hope of the ground ever getting firm enough to traverse. As I feared, the springs and rills from the hills kept it continually moist, and the ground, being nothing but filthy ooze, gave no hold whatever to the foot, as I found to my cost, when I attempted it, sinking up to my middle ere I had gone two paces, and with the greatest difficulty getting back with no worse misfortune. In addition to this, as the sun grew in power, this slough began to fester and putrefy, throwing off stinking vapors that raised our gorge. But that which made this pestilent belt more abhorrent to my lady then all else was the prodigious number of great worms and hideous reptiles that came hither to writhe and wallow in the foul slime. So (as I say) at the end of a week we decided that no issue by that part was possible.
And now I began to cast my eye at the mountains that hemmed us in, for I was bent upon getting away, and would harbor no thought of staying there, however I might be tempted by inclination that way; and spying one part which looked more broken than any other, I begged my lady to let me go and see if it were any way passable. But she would not hear of my going alone, though willing enough to go anywhere if she might share the peril; so provided with a store of food for the day and a stout stick apiece, we started off early one morning to make the venture.
For the first few hours we got on well enough, by the help of our sticks and such shrubs as grew in the fissures and cracks; but when we reached that part where the mountain was less broken and no herbs grew, our troubles began; and to tell of all our difficulties—how we had to leap like goats in one part, and climb with hands and feet like cats in another; how we had to go back and try new ways time out of mind—would be tedious indeed; but, to cut this matter short, we came about three in the afternoon to where the mountain rose sheer up on one side, and lay in a great smooth flat table, inclining towards the lake, on the other, and there was no way to go forward but upon this sloping table. And here I would have my lady desist from further adventuring; "for," says I, "if our foot slip, naught can save us from sliding down this rock as down the roof of a house, and shooting ourselves a thousand feet on to the crags below."
"But our foot must not slip, Benet," says she. "And there is no more danger here than we have encountered before."
Still I hesitated, but she, thinking I was concerned only for her, urged me to go on; and I, on the other hand, considering that this was our last and only chance of escape, at length consented, only bargaining that she should give me her hand to hold.
"Ay," says she, "that will I willingly; for if you go I have no mind to stay behind."
"Nor I neither," says I. And so, recommending ourselves to Providence, we went forward with our hands locked together.
Now went we along in this sort without accident a hundred yards, maybe, and then to my horror (I being ahead, with my eyes fixed on the rock under my feet) I discovered that we had come to the end of that sloping rock, and that another step would have plunged me down a great yawning fissure that showed no bottom; all was black below.
"What is it, Benet?" says my lady, as I came to a stand, for she dared not take her eyes from the ground, lest she should be seized with a vertigo.
"We must go back," says I quietly; "there is an abyss beside me which we can not cross."
"Very well," says she after a moment's pause. "Tell me when you are ready."
"We will wait a minute till your strength comes back," says I, for I felt her fingers quivering, despite my close hold.
"Nay, let us go at once, lest my courage fail," says she faintly. "But have a care when you come to the little ledge: it is loose; I felt it slide under my foot."
"Let me change places, that I may go first," says I.
"No, no!" cries she in an agony, as I was about to move; "for Heaven's sake, do not venture down the slope to pass me—do not leave go of my hand."
"So be it," says I; "but do prythee await till you feel stouter of heart." And then I tried to restore her confidence by all the means I could; but indeed my own heart quailed within me. For to realize our terrible position, you must fancy yourself standing on the steep roof of the highest cathedral, with no parapet to arrest your fall, and one of the slates so loose that it may slip under your foot, no matter how carefully you step.
"Thank you, Benet," says my dear lady. "You have brought my courage back. Come, let us go."
So with that she begins that backward journey; but now, instead of looking to the rock under my own feet, I was casting my eyes to my dear lady's for that loose rock she had spoken of. Presently I caught sight of it—a great slab that lay on the slope, with no space behind for a footing, and too wide to step across. And seeing this I sought with an eager fury for some means of stopping our fall if this slab should slide under our feet, but I could spy nothing but a fissure behind the slab, into which I might by chance thrust my arm in falling.
Now scarcely had my eye made this out when my dear lady stepped on the slab, and, to my sickening horror, I perceived it tilt a little, being very nicely poised; and doubtless had I set my foot firmly upon it at that moment, our combined weight would have held it firm and stationary, as it had in passing over it before, until it was released of my weight. But this did not occur to my slow wit at the right time—nay, rather, seeing this movement, I held back, and would have drawn my lady away. This hesitation (and maybe a little jerk I gave in my terror to her hand) was fatal, for ere I could cry aloud to her the great slab slid, and my dear lady, in striving to keep her balance, lost her footing and fell; then seeing that I was like to be drawn down the slope myself, when nothing in the world could have saved us from sliding with the slab to perdition, I threw myself on my face, and, flinging aside my stick, thrust my arm down that rent in the rock of which I have made mention. Thus I lay sprawled on that steep incline, half the length of my left arm wedged in the fissure above my head, and my right hand linked to my Lady Biddy's as she lay prone upon the slab.
My sole thought was to hold my dear lady, and this was no slight matter, for the edge of the slab had caught in her waist-belt, so that for a moment she and that great mass of rock hung, as I may say, on my bent arm. In that moment the bone of my forearm snapped like a dry stick, and indeed I thought my muscles must be torn asunder also, so sharp and strong was the strain upon it; but, thanks be to God, my lady's belt bursting, the slab slid from beneath her, and so was I relieved of that prodigious weight.
We heard the slab screech as it grated down the slope; then followed an interval of silence, in which one might have counted a score, followed by a great crash as the rock fell upon the crags below, smiting my soul with awe to think how we had surely been hurled down with it to our utter destruction but for a mercy of Providence.
But my arm was powerless to draw myself up, and fearing the torment of it might take away my senses, so that I might let my lady's hand slip, I called to her.
"Cousin," says I, "are you hurt sorely?"
"No," replies she faintly, "only frightened, Benet."
"God be praised!" says I. "And so do, if you may, roll hither and climb up by my body to the rock above, for I have no strength left."
And this she did, but with great pain and trouble, for the dear soul trembled in every limb, and was faint from the shock. I helped her as well as I might with my right arm, yet could I do but little for my own sickness. However, she presently got strength from a source which never fails to invigorate such hearts as hers; for, coming as high as my shoulder, she cries:
"Dear Benet, your arm is broken"; and with that she quits my body and starts to her feet, which had she not dared to do under other conditions.
"Nay," says I, "take no heed of that, but do place your feet upon that crevice, which will give you a good hold."
"Ay, surely," says she, stepping up briskly. "Now may I help you, my poor Benet; give me your right hand, and have no fear. See how strong I am!"
Indeed, in helping me to my feet she proved herself as lusty as any man; and in getting from that horrid slope to a place of safety I owed more to her a hundredfold than she to me.
Of her readiness and tenderness in making a sling to bear my arm; of her gentle, encouraging words as she led the way down the rocks to our cavern, ever choosing the way most direct and least difficult for me; of her thoughtfulness in running forward to fetch me cool water from a spring to sup; of these things, I say, and many others, I have no words to speak, for no words that I know of can do her justice.
When we were got into our cavern, my dear lady, of her own hand and wit, cut some strips of bark to serve as splints, and some of that grass which she used to shred for threads; then ripping up the sleeve of my doublet she, with her gentle, soft fingers, set the bone of my broken arm, and bound it up in the bark as ably and well as any clever surgeon could have served me. After that, seeing that the sweat of agony stood on my face, despite the joy it gave me to feel the touch of her sweet hand, and to note how admirably skillful she was in this business (as in all else), she would have me lie down awhile; and to this end she spread one of our mats on the floor of our living-room, that I might get the benefit of the air, and made up a pillow for my head with a bundle of soft herbs that we kept in store for the conies; and scarce had I laid my head down with a look and a little murmur to express my heartfelt gratitude (for I had no power to speak) when the things about me seemed to swim round and round, and I lost consciousness.
I lay in a foolish dream some time (though what absurdity was in my mind I cannot recall), and waking at length to my proper senses, the first thing I observed was that something cool and soft pressed my forehead, and looking up I perceived my little comrade kneeling beside me, with grave wistfulness in her deep eyes.
"What o'clock is it?" says I, like any fool.
"Nay, never mind about the hour, dear Benet," says she tenderly; and with that she shifts her hand, which was that I felt so gratefully cool on my forehead. But she shifted it only to set the other in its place, whereupon I sighed with comfort. Seeing I was pleased, she smiled sweetly, and says she:
"D'ye know me, Benet?"
"Ay, cousin," says I, "why should I not?"
"'Tis three days since you last called me 'cousin.' Your mind has been wandering away from me."
"Is it possible?" says I.
"I feared you were going to leave me here alone for ever," says she, her voice trembling, and her eyes twinkling with a tear. "But you've come back to me after all," adds she with a faint laugh, and a little gulp as she turned aside to dash the tears away with her unoccupied hand.
"God be praised!" says I.
"Amen, amen, amen!" says she with passion. "And now do you taste of this broth I have made."
So I quickly made a shift to sit up, with her help, and eagerly emptied the gourd of the broth she had prepared; for not only was I prodigious hungry, but a stout determination seized me that I would overcome my weakness, and give this dear, dear companion no further anxiety.
"Give me some more if you have it, cousin," says I.
"To be sure I have more," says she. "What sort of a housewife should I be if my larder were empty when I expected company?"
Watching her narrowly as she hurried herself to refill the gourd, I observed, with a keen pang of sorrow, that her sweet face was thin and worn with care, albeit her fair countenance was overspread with a glow of happy contentment.
She bade me lie down again when I had emptied the second bowl of broth; and then, to please me, she brought her breakfast (for 'twas early morning), and ate it sitting on the ground beside me, which was her will and not mine. And when I asked her what had been amiss with me, she told me I had been light-headed, and would for ever be a-starting off to find my uncle Sir Bartlemy, though too weak to rise, and obedient to her hand, though I knew her not. "But," says she, "since yesterday morning you have had no strength even to speak, and I have heard no sound but—" She stopped, but I knew by the sound that rose from her tender bosom it was her own sobs she had heard. "But all that is past," says she cheerily; "and now you will soon be well again, and strong, won't you?"
"Ay," says I, "I promise you I'll be master of those mountains in a week."
"Benet," says she earnestly, "you must grant me a favor."
"With all my soul," says I.
"Then promise me you will never again essay to pass those terrible mountains. Promise!" says she. "And this also—that you will not approach that pestilent marsh, for I do think 'tis the fetid mists from the corruption there which has thrown you into this sickness."
"You ask too much of me," says I, "for how, but by one of these ways, can I hope to carry you hence? You have not reflected on that."
"Yes, I have," says she quietly. "I know that I am asking you to stay with me in the captivity to which our fortunes have brought us. Have we not sought by all the means in our power to escape? If Providence willed us to go hence, should we be thus cruelly rebuffed? Is it not better, Benet, to live here together than to perish singly? Oh, I cannot bear the thought of that. To be left alone—no one to speak to—no voice to cheer me! Have we been unhappy? Can we ever be without comfort, striving each to make the other happy? We may yet improve our cabin: the summer is at hand."
"Say not another word," says I; "I ask no more than to continue as we have lived." Indeed, I was like to have become light-headed again with the prospect revealed to me and the overflow of joy in my heart; and this tumult of emotion threw me back again, not yet being quit of my fever, so that I lay down exhausted in a kind of lethargy, from which I could not arouse myself even to taste the food from my dear lady's hand, which she has prepared for me. Nay, towards evening I felt as if my last hour had come for weakness, and when she, kneeling by my side, laid her sweet, cool hand upon my head as before, asking me how I did, 'twas with much ado I could open my eyes to reply by a look that I was very easy in my mind, as indeed I was, suffering no sort of pain, but only a very sweet dreaminess to think she was to be my companion always. So I lay with my drowsiness growing on me, never moving a hand-stir till the moon rose and shone upon me through the mouth of the cavern, where doubtless I looked like one dead, as I think, for my dear lady, still kneeling beside me, began to weep softly, which, though I heard it, I could find no check by any hopeful sign, because of my heaviness. Then, taking my hand and bending low, she murmurs with a broken voice, and such disconsolate tones as were enough to move the heart of the dead:
"You won't leave me, Benet dear—you won't leave me!"
And at that I managed to open my eyes and say "No"; therewith making bold to lift her hand a little. Then she, seeing what I would be at, aided me, so that I laid her lovely hand on my mouth and kissed it.
So, animated with a new vigor, and a sturdy determination that I would not yield to this faintness, but would master it for her sake, I contrived to ask her if she would make me a potion of those herbs the Ingas had given us, which I thought would do me good.
"I have it here ready," says she, "if you can but raise your head to drink of it. Wait; let me slip my arm under your head and around your neck—so."
In this tender fashion she helped me to rise, and set the gourd to my lips, from which I drank the brew to the bottom, which was as good as any apothecaries' drugs, and full as bitter.
This potion, together with my persevering resolution, did me a world of good, so that in a couple of hours I felt strong enough to get up on my feet, if needs be; perceiving which, my lady acceded to my entreaty, and laid herself down to take some repose, which she needed sorely, for I doubt if she had closed an eye all through my sickness. For my own part, I had no longer inclination to sleep, but lay devising means for improving our cavern as my lady had suggested, for one thing resolving I would try to make a partition to my lady's chamber that would let in the light, and yet secure her privacy, which I proposed to do with a sash of canes stretched over with bladder-skin; "and thereon," thinks I, "may she paint some pretty devices with such juice-stains as we can get, that it may have all the pleasant gay look of a painted glass window."
'Twas a great pleasure to me devising all this, but the telling of it the next morning to my lady was yet greater joy, for the delight she showed in the scheme. She brought her chair up, and sitting beside me listened with sparkling eyes a whole hour to all I had to say on this trumpery; but no matter seemed paltry to her which interested me, and I do believe she would have given her serious thought to discourse on a fiddlestick's end if my mind had been bent that way, so entire was her sympathy.
"Benet," says she in the end, "I do think there is no man in the world so ingenious as you in the service of a friend, nor so unselfish neither. For while you thought I wished to quit this place, naught could exhaust your patience in seeking the means; and now that you find I would stay, your first moments of consciousness are devoted to making my life here agreeable. Nay, it seems to me that you have overcome your sickness because you saw that my happiness, my very life, depended on it."
"Why, so I have," said I; and therewith I told her how that I had taken that resolution to live when I felt myself sinking into the heaviness of death.
She looked at me with kind, wondering eyes as I spoke, and for some moments sat in silence, her hands folded on her knees, and bending towards me. Then says she, "Oh! Benet, if we all strove to live for our friends as readily as we offer to die for them, how much more should we merit their love!"
Soon after this she took her bow and arrows and went off in the canoe to seek food for our supper in the wooded slope; but the dear girl did so steer her course that I might as long as possible see her from where I lay by the mouth of the cavern.
As soon as I was strong enough to get about, I went daily with my lady into the woods a-hunting; but as yet my left arm was useless, though getting strong apace, so that I could but play the part of squire to her. But, Lord! to see how dexterous she was with the bow, did give me more pride and pleasure than any of my own prowess. Yet from the tenderness of her love for all living things she was averse from this practice, which we men regard as an amusing pastime, and therefore would she kill nothing but that which was necessary to our existence.
I remember one day, when she had drawn her bow to shoot a dove that sat pluming its wings on a bough, she relaxed the string and returned the arrow to her sheaf.
"'Tis a fine fat pigeon," says I, "and we have naught for our supper: why have you spared it?"
"Do you not see her mate in the bough above?" says she. And so we supped on fruit and cassavy that night; but with no regret.
However, if there were moments of pain in these expeditions, there were long hours of delight; for now the woods were as like to Paradise as the mind of man can conceive, nothing lacking to enchant the senses; and to speak of all the rare and beautiful flowers and fruits we carried home to garnish our cavern would be an endless undertaking. And as these woods, valleys, and purling streams were like Paradise, so was I like a blessed soul therein; and I doubt if many men in all their lives sum up so much pure joy as every minute yielded to me. Here, day after day, I strolled beside my dear lady in the shade of delicate flowers, enveloped in sweet odors, and with warbling birds around us. But to my senses the sweetest music was her voice, the daintiest bloom her cheek, the most intoxicating perfume her breath. Looking around, it seemed to me that all Nature did but reflect her beauty, and therein lay its perfection. There were favorite spots where we would rest, noting the development of familiar things—how these buds expanded, how that fruit ripened, how the young birds began to stretch their naked necks beyond the nest's edge, crying for food; indeed, there was such scope for observation, and my dear lady was so quick to perceive and appreciate all things of beauty, that no moment was dull or tame.
While we indulged to the full our love for rambling, we were not unmindful of domestic things. The season was now come for plucking silk grass, and of this we cut an abundance, and laid it on the rocks to dry; for my lady designed to plait it, in the Ingas' style, into a long strip, which she might make up into clothing by-and-by. This plaiting was the first work I put my hand to, and though I bungled sadly over it to begin with, I grew defter in time, so that I could do it as well in the dark as in the day. Many an evening we sat weaving our grass hour after hour, with no light but that of the stars as they twinkled forth, chatting the whole while of other matters. But before I got to this proficiency—indeed, as soon as I could plait decently—I made a hat for my lady; not so much like a woman's as a boy's, that it might go fairly with her habit; and this, with a couple of bright tail-feathers from a macucagui[6]stuck in jauntily o' one side, became her mightily, though I say it; but, for that matter, anything looked well that she took for her use.
About this time we had the good fortune to catch a partlet sitting on a nest of fifteen eggs; taking these home without delay, we clapped the eggs in a corner of our conies' cavern, where the hen, after some little ado, sat down upon them, being hemmed in with the hurdle that parted off my bed-chamber from our parlor, which I fetched out for that purpose.
About a fortnight later my Lady Biddy came to me in great glee one morning to say that every one of the eggs were hatched out; and I know not which looked the more content, this old hen strutting carefully amidst her chicks as proud as a peacock, or my dear lady casting some cassavy pap before them for a meal.
And now the conies multiplying prodigiously, that cavern was full of young live things, so that there was as much work to provide for their mouths as our own; but there was never too much for my lady to do, and she would not part with a single one.
"They are my children," she would say, with a little sadness in her smile.
With these innocent pleasures and hard work my lady beguiled the days, and so two months passed away—two months, as I say, of inexpressible delight for me. Not a day passed without my discovering some new charm in her person, some fresh grace in her character, which I had previously overlooked. And how to keep this adoration that filled my soul from overflowing by my lips, or my eyes, was almost more than I could compass.
One day when I was culling a nosegay, and seeing in the pale pink and cream hue of the flowers resemblance to my lady's cheek, I (being then alone) did with extravagant passion bury my face in the fresh cool bloom, kissing them till my transport was spent. Then, looking again at the blossoms, I was sobered to perceive how I had crushed out their freshness and beauty, so that they no longer bore any likeness to my dear lady's face.
So then I resolved I would not suffer myself to fall in love with her; but that was easier said than done. For 'twere as easy to promise you would not grow hungered or athirst. However, one thing was possible, if I had any manhood, and that was to keep my love from being known to my dear lady.
Nevertheless, before long I had reason to believe she had guessed my secret, for she also grew silent and downcast beyond her wont, and more than once I spied her looking at me with pity and sorrow, as if she knew of my trouble.
One day, when I addressed her as "my lady," she said:
"Why should you call me by a title here where there is no distinction? Why not call me 'sister,' Benet, or plain 'Biddy'?—for we are as brother and sister to one another, are we not, and must ever be?"
This hint showed what was in her mind; and yet if she had learnt my secret, God knows it was against the best I could do to hide it.
I called her "sister" after that, hoping it would train my mind to think of her in that relation; but it did not, so that I knew not what remedy to get for the fever of my heart.
One morning we were made merry at breakfast by the partlet making her way over the rocks that divided us from the conies' cave, and bringing all her brood to pay us a visit, which was as much as ever she could tempt them to undertake, and called for prodigious chuckling and scratching on her part. Our diversion somewhat relaxed the feeling of restraint within me, and when my dear lady, taking up a chick in her fair hands, held it up that I might see how bright and free were its eyes, I, looking all the while upon the lovely girl's head that was so near me, was within an ace of bending down to touch it with my lips. Now this being a Tuesday was the day for grinding our cassavy meal, and perceiving by my heat that I dare not trust myself to stand by our bench all the morning beside my lady, I made believe I had a relish for fish that day, and begged her to take her rod and line and go a-fishing while I ground the cassavy.
"Nay," says she, "do you go a-fishing, for your arm is not yet strong enough to do this hard work alone."
But I protested I was able to do this, my arm being as well as ever it had been, and that she was a better angler than I (as indeed was true), and so she presently took her rod and went over the rocks to a pool where fish abounded. When I had ground my meal and set the kitchen neatly in order, I betook myself to the rocks straightway; for I could never abide to let my lady be long out of sight for fear of accident befalling her. And that I might not scare the fish, I approached the pool noiselessly; but turning a rock that screened that part from view I was brought of a sudden to a stand by spying my poor little comrade sitting on a big stone, her rod lying idly beside her, her elbows on her knees, and her face buried in her hands. She made no sound, but I could see, by the twitching of her shoulders, that she was sobbing. Then would I have given all the world to be able to go thither and comfort her—to draw her to me and soothe her as a brother might his sister. But reflecting that we were but brother and sister in name, and that I should but add to her distress by my endeavors to assuage it, I drew back as silently as I had come, and going back to the cavern I sank down on my stone stool as wretched and sore at heart as might be.
"Poor soul," thinks I, "she must needs weep at times to relieve her overcharged heart. There are birds that do pine away in captivity. This is no home for her. These chicks and conies can never replace the friends she has lost and can never hope to rejoin. Here there is naught to hope for; even Nature must cease to charm her when she sees that these mountains and waters serve as the bars of a cage. What cheerful word can I whisper? What can I do to bring joy into those dear eyes?"
In this sort did I spend the time till I heard her voice feigning to hum a merry ditty, when I also put on a careless look to hide my care.
She had caught half a dozen fishes, so that she could not have given way long to grief; nor was it in her nature to yield to useless regrets. If I had judged only by her present manner I should have said that nothing was amiss with her, for she persevered in sprightly conversation, albeit I could join in it but poorly; still, as we sat to our dinner, I noted that the lids of her pretty eyes were swollen and red. Also I observed that her cheek was thinner than it used to be, and the blue veins in the back of her hand more clearly marked. Then it struck me that perhaps her dejection arose from failing health, and that the vapors from the fens, wafting over the lake, had already attacked her, as they had before seized me.
Then of a sudden the thought came to me as I looked at her—
"What should I do without my dear little comrade?"
And at this reflection it seemed as if the food I was eating must choke me.
God knows how I got through that meal. When it was over, I made a pretense of feeding the conies to go apart where I might give vent to the terrible emotion that brought me to a despairing grief. And saying again, "What should I do without her?" I wept like any child, but with the difficulty of a man, so that I felt as if my heart was being torn out of my breast, and beat my foot upon the ground in agony.
However, this weakness passed away with my tears, and then bracing myself up with more manly fortitude I swore, betwixt my clenched teeth, that all the powers of Nature should not keep my lady prisoner there. As I said this, my eye fell upon a mark on the rock, left by the turbid swollen waters, and marking how the waters were now fallen from this height a good five fathoms, I conceived a means of escape which had never before occurred to me.
No sooner did this new idea come to me than I sprang down the rocks to where our canoe lay, stepped into it, pulled up the stone which served as an anchor, and, in a perfect rage of haste, paddled to that part of the lake where, as I have told, we were like to have been drawn down with the whirlpool.
To this region we had found no occasion to go since our first hazardous voyage thither, there being no woods, but only the high stony mountain. But now, nearing this part, I perceived, with a tumult of joy, a wide cavern in the rock, disclosed by the falling of the water from its previous height: moreover, there was no longer any whirlpool there, but only a gentle current flowing into the cavern, which was the natural efflux of the streams that came down from the mountains. And it can be readily understood that when the waters were swollen so prodigiously as to lie some depth above this cavern, there should be that vast eddy as they were sucked down to find vent by this passage.
Without fear I pushed my canoe to the very edge of the cavern and looked within; and, though the pitchy darkness of it was frightful enough, yet I was comforted by hearing no great noise of tumbling water, nor even the faintest echo, save of a little ripple, which convinced me that I might safely venture therein, with the assurance that I should come to no horrid falls, but reach, in due course, the issue of this stream upon the other side of the mountain. But I could go no further at this time for my impatience to carry comfort to my dear lady. So back I went with as much speed as I had come, and, seeing my dear lady standing at the cavern-mouth, I cried out with all my force for joy. Then, coming all breathless to where she stood in amaze, I essayed to tell her; but for some moments could utter no comprehensible words.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Benet?" says she.
"My little comrade," gasps I, "you shall weep no more. Your cheek shall grow full and rosy again. I have found the means to get from this accursed venomous prison!"
Lady Biddy looked at me in mute amazement, my feverish excitement giving her good reason to doubt whether I was not bereft of my reason; but, to cut the matter short, for 'twas ever to me an easier matter to act than to talk, I begged her to step into our canoe, that I might show her my discovery. This she did without further ado, whereupon I pushed across the lake till we came to the newly-found cavern, and there cast out our anchor of stone, that we might examine the entrance at our ease.
"There," says I, pointing into the grotto—"there lies our road to liberty!"
She peered into the darkness some time in silence, and then, with a hushed voice—
"I see no glimmer of light, Benet," says she.
"Nay," says I, "doubtless the tunnel reaches far and has many windings ere it disembogues beyond the further side of these mountains; but assuredly it has an issue, and I conclude the passage must be sufficiently commodious, since it gives no echo of break or fall, and has sufficed to carry off the vast body of waters so speedily, for you must remember how suddenly the lake fell after the flood ceased to rush in from the Baraquan. I believe you have nothing to dread here."
"I am ever ready," says she, "to put my life in your hands; but have you no fear for yourself?"
"I value my life only as it may serve you," says I with a transport.
On that, with a sudden impulse, she stretched out both hands to me, while her eyes were flushed with a tear of joy. As quickly I seized them in mine, pressing them as I had not hitherto dared. She did not try to draw them away, but smiled, while a single tear coursed down her cheek; and if I had drawn her to my breast that moment, I think she would have made no resistance, so virginal innocent was her heart, and pure from any feeling but that of responsive affection.
We lost no time in beginning our preparations for departure, and that evening we made up into cakes for next day's baking all the cassavy meal I had ground in the morning for our week's consumption. I was up at daylight the next morning, and, having made a good fire on the kitchen hearth, killed and dressed four acutis and a couple of chickens, for there was no knowing how long we might go before we again got fresh supplies. By this time, my lady having come back from her morning bath all fresh and bright as any pink after a summer shower, we sat down to our breakfast very merry and hopeful, discoursing all the while on the business before us. After that she set to a-baking of our cakes on the hearth and roasting meat at another fire, so that one would have thought we expected to entertain friends, and were preparing a banquet for them. While this was about, I went into the wood to cut some poles for guiding us through the cavern, and also I got me some good canes, with which I proposed to fence about our canoe, that we might be fended from sudden encounter with sharp rocks. In addition I gathered a good store of fresh fruit, and a quantity of cuati nuts on their branches, which the Ingas use for lamps, etc., than which no candles of wax give better light with less smoke.
All these things I carried back to the cavern by the time the sun had reached the meridian, and there I found dinner spread on our table, and no more sign of disorder than on any other day, my Lady Biddy being one of those excellent rare women, who, no matter how busy they be, keep a clear head, and neglect none of those comforting attentions on which domestic happiness so much depends.
The rest of that day I spent in strengthening and defending our canoe (our fate depending thereon as much as anything), while my lady packed up those things we were to carry with us; and many a time she came to me in distress to know if we could not take this, or if we must leave that or t'other, for I had bid her take no more than was needful to us.
"The truth is," says she, when I went to her once, "I have not the heart to leave anything behind; for I cannot touch a thing but that it reminds me of the pleasure you have given me in making it for my use." Then after a pause, in which she looks around her, "Oh! Benet," adds she, "I never realized till now how happy we have been here; so I must needs feel sad in leaving these tokens behind."
The next morning we packed our effects in the canoe, and this being done, we carried my lady's pets from the conies' cave (as I call it) to the wood, and there set them free; but, Lord, to see these dumb things at the water's edge (the conies on their hind-legs), looking after their mistress, as if they had a notion they should never see her again, touched our hearts with sad regret.
"Farewell, you dears!" says my lady tearfully; and then, as we glided past our cavern, "Farewell, little home!" but she could say no more.
So in silence we neared that cavern where we were about to venture our lives; for I now perceived how serious and grave a business lay before me.
Before entering the grotto, I lit one of the cuati-nuts, and stuck it in a fork of green hard wood I had fixed to the prow of the canoe for that purpose. Then, my lady having a pole out on one side, and I one on the other, we recommended ourselves to Providence, and pushed into the darkness.
For some time we went gently down with the current, only using our poles to keep us head foremost, and as nigh the middle of the stream as we could judge. And here it was admirable to see how the rocks on either hand and above flashed back the light from our flaming nuts, for all the world like cut diamonds; but after a while, upon looking back, the opening of this cavern (through which we had come) looked no bigger than the flame of a penny candle, and the glitter of the rocks grew less perceptible, from which we concluded that the grotto, instead of diminishing, was increasing in capacity. At first this was no matter of regret, but rather the contrary; but by-and-by, when we could descry no light at all behind us, nor any reflection from the rocks around, a strange feeling crept upon me, for which I can find no name. Save the reflection of the burning nut upon the black water, and our own figures as we stood up in the canoe (which were shadowy enough for creatures of another world), we could see nothing. The water under the fire lay as still and smooth as any polished mirror; for aught we could tell, the current had ceased to flow, and we had come to a standstill. I thrust my pole out on either side; it touched nothing. I slid it downwards into the water, and my arm also up to the elbow, without striking the bottom. Then I struck upward as far as I could reach, without meeting any resistance. And on this I looked in my lady's face, and saw it white as a ghost's, and full of awe.
"We seem to have drifted into the world of nothing," says I sportively.
She lifts up her finger in silence a moment, and then in a whisper says she:
"There is no echo."
This indeed impressed me, more deeply than all the rest, with a sense of that vastness and obscurity in which we stood; and I could not speak, for fear of I know not what. And then, as we stood in that wondrous silence, there came a hollow voice from the immensity above, echoing my words after all this interval, but in such a hollow, muffled sound as you may hear after dropping a stone into a deep well.
"Are we moving, Benet?" says my lady, drawing a little nearer to me.
But I could not say whether we were or not, nor knew I any device to ascertain the truth.
I made my lady sit down, seeing she was much terrified by this strange experience, and replenished the fire at the prow; for though this light was of no service for our guidance, yet I felt that to be without it would be terrible, in good sooth.
So we waited, gazing about us for some sign of change (with the hope we were yet moving with a current whose now was too even for perception), until I guessed by my feelings it must be getting on for noon. Then, with what spirit I could muster, I proposed we should eat our dinner. But a more ghostly meal I never ate in my life; for all seemed so unreal that it was difficult to believe in our own existence almost. Nay, it crossed my mind that, for aught we knew to the contrary, we were now in some limbo of a future state.
"I do not think we are moving, Benet," says my lady, when our meal was at an end; "shall we not use our oars?"
"With all my heart," says I; "but as to steering, we must leave that to Providence." Indeed, I should long before have brought our oars into play but for the uncertainty as to whither we might come. For 'twas as likely as not we should pull in the wrong direction, having nothing for our guidance, and so, getting out of the current (if current there were), come into some stagnant part of those waters, where we might paddle about forever and a day and find no exit; but of this I said nothing, lest I should inspire my lady with more terrors than she had already.
And so we rowed on, from time to time replenishing our fire, and my heart sickening at the thought that we might be pushing into the depths of a boundless space, and away from all hope of deliverance. We had food for a week; but I doubted our fire-nuts would hold out three days. And when they were all spent, we must row in endless night, neither seeing each other nor any faintest glimmer, and that only till our food was spent. At this I did fervently pray for mercy—if it were only to catch sight again of the mouth by which we had entered—that we might get back once more into the light of day. My poor little comrade was thinking at this time of the sunlight and her conies, with a longing to be back in our deserted cavern, as she told me.
We rowed till our strength was exhausted; then I bade my lady lie down and rest, while I watched and kept the nuts burning. When she had taken her slumbers, she insisted upon my doing likewise, and with some reluctance I, in my turn, lay down and fell asleep.
I awoke, and then seeing nothing whatever, for the light was no longer burning, I cried out with a terrible fear that my lady was no more.
But her sweet voice brought me quick relief, as she told me that she had thought it best to economize our fuel. "And, Benet," says she, "are we not more likely to catch sight of a faint light in the distance if we have no fire here to dazzle our eyes?"
"Why, there you are in the right, as you ever are," says I.
"That emboldens me to another suggestion," says she. "As we have not been rowing for many hours, it may be that we have drifted again into a current, so do let us rest as patiently as we can doing nothing."
I agreed to this, and we passed an interminable time, as it seemed, as best we might; but, truly, no hours ever spent in that dear soul's company were ever so tedious or weary. For, as I say, we had no means of telling whether we were moving or standing still; but lay there, seeing nothing, hearing no sound, feeling no motion, and in a state of uncertainty and dread of unknown possibilities that was enough to drive one to a frenzy.
And so we lay or drifted (I know not which) for a time that seemed to have no end. Once or twice we made a pretense of being hungered, though, Lord knows, 'twas pain to swallow a morsel for our vast terror; and sometimes we made as if we would go to sleep a while, but could never close our eyes for blinking at the darkness in hope of seeing some sign of light; and from time to time we burned a fire-nut, but without perceiving any change at all in our condition.
But at length, when we were beginning to talk of the advisability of rowing again, for we were as blind to our position as ever, to our unspeakable joy we felt the cane fender of the canoe grinding against the rocks, and before I could get a light to see where we were, my lady cried aloud with joy:
"Look, dear Benet—look up there!"
And casting my eyes round, without knowing whither she pointed, I presently spied a bright star; and the next moment the whole starry firmament was revealed.
Thus did we come out of that wondrous cavern in the night, having gone into it in early morning; but whether we had been therein one day or three we could never make out.
No hearts were more joyful than ours at this escape from that cave of eternal night (as my lady called it). To us the little stars were as full of radiance and comfort as the sun of midday, so that we could do naught but feast our eyes for a long while. But we were not unmindful of our debt to Providence for this deliverance, taking it as a special mercy that we had been brought out in the night; for the light of day would have blinded us to a certainty after being plunged so long in impenetrable darkness, as men eating after starvation do drop dead of surfeit.
Being no more inclined to sleep than a throstle in the morn (for this was to us, indeed, rather the break of day than the fall of night), we went gently down with the stream, which was of a reasonable body, winding awhile amongst rocks, but coming at length to an open country, whence we caught sight of the moon resting on the tops of those mountains we had passed under, and more fair than ever we had counted it before.
For many days our minds were haunted (as of a dream) with the recollection of those fearful hours under the mountains, and meeting some friendly Ingas we questioned them about it; but as well as we could make out, they knew it only for a mighty den, whence they supposed the river sprang; but they knew nothing of the issue on the other side, none ever having dared to go beyond a few fathoms of its entrance, because of the prodigious darkness and obscurity therein, etc.
I could write several books of our adventures in descending that river into the Baraquan, and so down the Oronoque, if I had the patience; but I have not. For a man can not be forever a-counting of mile-stones, but must needs (seeing himself near his journey's end) run on amain, taking little heed of things of the wayside. And, in truth, having got again on the broad river, with an easy, free current to bear us onward, and Nature above and around smiling upon us encouragement, we openly deemed that the worst of our troubles were over.
I say we openly deemed this, but secretly I judged that the worst of my troubles was to come. For I could no longer blind myself, as I had in the beginning of our journey, to the fact that in the end we must part. Nay, remembering the terrible shock I had sustained that day in our cavern, when I thought it possible my dear lady might die of fever, I now felt it my duty to contemplate our inevitable separation, in order that when the time came for our farewell I might bear myself with becoming fortitude. So every night, when I lay down, I repeated to myself that awful question, "What should I do without her?" setting myself to devise some manner of life by which I might reconcile myself to the will of Providence. In this way I strove to armor myself against the sure arrow of adversity.
Whether Smidmore were alive or dead, as I sometimes guessed he might be, the result must be the same when my lady came again amongst her friends in England; for there must she resume her condition, and be honored as a lady of position, whilst I must ever be plain Benet Pengilly, and a man of the woods. Thus, knowing I must lose her, I begrudged the movement of the sun, and saw him set each evening with a profound melancholy, knowing another day was past from the few that were to give me happiness.
How I clung to those days, how I strained my senses to catch every word and gesture of my dear lady's, only they can imagine who have been warned by physicians that their dearest friend must surely die ere long. 'Twas, indeed, the feeling that had choked me when I believed my dear lady to be dying, only lessened by the hope that after my last hour of joy was come, long years of happiness might be her portion.
We were many weeks—nay, months—on the river, and, as I say, we had adventures of divers kinds without number: some pleasant, and some distressful; but, on the whole, my dear lady's health and spirits being of the best, our journey was prosperous. But as weeks and weeks passed on, it did seem we should never come to the end of this great river and now we began to grow mighty anxious lest the rains should set in again ere we reached the coast of Guiana, which would enforce us to take refuge from the floods till the season was past. One day we set ourselves to calculate how long we had been a-coming from the cave, and what time we might yet have for our going; and as near as we could reckon, rain might be expected in three weeks. But as to our distance from the coast, we were without means of calculation, the Ingas on this part of the river whom we encountered understanding nothing of what we said, and showing such hostile spirit as made us chary in seeking them for information.
It was our practice of a morning to leave our canoe in the mooring we had found for it the night before, and go a-hunting in the woods for such fruit and game as we required for the day. From one of these expeditions we were making our way back to the canoe with nothing but some fruit, and that none of the best, for we were in an unfavored part, and our eyes on the lookout for any kind of game that might serve our turn, when my lady, being in advance of me, suddenly came to a stand.
"I am convinced," says she in a whisper, as I came quickly to her side, "that I saw something leap behind yonder thicket," pointing to a clump of shrubs about a furlong distant. "Do you go, Benet, to the right, while I make my way to the left, that between us we do not miss our game, for I am greatly mistaken if it be not a tayacutirica."[7]
To this I agreed, begging my lady to have a care for her safety, for these creatures have tusks like any jack-knife; and so we separated, going about to get a fair shot with our arrows at the beast. Now, to get to the further side of the thicket, I must either cross an open space, or round a growth of high shrubs; and as, for lack of provisions, I feared greatly to startle our quarry before getting aim, I chose the latter. Scarce had I got beyond the thicket when I heard a scream that I knew at once no boar could make, and, fearing my lady had startled some savage Inga or jagoarete and stood in peril, I drew the sword from my belt in a twinkling, and leaping out of the scrub into the open rushed towards the thicket, shouting lustily. But ere I was half across the open I heard a voice cry out therefrom:
"Lord love you, master, do me no mischief. 'Tis but your humble servant, Matthew Pennyfarden." And with this, out from the thicket leaps my faithful friend; but a sight to see, for the rags of clothes that covered his nakedness all fastened together with strings of grass in lack of buttons, and a great bush of hair about his head, so that but for his voice I might not have known him.
Before I could recover of my astonishment he seizes my hand, and cries he: "Quick, master, behind these brambles for a refuge, though I fear never a Portugal in the world now I have you at hand."
"There be no Portugals here, friend Matthew," says I.
"There you are wrong," says he; "for I do assure you I spied one of 'em creeping upon me with a bow, when I sang out in the hope of alarming my mates, and had the good chance to bring you forth. Nay, look you, master; there is the young villain!"
Then I burst into a good, hearty laugh, for the "young villain" to whom he pointed was none but my dear lady, who was now running towards us. Then discerning who it was, on spying more closely, my friend Matthew slaps his leg, and cries he:
"Zookers! 'tis her ladyship, as I might have seen if my eyes had not been dimmed with a fever. I beg your pardon a thousand times, madam, in having mistaken you for a Portugal. 'Tis not the first time I have fled from a female, but 'twould be the last if every one wore the breeches—saving your presence—to such advantage."
"Tell me, good friend," says she, cutting short this pleasantry on her costume, "have you happily found my uncle?"
"Ay, madam," he replies. "That I did by such good fortune as I shall relate to you at our leisure; and, sure, I was no happier to find him than he to be found. I left him hale and hearty at the mouth of the Oronoque, where he guards his two ships against the accursed pirates that practice their villainous calling in those latitudes. His loving messages to your ladyship and to your master I can but ill express at this moment for my own delight in seeing you once more."
And therewith, as if unable to restrain his affection any longer, he threw himself upon my neck, declaring this was the happiest day of his life. "For Lord love you, master," says he, "I thought never to have seen you again; and but for the strategy I have learned of the Portugals, I could not have persuaded my company to persevere in this search for you."
"Where is your company, friend Matthew?" says I.
"Best part of 'em, master, are dead of disease, or eaten up by wild beasts," says he with a rueful shake of his head. "Only eleven of us are left out of twenty-five stout and lusty fellows who left the ships in the beginning of the summer, and they lie about a mile down the river. 'Twas as much as three boats could hold us with our stores and provisions, when we started; but now a single boat would carry us, for our stores are long since gone, and we are all more or less wasted with privations and sickness. Only I have contrived to keep a little flesh on my bones, and that was due to a hope which the rest have long since abandoned."
"Are we still so far from the mouth of this long river?" asks my lady.
"Nay, madam; not so long but we may hope to get down to it in a few weeks," says he. "Though I have kept this from my company, lest they should insist on returning. We began our journey when the river was still swollen with the rains, and we have been for ever a-going up those rivers that discharge themselves into this, whereof there are scores, and all so alike that no man can tell which is the right but at a guess. Hows'mever, no such trouble shall we have now, for the current must bear us to the sea, and I have taken good note of the way."
In this, discourse, and much other for which I have no space, we made our way to the river, and in our canoe speedily dropped down to that part where lay the poor remnant of that good company who had braved so much to find us.
It was piteous to see how these poor seamen, ragged as any bears, and thin as hurdles, were affected with joy when they learnt that their troubles were as good as ended—weeping and laughing by turns, like very fools. This extravagance of delight was, I say, sad to behold, for sure the sight of strong men who have lost the dignity and composure of manhood, and are brought to the weak condition of little children, is not less deplorable than the aspect of young faces overcast with the care and anxiety of age.
However, this was but the shock of suddenly returning hope, and when the transport was over they became reasonable, and mended apace. The ease of going down that river in comparison with ascending it is incredible, as may be gathered from the fact that in one day we passed two marks set up by these poor fellows at intervals of eight and ten days. At each of such marks they would stop to give a great cheer of delight; then, filled with fresh vigor by these sure signs of rapid progress, they lay themselves with such might to their oars that 'twas as much as my friend Matthew and I in the canoe, with Lady Biddy at the helm, could do to keep up with them.
And here it may not be amiss to tell that my dear lady, before joining this company of men, had taken occasion to change her stripling's dress for the gown we had carried down with us, for now there was no longer necessity for her to penetrate the thick woods, exposing herself to brier and bramble, and she would no more appear in a dress unbecoming to her sex.
We had been descending the river best part of three weeks, when Pennyfarden assured us we were nearing an island whereon, to lighten their boats (in order to make better head against the stream), they had left some of their stores under a tent made of a lug-sail; and soon after this, a joyful shout from the company in that boat that led the way signified that the island was in sight.
"Now," says friend Matthew—"now shall we be all able to dress ourselves decently, and return to Sir Bartlemy like Christians, for amongst the stores is a chest of excellent buff jerkins and sea-boots."
Presently, coming up to this island, where the seamen were already landed, we found them wandering about in great vexation and trouble, for the tent had been torn down, and they could find none of their stores, save an empty barrel and the charred end of their chest, which had been broken up for firewood.
At first we set it down that the Ingas had been there; but Pennyfarden, casting his eyes about that part where the empty barrel lay, shook his head ruefully, and declared that they had no hand in this business.
"Pray how can you tell that?" says I.
"Why, look you, master," says he, stooping down and picking up three or four long iron nails that lay scattered in the herb, "no Inga would have wantonly cast these away, for he prizes them more than all the gold and precious stones by which we set such store. And they have not been overlooked or dropped by accident, for they were bound up in paper, and lay at the bottom of the barrel; and, see, they are scattered broadcast around us—scattered by those who themselves had no need of such things, and were meanly minded that no one else should profit by them—wanton waste and devilry that the worst Inga would not be guilty of. I do sadly fear that this is the work of mad sailors; what say you, Master Palmer?" adds he, addressing an old seaman who had joined us.
"Like enough—like enough," says Palmer dismally; "and if it be as you suppose, then Heaven help us all. For," adds he, after a long-drawn sigh, "none of our ship-mates would thus destroy and waste our stores unless he had mutinied against our captain, and sought to bring grief by our undoing."
The rest of our company, coming up, joined in this opinion, and one cried that there was no hope left us. But my lady, who was ever quick to spy a comforting gleam where none saw aught but dismal clouds, told them they did wrong to despond so readily, "for," says she, "if some of the men have rebelled, 'tis clear they have gained but little by it, or they would not have come hither."
"You are in the right of it, madam," says Palmer. "If they mutinied, 'twas because they would no longer lie at the mouth of the Oronoque, awaiting our return; and had they succeeded in overcoming our good captain, they would at once have set sail and gone hence."
The company, seeing the soundness of this argument, plucked up courage again; but we all agreed that, as the mutineers might be somewhere betwixt us and Sir Bartlemy, we must proceed with caution; and as the nights were fairly light (though no moon), and the river pretty well known to us, we resolved to journey only by night henceforth.
By the end of that week the rains began to fall. However, this gave us but little trouble, for not only did it increase the strength of the current that bore us onwards, but it lessened our danger of falling in with marauders, who would now be forced to seek shelter of some sort. My chief concern was for Lady Biddy; but I contrived to protect her from the pelting storm with a very fair kind of tent set up in the canoe.
We reached that mouth of the Oronoque where the ships lay at nightfall on the third day of the rains, and without molestation; and here, though it was too dark to make out the vessels, we discerned a light about a mile out, as we judged. Thither we considered it advisable to proceed at once, for if we found that the mutineers had overcome my uncle and held the ships, then might we with more likelihood return to land, and escape with our lives under cover of the night.
So now, with as little noise as possible, we drew out into the open, Thomas Palmer, who was an admirable good seaman, leading the way in the biggest of our boats.
We were yet a couple of furlongs from the light when Palmer stayed his rowers, and we coming up with him, he whispered us that one of the ships lay hard by without light aboard; and sure enough, on straining our eyes, we perceived on our right hand a dark mass, which might well be a ship's hulk, but I could make out nothing for the pelting rain and obscurity.
"Well, Palmer," says I, "what is best to do? Shall we examine this closer or go on?"
"Master," says he, "I am for examining this vessel. For if we get an ill reception on the further ship, and alarm is given, our retreat to the shore may be cut off by a sortie from this here."
So, being agreed amongst themselves, we drew on till we reached the ship, and then we found that she lay aground and on her side, as if she had been careened. Twice we pulled right around her, raising our voices to draw attention; but no one stirred abroad, and we remained unchallenged. Not a sound could we hear, nor could we find out much with our eyes for the darkness and rain (as I say); but in passing those ports on the under side of the ship, that lay pretty near on a level with our heads as we stood up in our boats, a most sickening stench assailed our nostrils. Not knowing what to be at, we lay still for a few minutes, listening in silence; then Palmer called out lustily and we beat the side of the ship with our oars. Never a sound did we get in reply, nor could we spy sign of movement or glimmer of light anywhere, which put our superstitious seamen to great fear. But this Thomas Palmer, being bolder than the rest, presently volunteered to go into the ship by one of the ports and get some explanation of this mystery, which he accordingly did, and after being absent some time he comes again to the port, and cries out that we can come aboard if we will, for there is none there to do us mischief.
"What!" cries one of the seamen, "are none of our old mates aboard?"
"That I can not tell for the darkness," says Palmer; "but mates or not, this I will answer for—every man-jack of 'em is dead."
At this moment Pennyfarden, catching me by the arm, calls out:
"Lord love us, master! look above there."
Looking up as he bade us we then perceived (our eyes being now grown accustomed to this obscurity) two bodies hanging over the sea about a fathom from our heads we sat in our boats, on that side of the ship which (as I say) inclined over towards the water. Despite the dimness, we made these out to be the corpses of men, and doubted not that they hung there from the yard-arms above.
For some while we could do nothing but strain our eyes at these indistinct objects as they slowly swung in the little breeze that was springing, being pierced (as it were) with fear that this was my poor old uncle, thus barbarously put to death by the mutineers; but still more terrified with the uncertainty of the whole business, the silence, the darkness, and that foul stench of corruption that poisoned the air.
"Let us get hence!" says one of the seamen hoarsely.
"Nay, we must know if this be our commander that hangs here ere we venture to the ship where there is light," says Palmer. "Have you never a tinder-box, master, or anything dry enough to burn?"
I had my tinder-gun dry in my pocket, and my lady found amongst our store in the canoe two or three of the cuati-nuts, and with some ado we contrived to get these alight under the tent that I have mentioned. And when they were well ablaze we rowed right under the hanging bodies, where, standing up, I suddenly brought the flaming nuts out of the tent and lifted them up as high as I could over my head, so that the light fell on the faces above. Their eyes were staring wide open, and their lower jaws were dropped. But one was an eye short, and I knew him at once for Ned Parsons; while the other, by his pointed teeth alone, I could have sworn to amongst a thousand for our old enemy Rodrigues!