The change of circumstances pleased every one except Billy the parrot. He had never taken kindly to Fangati, but had always ruffled his feathers and squawked angrily when he saw her with Tommy. The girls laughed at these manifestations of jealousy. But when Billy was removed from his home, and found that his mistress's attentions were shared by still another person, he became sulky. He would sit on a rock, or the bough of a tree, blinking his bead-like eyes and maintaining a sullen and reproachful silence.
Tommy was so much taken up with Fangati that it is to be feared she somewhat neglected her old favourite, as was perfectly natural under the circumstances. When Fangati and her grandfather had finished the new hut, which occupied them only two days, the young girls were constantly together. Tommy, now that her fear of cannibal neighbours was removed, became again the active, light-hearted, adventurous girl she had ever been. She roamed all over the island with Fangati, not even excepting the region of the tapu, for she found that the native girl was ready to go in any direction, provided she did not catch sight of the posts on the ridge. They discovered in company other plantations of wholesome fruits, of kinds which Tommy already knew, and of others which were strange to her. Fangati showed her how to fish in the native way with a spear of sharpened wood. At first Tommy was sceptical about this, declaring that with the line and hook she would catch more fish than Fangati with the spear. But she soon found that she was quite wrong. Leaning over the edge of a rock, with her keen eyes fixed on the water, Fangati would plunge her spear rapidly, and scarcely ever failed to bring up a fish as large as Tommy caught, and much more quickly. Tommy tried to imitate her, and was exceedingly proud when, after dozens of fruitless attempts, she succeeded in spearing her first fish.
In the course of one of their early rambles the girls came to the pit into which Tommy had fallen. Fangati was much interested in this, having never seen it before, and she ran to fetch her grandfather to the spot. The girls asked him what was the purpose of the pit, and he thought at first that it had been dug as a storehouse for breadfruit. But when Tommy told him about the tunnel through which she had crawled, and of the hole in the wall at the farther end, he looked puzzled and declared that he would go down and see for himself. It did not take long to construct a serviceable ladder with stout canes bound together with creepers, and the whole party descended into the pit and followed Tommy through the tunnel.
Arriving at the end, Maku looked curiously over the ledge. He explained to the girls that the dim-lit space beyond was the cave in which the mystic ceremonies of his people were conducted. The reason of the existence of the pit was now plain to him. There was a tradition among his tribe that one of his predecessor chiefs had shown an extraordinary knowledge of some of the secret performances of the mystery men at which he had not been present.
"I unastan," said Maku. "He find hole; he look; oh! he say, dis fine place fo' me. All-same he makee way dis side; makee pit; come 'long, listen, look see; eh, eh; he know all-same too much."
His explanation was not very clear, but after a time the girls understood that the former chief, having accidentally discovered the tunnel opening to the cave, had dug the pit so that he could approach it from the inland direction, and had thus provided himself with a means of eavesdropping. Apparently he had covered the pit with a light lattice-work—as the breadfruit pit was usually covered—and this in the course of years had become overgrown with vegetation, so that nobody could have suspected the hole beneath.
On returning to the surface they pulled up the ladder and laid it among the trees near by. More than once during the succeeding days Tommy and Fangati amused themselves by descending into the pit and chasing each other in the darkness of the tunnel. They invented other amusements. Tommy ran races with Fangati, played at hide-and-seek in the woods, practised shying at cocoa-nuts. All the girls had swimming competitions in the cove at low tide, and though the English girls became very expert, they were no match for Fangati, who dived and gambolled in the water as though in her native element.
In constant companionship with Fangati, they learnt in course of time many native words, and she on her side picked up a smattering of English. They were thus able to communicate with her freely. She amused them by her mispronunciations. The letter r was a stumbling-block. "Run" was always "lun"; "bekfas leady," she would say; and she adopted from her grandfather the expression "all-same," which she used frequently and in odd connections.
"I lun all-same kick, Me Tommee," she would say, when Tommy had beaten her in a race; or if, in a game of hide-and-seek, it was Mary's turn to hide, "Mailee all-same hidee-sik," was her way of putting it.
One day, having had no success at their usual fishing-place at the mouth of the cove, Fangati proposed that she and Tommy should go to a spot about half-a-mile up the coast, where she had sometimes caught fish before the girls came. Elizabeth had laid no restrictions on Tommy as regards her fishing excursions, except that she had asked her not to go out of sight of their little harbour. Remembering how Fangati had been carried out to sea, she wished to guard against any repetition of that mishap.
The spot to which Fangati pointed was beyond the usual limit. It was not, however, far distant from the shore, and Fangati had been much farther out when her canoe was caught by the current. Elizabeth had gone with Mary into the interior to gather breadfruit, so that it was impossible to consult her; and Tommy, anxious to have some fish for dinner by the time her sisters returned, agreed to try the new place.
They reached it in the canoe, Tommy paddling. It was a large flat rock a few hundred yards from the shore, with a deep pool on its inner side. There they had great success, in the course of half-an-hour spearing enough fish for several meals. Thoroughly satisfied, they had just turned their canoe towards home when Tommy caught sight of a large shape moving rapidly beneath the surface of the water.
"Oh! what's that?" she cried.
Almost before the words were out of her mouth the canoe quivered under a terrific shock. Then it was rocked violently to and fro, so violently that the sea came over the gunwale and the girls had to throw themselves on to the opposite side to prevent the slight craft from overturning. As they did this there was a sudden sharp sound as of something snapping. Instantly the canoe turned over, and the girls found themselves in the sea.
Fangati laughed.
"All-same jolly fun," she said.
Tommy was not so much amused. Being able to swim she did not mind the sudden bath; but all the fish were gone; the morning's work was thrown away.
Fangati quickly righted the canoe, and having clambered into it, helped Tommy to regain her place. There was, of course, a quantity of water at the bottom of the little vessel.
"What was it?" exclaimed Tommy, shaking the water from her head. "Was it a shark?"
Fangati looked about her. In a moment she pointed to a strange object, something like the end of a saw, projecting from the bottom of the canoe. Tommy had never seen such a thing before. Stooping down, she pulled at it. It was loosely fixed, and came away in her hand. Instantly there was an inrush of water.
"No, no, silly Billy," cried Fangati, using an expression she had heard Tommy apply to the parrot.
She snatched the broken sword of the sword-fish from Tommy's hand, and tried to replace it. But though she succeeded in wedging it into the wood, it failed to stop the hole entirely. Without loss of time she seized her paddle and started for the shore, about a quarter of a mile distant. But the canoe had shipped a considerable quantity of water, and this was being continually increased by the inflow through the leak. It sunk lower and lower, and every minute answered less readily to Fangati's paddle. It soon became clear to the girls that the canoe must sink long before they reached the shore. They could easily gain the land by swimming, but the canoe could not be recovered if it sank.
Between them and the shore a rock stood just above the surface. It was only about a hundred yards away, and Fangati, exerting all her strength, drove the canoe towards it, and reached it in the nick of time. In another few seconds the canoe must have foundered.
There was not much room on the rock. Tommy scrambled on to it, while Fangati, slipping over into the sea, prepared to help Tommy drag the canoe up, so that they might tilt the water out of it, and try to stop the leak with a handkerchief, or a part of Tommy's skirt.
They had just begun to tilt the canoe when Tommy caught sight of a small dark object on the surface of the sea about thirty or forty yards away. It was the fin of a shark.
"Fangati, quick!" she called, holding out her hands to help the girl clamber on to the rock.
Fangati's back was towards the shark and she did not understand what the peril was. But the note of terror in Tommy's voice alarmed her. She let go her hold of the canoe, gained the edge of the rock in two strokes, and with Tommy's help scrambled up just as the shark glided past into the deep water beyond.
"Eh! Eh!" exclaimed Fangati, when she saw the reason of Tommy's fright. "I no aflaid, what fo' aflaid of he? You see, all-same."
She was about to dive into the sea and swim after the canoe, which was already drifting away, but Tommy caught her and held her fast. "No, no, you mustn't," she cried anxiously.
"Boat lun kick," cried Fangati in excitement.
The canoe, relieved of the girls' weight, would no doubt float longer than if they had still been in it, but Tommy realized that it must soon sink.
"Never mind," she cried. "Better lose the canoe than lose you."
Fangati stood beside her for some time, but Tommy soon became aware of a double danger. The tide was rising. Every moment the ripples washed a little farther over the rock: by and by this would be completely submerged and they would have to swim to the shore. The thought of this necessity filled Tommy with terror. The shark had disappeared only for a moment. She could now see it again, circling about the rock, as if it knew that it had only to bide its time and the girls would fall an easy prey. As soon as there was sufficient depth of water on the rock they would be absolutely defenceless against the monster's hungry jaws.
Clinging to Fangati, Tommy called aloud for help; then, glancing shorewards, recognized that there was little chance of her voice being heard through the belt of woodland that separated her from the camp.
The sea now thinly covered the rock. The canoe was rocking on the tide several yards away; the fin of the shark could still be seen as it wheeled around. Fangati, as well aware of the danger as Tommy, could remain inactive no longer.
"Knife!" she cried eagerly, pointing to Tommy's pocket.
"What are you going to do?" asked Tommy.
"You see. Kick! kick!" said the girl.
"Don't leave me," pleaded Tommy, handing her the knife.
Fangati looked around as if in search of something. Suddenly she snatched Tommy's handkerchief, which was tucked into her belt, and dived off the rock. When she disappeared Tommy saw the handkerchief floating. In a moment the shark rushed silently through the water, attracted by the splash. As it came beneath the handkerchief, which Fangati had dropped as a decoy, she came up beneath it and plunged the knife deep into its side. Then she dived again and disappeared.
The shark, thrashing the water into foam, dashed about in zigzag fashion. Tommy watched it fascinated, fearing that it might have struck Fangati. But in a moment she heard the girl's merry laugh behind her. Fangati came up on the farther side of the rock, on to which she clambered, splashing through the water to Tommy's side. The girls watched the gradually weakening movements of the monster, until at length with a final heave it sank to the bottom.
"S'im! S'im!" cried Fangati, pointing to the shore.
"Oh, I couldn't," said Tommy, clinging to the girl.
The possibility of there being other sharks between her and the shore unnerved her. Yet if she remained on this rock she must be washed off presently by the fast-rising tide. She was in a terrible state of anxiety, aware that she could not keep her footing long, yet unable to face the risk of being caught by a shark. Fangati seemed to guess at her state of mind. Disengaging herself from Tommy's grasp, without waiting for objections, she slipped off the rock and swam rapidly after the canoe, which was drifting farther and farther down the coast. Tommy watched her anxiously. Would she reach the canoe safely? Could she return with it in time?
The water was now up to Tommy's waist; she could hardly keep her footing as the tide surged over the rock. The gap between the little black head and the canoe was steadily diminishing. Tommy gave a gasp of relief as she saw that Fangati had overtaken the little craft. But what was she doing? She had swum beyond it. In a moment Tommy saw the explanation: the paddle had drifted beyond the canoe, and the swimmer had to recover it first. Fangati caught the paddle, turned about, and swimming back to the canoe, climbed over its side.
Tommy was seized with a sickening fear that help would come too late. The waves were tumbling over the rock with increasing force: her feet were lifted: she had the presence of mind to tread water, but was all the time in a state of nervous terror, expecting a shark to come up and snatch her in its horrid jaws. She felt that Fangati in the water-logged canoe could not reach her in time. Again she screamed for help.
"SHE FELT THAT FANGATI COULD NOT REACH HER IN TIME.""SHE FELT THAT FANGATI COULD NOT REACH HER IN TIME."
"SHE FELT THAT FANGATI COULD NOT REACH HER IN TIME.""SHE FELT THAT FANGATI COULD NOT REACH HER IN TIME."
There came an answer from behind her. Turning her head, scarcely able to keep afloat, she saw Elizabeth in the dinghy sculling towards her. She swam frantically to meet her: to regain a foothold on the rock was now impossible. Elizabeth, glancing over her shoulder, called a cheery word, and pulled so as to meet her sister. A few more strokes brought them together. Elizabeth shipped oars, but found that she could not lift Tommy into the dinghy without assistance. Luckily Fangati was close at hand in the canoe, now so full of water as to be on the point of sinking. When she arrived Tommy was got into the boat, and lay down exhausted. Elizabeth pulled her rapidly to land, while Fangati, disdaining sharks, leapt into the sea, and swam, pushing the canoe in front of her.
Tommy was very contrite when Elizabeth lifted her on to dry land. "I won't do it again, Bess," she murmured, clinging to her sister. "I oughtn't to have gone so far. I was nearly drowned."
"Never mind, dear," said Elizabeth. "It's all right now. I was a little anxious when I got back and found you still away, and I'm so glad I came to look for you. Do you know, when I caught sight of Fangati and couldn't see you I had a most horrible fear. What happened? Why didn't you swim ashore?"
Tommy told her the whole story. Elizabeth forbore to reproach her. She saw that the young girl had suffered a terrible fright, and it would not be necessary to enforce the lesson. She gave Fangati warm praise for what she had done, and Tommy's fondness for the native girl was deepened by this adventure they had shared.
Since their change of residence the girls had used a fresh look-out station. The precipice which they had noticed when they first caught sight of Maku's hut was very lofty, and from its summit a more extensive outlook could be obtained than any they had yet enjoyed. Its face was unscalable; but Fangati had discovered a means of reaching its top from the rear. The way was steep and arduous, but the girls made light of it. Every day one of them climbed to the summit, and cast a searching glance over the sea; but for weeks in succession they saw no vessel, large or small.
One afternoon, however, Mary was startled on reaching the summit to see in the distance a small fleet of native canoes approaching the island. She ran down the hillside at full speed with the news. Maku instantly sent Fangati up to examine the vessels, and when by and by she declared that they were canoes from her own island the old man shook with fright.
The visit was what he had long expected and dreaded. His people were coming with their new chief to perform the usual ceremonies in the cave. He knew that if he were discovered he could expect no mercy; the mystery men would seize upon him, and their followers, inflamed with religious frenzy and palm wine, would tear him to pieces.
The younger girls were beside themselves with terror. But Elizabeth rose to the occasion. She saw that Maku, with a kind of fatalism, was disposed to await his destiny without stirring a hand to avert it; but a possible means of escape at once occurred to her. The canoes were still some distance out at sea. The usual landing-place was near the girls' old settlement on the other side of the island. It would probably be dark before the savages landed, so that twelve or more hours might elapse before the danger became pressing. In that time it would be possible to demolish the huts, obliterate the most tell-tale traces of habitation, and convey enough food to the pit to last them until the unwelcome visitors had completed their rites and taken their departure. The existence of the pit was unknown to them, and though it was impossible to cover it, there was a chance that, if the savages should light upon it, they would imagine it to be an old breadfruit pit, as Maku had done, and never suspect that it communicated with the cave.
She explained her plan rapidly to the others. Maku was inclined to do nothing, but the girls were feverishly ready to attempt any means of escape. Elizabeth sent Fangati to the top of the cliff to watch the canoes, bidding her be careful to keep out of sight. Then with her sisters she set to work to tear down their light hut and cast its materials into the stream. This would carry them to the sea, and as the current flowed away from the landing-place they would soon drift beyond observation. Before long the energy of the girls galvanized Maku into activity. He demolished his hut in the same way.
They then destroyed their fire-places, covered up the blackened earth with sand, and threw into the stream all the litter that betokened occupation. It was impossible to remove all traces; the vegetation around the little settlement was trampled, and nothing but time could undo that.
"What about the boat and canoe?" said Tommy.
"We must drag them up among the trees and hope that they will not be discovered," replied Elizabeth. "Luckily, there are no fruit-trees in that clump by the shore, so there's nothing to take the savages there."
The boats were soon hidden among the undergrowth. Then they collected their little belongings, kettle, cups, fishing-line and spears, and all the food they had at hand. They made their mat-beds into hammocks by stringing them at the corners with creepers, and filled these with all they wished to carry away. By this time it was nearly dark. Fangati, flying down the hillside, reported that the canoes had entered the lagoon by the gap in the reef and had now passed from sight. It was clear that they were making for the usual landing-place. Maku said that the people would camp for the night on the shore, next day roam the island in search of food, and in the evening hold a great feast in the cave.
Having made all their preparations, they set off towards the pit laden with the hammocks.
"Oh, we can't take Billy," said Elizabeth, noticing that the parrot was perched on Tommy's shoulder. "His screaming would ruin us."
Tommy was distressed at the thought of leaving her old pet behind, but there was clearly no help for it. The bird's wings being clipped it could not fend for itself very well, and Tommy decided to carry it down to the boat and leave it there with enough food for several days. She kissed it on parting, fearing that she might never see it again.
They found their ladder where they had left it among the trees. After letting down the hammocks they descended one by one, removed the ladder, and retreated towards the entrance of the tunnel. Their passage had left traces on the ground above, which must betray them if the keen-eyed savages came that way; but there was nothing to bring them in that direction; and the girls hoped that the pit would be a secure hiding-place during the three days the savages might be expected to spend on the island.
The fruits they had brought with them would supply them with food and drink for several days. The lack of water, which might have otherwise distressed them, was partially made up by the juice of oranges and cocoa-nuts.
They found the atmosphere of the pit close and unpleasant, but Elizabeth reflected that if nothing happened to alarm them they might climb up at dead of night and get a little fresh air while the savages were sleeping.
The girls had little sleep during the first night. Every few minutes they would wake and listen, wondering if by some unlucky chance their hiding-place had been discovered. They were still more uneasy when day broke. What were the savages doing? Fangati offered to climb up and spy upon them, but Elizabeth would not permit this. While they all remained in the pit they were safe; if the savages should catch sight of any one, they would, almost certainly, never rest until they had discovered the whereabouts of the inhabitants.
The hours of daylight dragged slowly away. The girls scarcely dared to speak. Several times Fangati stole along to the end of the tunnel to see if the savages had yet entered the cave; but there was no sign of them until the afternoon was far advanced. Then the girl ran back to report that there was a great noise below. She had been much too frightened to stay any longer; but Maku now said that he would go and learn who the people were.
He was absent so long that the girls began to be alarmed, and were thinking of going in search of him, when they heard the light rustle of his footsteps. On rejoining them he groaned heavily.
"What is the matter?" asked Elizabeth anxiously.
The old chief groaned again. He did not reply to Elizabeth, but spoke in a low tone rapidly to Fangati. The girls had picked up a good many native words, but their knowledge of the language was not sufficient for them to understand this conversation. From Maku's groans and Fangati's exclamations of distress they gathered that the chief had made some disagreeable discovery, and Elizabeth at length insisted on his telling her what troubled him.
The girls were horrified when they heard what he had to say. The cave was full of his own people. Among them he had seen, by the light of their torches of cocoa-nut husks, the new chief, a young man who was high in favour with the mystery men and had led the revolt against himself. But what had distressed him was the sight of a prisoner lying bound against the wall of the cave. It was a white man, and Maku was almost sure it was the "mikinaly." The mystery men could only have one object in bringing a white missionary to the scene of their dreadful orgies: he was to be offered up as a sacrifice to their heathen deities.
At this terrible news the girls' blood ran cold. Dreadful as the horrors of cannibalism had been to their imagination, the knowledge that the reality would soon be enacted so near at hand was overpowering. The thought of any human creature being tortured and killed in cold blood was agony to them; and that the victim should be a white man, a fellow-countryman, within reach of them, and yet beyond their help, caused them to shrink and quiver as with actual physical pain.
For some time they sat in silence, clasping their arms about each other.
Every now and again the old man uttered a groan. They could not see one another in the darkness, and Tommy's match-lighter was exhausted, so that they could not obtain a light; but the girls were conscious by a sort of electric sympathy that Maku and even gay-hearted little Fangati were scarcely less affected than themselves.
"Will it be to-night?" asked Elizabeth presently, in a whisper.
"No, no," replied Maku; "two days, flee days, den all gone."
This answer only increased the horror of the situation. The victim was to linger through three days anticipating his cruel death. The savages knew not so much mercy as to send him early to his doom.
"He no 'flaid; he all-same good man," murmured Maku.
"I can't stand it," cried Elizabeth, springing up; "I must see for myself. Perhaps something can be done for him."
"Don't, Bess!" exclaimed Tommy, clinging to her. "What can you do? They may see you."
"No, they can't do that. I must go. Perhaps if I screamed at them they would take me for an evil spirit and run away."
"But what then?" said Mary. "You could not go round and release the poor man; you would be seen."
"Yes; it was a foolish idea. But something may suggest itself. Oh, I can't bear to think about the poor man."
"If you go, I go too," said Tommy. "I won't leave you."
The two set off, and felt their way stumblingly through the passage. Presently they were aware of a pungent aromatic smell, that increased as they went on. This was explained when they reached the opening in the wall; looking over stealthily, they saw, sixteen or twenty feet below them, on the floor of the cave, a strange bewildering sight. A ring of dusky men held aloft great flaring torches which gave out a heavy smoke that penetrated into the tunnel. Without the circle there stood a row of drummers beating a rhythmic music on their instruments; within, a crowd of men were leaping in wild gyrations, uttering frenzied yells. In the haze nothing could be seen distinctly; all was a confused whirl. The prisoner was quite invisible.
The dance continued for a long time, the movements becoming ever more violent and fantastic, the cries more frantic, the drumming more swift and vigorous. At last, when the din was at its highest, the drummers gave one tremendous crash and dropped their sticks. The whirling and the yells ceased as by magic; the performers flung themselves fainting on the ground; and there was a great silence. But only for a few minutes. Then the men leapt to their feet again, rushed to the side of the cave, and returned, bringing the food laid there in readiness, and many gourds filled with the fermented sap of palm-trees. The torch-bearers stuck their torches in crannies on the walls, and the whole company gave themselves up to feasting. The girls turned sick as they watched the ravening gluttony of the men, and withdrew their eyes.
"Let us go back," whispered Tommy.
"No, no, wait," said Elizabeth; "I want to know what will happen."
Crouching below the opening, they waited for what seemed hours. The barbarous noise continued, voices were raised in excitement; but presently the uproar diminished, and finally ceased. Glancing down again, they saw the natives lying in all sorts of attitudes. Exhausted by the orgy, drunken with wine, they had fallen into a heavy sleep.
Some of the torches had gone out. Though the illumination was dimmer, the smoke was so much less that objects could more easily be distinguished. Against the wall at the right hand the girls saw what appeared at first to be a large bundle. But in a few moments they recognized the form of a man—an old man with a long white beard.
"It is the missionary!" whispered Elizabeth, clenching her hands in an agony of despair.
Heroism is a plant of strange growth. It springs up suddenly, mysteriously, in unexpected places. A simple peasant girl, tending her flocks, hears a Voice; and she becomes a warrior, a leader of men, the saviour of her country. A maidservant, after a day of scrubbing floors and washing dishes, is darning stockings in the kitchen when she smells fire, rushes into the bedroom where the children are asleep, and carries them one by one through the flames into safety, at the cost of her own life.
Such opportunities fall to few. The most of us trudge a very unheroic journey through life. The road may be dusty, with ups and downs, dangerous corners and wearisome hills; but we plod along, keeping pretty closely to the highway, and taking great care at the crossings. It is only the odd one here and there who, by what we call the accident of circumstance, or by some compelling adventurousness of spirit, strays into the golden fields of romance, and is transformed into the shining semblance of a hero.
Yet the capacity for heroism may be latent under many a sober coat or homely apron. The town girl who shudders at a cow, the country girl who trembles at the looming of a motor omnibus, may show under the stress of some high emotion, at the call of some great emergency, qualities that match her with Joan of Arc or Alice Ayres.
Elizabeth Westmacott's life had been very simple and uneventful. She had had nothing more difficult to cope with than the ordinary crosses and perplexities of the daily round at the farm. She had never come face to face with mortal peril, or felt any stern demand upon her courage and endurance. But as she returned along the tunnel with her sister a great resolution shaped itself within her mind. A white man was in danger of his life; she would at least try to save him.
She was very quiet when she rejoined the little party in the pit. It was Tommy who, quivering with excitement, related to Mary what she had seen. The younger girls deplored the hapless condition of the old missionary; they wished he could be saved, but they felt the vanity of wishing. Elizabeth sat in silence, thinking hard.
"I must go up and get a breath of air," she said at last.
"I'll come too," said Tommy.
"No, dear, not yet; I want to be alone."
There was something in her tone that set her sister wondering.
"You'll be careful, Bess?" said Mary.
"Yes, I must be careful," was the reply.
Elizabeth climbed up the ladder. She was gone some time; her return was announced by a slight rustling thud upon the ground; something had been thrown into the pit.
"What is that?" asked Tommy. "Are you all right, Bess?"
"Quite right," said Elizabeth as she descended. "It is only a lot of creepers. We are going to make another ladder."
"Another! We don't want another."
"The first isn't long enough or the right sort. I am going to release the poor missionary."
The girls were for the moment speechless with amazement. Then Tommy said—
"You are mad, Bess; it is impossible. Don't talk such absolute rubbish."
"It isn't rubbish, dear. The savages are asleep. We can let down a rope ladder. I will climb down and cut his bonds. He will be safe if we get him into the tunnel."
"Oh, how insane you are! We shan't let you do any such thing."
"You are bound to wake them, Bess," said Mary; "you know how lightly savages sleep. They are just like dogs, and wake at a whisper."
"Not when they have fuddled themselves. Imustdo it, girls. I can't bear to leave the poor old man to his fate without trying to help him. It is possible, and you must help me."
Protest, entreaty, expostulation, were alike vain. Even when Tommy, with an air of triumph, exclaimed, "The hole isn't big enough for you to squeeze through," Elizabeth simply replied, "Then we must make it bigger."
Tommy knew from old experience that her elder sister was rather slow to make up her mind about anything; but when it was made up nothing would turn her. Some people called it firmness, I dare say there was a touch of obstinacy as well. It was evident that Elizabeth was thoroughly determined now, and the younger girls at length desisted from their attempts to dissuade her, and agreed to help.
Leaving Mary to assist Maku and Fangati in constructing a light ladder from the creepers she had gathered, Elizabeth set off with Tommy to return to the cave end of the tunnel. They had their knives with them. On arriving at the hole, they saw that the natives were still asleep, and several of the torches were almost burnt out. The dimmer light favoured their work of enlarging the hole, which, as Tommy had said, was too narrow by several inches for Elizabeth to pass through, still less the rescued prisoner.
When Elizabeth said that the hole must be made bigger, she had no definite knowledge whether it was possible. It was characteristic of her to form a resolution and then bend everything towards its accomplishment. If she had had a favourite motto it would have been "Where there's a will there's a way." Nevertheless, it was with some anxiety that she examined the hole. One side of it was solid rock; it would be a week's work to make any impression on it with their knives. But the other side was of a more friable character. It appeared to be formed of fragments that had settled down, and become compacted by the weight above. A tentative chipping at this with her knife showed Elizabeth that it would not be a difficult matter to scrape away enough to enlarge the hole by more than a foot.
There was danger in the task. Work as carefully as they might, it would be impossible to prevent some of the chips and dust from dropping into the cave. Luckily, none of the sleepers was immediately beneath the hole; and Elizabeth thought that by working carefully, collecting the larger chips and placing them on the floor of the tunnel, they might obviate the risk of awakening the men by the noise of falling stones.
They set to work very quietly, not daring even to whisper to each other. By making boring movements with the points of their knives they brought away a good deal of fine dust, which they took in their hands as far as possible and cast at their feet. Whenever they found that a piece of rock of any considerable size was becoming loosened they ceased work altogether with their knives and worried it out with their fingers. At such times the fall of a certain quantity of dust into the cave could not be avoided, and more than once they stopped, holding their breath as they listened for some signs of disturbance below. But all went well. All that troubled them was the terrible slowness of the work. They were certainly enlarging the hole, but every inch seemed to take an hour. Elizabeth wondered anxiously whether they would have finished before daylight, when it would be too late to go further with her plan.
Thinking of this, her attention strayed for a moment from her work; and before she could do anything to prevent it, a large fragment of rock became detached, and fell with a crash upon the floor of the cave. The girls started back, a cold shiver running through them. They heard voices, but not so loud or excited as they expected. They dared not look out at the hole, in case they were spied from below; but they guessed that only a few of the sleepers had been awakened, and when, after some minutes, the sounds diminished and ceased altogether, they drew breath again.
Apparently the natives had not been alarmed; such falls of rock from the roof of the cave were probably not uncommon. After an interval they resumed their work with renewed courage, not, however, presuming on their immunity, but taking even more care than before. A second fall might not pass so easily.
They continued at the task for hours. The torches in the cave went out one by one. When only one was left alight Elizabeth looked at her watch. It was past four o'clock. The hole seemed to her now wide enough to admit any ordinary man: but clearly it was too late to attempt the more difficult part of her plan. She was tired out. It would take some time to fetch the rope ladder from the pit, and before the prisoner could be released and brought up into the tunnel, daylight might be upon them. Besides, the feasters would have slept off the effect of their orgy, and there would be a perilous risk of their awakening. She thought it best to return to the pit and sleep. If Maku was right, there was still more than thirty hours' respite, and she would need all her strength and composure of mind for the final effort.
The two girls dragged themselves wearily through the tunnel. Half-way they heard footsteps approaching them.
"Who's that?" cried Tommy.
"I'm so glad you are safe," replied Mary. "We have finished the ladder, though it wasn't easy to make it in the dark, and I was getting anxious about you."
"We shall have to put it off until to-night," said Elizabeth. "The hole is large enough now, but it is too late to do any more. We are dead-beat and so terribly thirsty."
They returned to the pit and refreshed themselves with cocoa-nut juice. But this was a poor substitute for water, and when Fangati heard them say how they longed for water to drink, and to bathe their hands and faces, she volunteered to climb up and bring full cups from the stream that ran hard by. There was still an hour of darkness left, so Elizabeth agreed, and the young girl clambered up the ladder, carrying two of their tin cups. She returned very quickly, and made the journey a second time: the girls, after bathing their heads with wet handkerchiefs, lay down and slept the sleep of exhaustion.
It was high noon when they awoke, ravenously hungry. Elizabeth carried the new ladder out into the pit, where there was sufficient light to examine it. Considering that it had been made in darkness it proved a wonderfully successful piece of work, and only needed strengthening here and there.
"How will you fix it at the hole, Bess?" asked Tommy. "There is nothing to fasten it to."
"I had thought of that. The only way is to bind the top end of it to a long cane or stem—too long to pass through the hole. That will do it, I think. I wish we had our boat-hook."
"Suppose it should break?"
"I am sure that the ladder won't break: those creepers are extraordinarily tough, as you know. And half the strain will be borne by the wall, so that the pole ought not to snap. With God's help we shall succeed, dear."
"I am dreadfully afraid, Bess."
"The only thing I'm afraid of is the savages finding this pit. If they should come to it they would certainly notice the newly-trampled ground, and I don't think anything could save us then. But we must hope for the best."
The day passed all too slowly. How they longed for night to come! They could not feel easy in mind until they were sure that their hiding-place was not discovered. Yet the younger girls dreaded the night equally, for though the first part of Elizabeth's plan was safely accomplished, they could not think without horror of their sister descending among the savages. Elizabeth's quiet confidence amazed them. All that disturbed her was the fear that the prisoner might not be spared until nightfall.
Several times during the day she went to the end of the tunnel and looked over into the cave. On one of these occasions the place was empty except for the prisoner, who lay where she had seen him before, motionless. Was he still alive? Had his captors given him food and drink? She felt an intense compassion for the poor man. Would there be time, she wondered, to set him free now, before the savages returned? She blamed herself for not bringing the ladder with her; but reflected that she could not have known that the cave would be deserted. Probably by the time she had fetched the ladder and come back with Maku and some of the others to assist her, the opportunity would have passed.
But she might speak to the prisoner and let him know that an attempt would be made to save him. She looked anxiously towards the mouth of the cave. Nobody was in sight. No sound came from the exterior. She might at least venture to make a sound that would attract the attention of the prisoner and yet not arouse suspicion if it were heard by the natives. Leaning slightly over the ledge, she gave a low whistle. The prisoner did not stir. There was no sign that the sound had been heard, either by him or by another. She whistled again rather more loudly. Still no sign. Taking courage she bent still lower, and called in a low, clear tone—
"White man!"
She could think of no other form of address. Maku had not told her the missionary's name: she had not thought to ask it.
"White man!" she repeated.
The light was dim, but it seemed to her that the prostrate form moved. "White man, do you hear me?" she said, panting, watching the entrance of the cave intently, stretching her ears for the slightest sound.
There came a murmur from below.
"Do you hear me?" she called again.
"Yes," was the answer, in a tone so faint that she could scarcely catch it. "Who speaks?"
"Listen!" said Elizabeth. "Friends are here—English friends. To-night you will be set free. You will have to climb a ladder; do you understand?"
"I hear," said the voice. "God bless you!"
"Hush!" said Elizabeth in a quick whisper: she had seen a shadow pass across the entrance. She withdrew her head. A man entered, followed by others, their arms full of food for the night's feast.
She hurried back to the pit, thrilling with excitement.
"He is alive!" she cried. "I have spoken to him, I told him we would save him to-night."
"Oh, why did you!" said Mary tremulously. "Suppose you can't do it! the poor man will be restless all day. The savages may notice it and be on their guard."
"I am sure I did right," said Elizabeth. "It will be best for him to be prepared. If he were released without warning he might be too much overcome to collect himself, and our chance would be lost. As it is he will know what to expect and be ready to help. Oh, I wish it were dark!"
Knowing how much depended on her calmness and self-possession, Elizabeth tried to sleep, but her nervous excitement made this impossible. She employed herself during the remaining hours of daylight in testing and strengthening the ladder, and especially in ensuring that the loops through which the supporting pole was to pass were strong enough to bear the strain. The pole could not be obtained until the fall of night rendered it safe to issue from the pit. She explained carefully to Maku and Tommy, who were to help her, how they should hold the pole in position across the lower part of the hole, and how, if they found that she had been discovered, they were to draw up the ladder immediately and remain perfectly quiet. At this Tommy's lips trembled: the idea of losing Elizabeth was dreadful. But she determined not to increase the difficulty of her sister's task by any show of agitation, and accepted her instructions without a word.
As for Maku, he had all along said nothing either for or against the scheme. He seemed to have lost all individuality and to move like an automaton at Elizabeth's bidding.
"What is your missionary's name?" she asked him.
He gave a native name which he was unable to translate; the English name he had either forgotten or never heard.
As soon as the first shades of evening descended, Elizabeth and Fangati climbed out of the pit, and after a little search returned with a stout sapling, which, when a few inches had been snapped off, gave a rod not so long as the breadth of the tunnel at the farther end, but longer than the width of the hole. Having fastened the rope ladder firmly to this, Elizabeth gave it to Maku to carry, and led the way along the tunnel. She had wished Mary to remain with Fangati at the pit, but Mary declared that she could not bear to be left behind wondering in the agony of suspense, so the whole party set off, Elizabeth impressing on them all the need of perfect silence.
They came to the end. The glare, the acrid smoke, the strident voices, proclaimed that the ceremonies had already begun. Elizabeth gave one glance into the cave, and having seen that the prisoner was still in the same position she withdrew her eyes; the bestial conduct of the savages sickened her. Hour after hour passed. The din was hideous. It seemed that the ceremonies on this second night were being prolonged. But presently they came to the same sudden end as before. The drumming and the frenzied chant ceased; instead were heard the sounds of men engaged in riotous feasting. Maku was restless; his faded eyes lit up. Elizabeth remembered that he must have taken part in similar orgies, and felt a nervous dread lest the excitement should communicate itself to him, and he should by some sudden outcry betray his presence. She laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered—
"Remember your friend there."
The old man gave a sigh, and shrank away from the hole, murmuring incomprehensibly in his own tongue.
As on the previous night, the intoxicating liquor drunk by the rioters produced its effect in somnolence. One by one they threw themselves back and fell into swinish slumber. At last there was silence. Several of the torches had gone out and not been replaced. Elizabeth thought her chance of success would be greatest if she waited until only one or two remained alight. She could not wait for absolute darkness, for some light was necessary for her task, and she must act while the sleep of the natives was heaviest.
Now that the critical moment had come she was strangely calm. All nervousness and excitement had vanished; her whole being was possessed by one dominating idea—the rescue of the prisoner. Noiselessly she let down the flexible ladder, which lay close against the wall. Then seeing that Tommy and Maku had grasped the ends of the small pole as she had instructed them, she prepared to clamber through the aperture. At the last moment Mary flung her arms round her neck and kissed her passionately; then she was gone.
She slipped down the ladder very quickly on her bare feet, carrying her open knife. She stood on the floor. The men were for the most part stretched towards the middle of the cave, but one or two lay near the prisoner. Pausing just one moment to look around, she moved quickly along the wall, holding her skirts close about her as she passed the sleepers. She came to the prisoner and stooped. His eyes were open. She dared not cut his bonds with rapid strokes, for fear the snapping should be heard. Gently she sawed the tendrils that were wound round about his whole body, all her senses alert. It seemed ages before the bonds were all loosened and removed.
The prisoner did not stir. Elizabeth beckoned to him, but with his eyes he seemed to try to explain that he was helpless. One of the natives moved uneasily, and for one intolerable moment Elizabeth lost her head. Then she understood: the prisoner's bonds had been so tightly drawn, and he had so long remained in the one position, that his limbs were numbed. Slipping to her knees, she began to chafe his legs. A man at the far end of the cave gave a cough, and a hot wave surged through the girl. At that moment she could have wished the earth to open and swallow her. But once again there was silence, and the terror passed.
In a few minutes the prisoner was able to move his legs. Alternately bending and straightening them, he felt them tingling with the coursing blood. Elizabeth rose, glanced timorously round, and held out her hands to him. He got up, staggered, and would have fallen but for her sustaining arms. There was not enough space for both to pass abreast between the wall and the prostrate natives. Walking backwards, Elizabeth led him slowly towards the waiting ladder. Every step was painful to him, and as he crept feebly on, Elizabeth's heart misgave her; would he have the strength to climb? They came to the foot of the ladder. All the torches were now extinguished save one. Complete darkness would have been welcome if only Elizabeth could have had confidence in the old man's strength. She pointed to the ladder, then upwards towards the gap. The missionary understood. For an instant Elizabeth hesitated. Should she go first, leaving the prisoner to follow, or see him in safety before she mounted herself? A moment's consideration showed her that she must be the first to climb. Maku and Tommy would need all their strength to keep the pole in position; the missionary was tall and no light weight; he could not scramble through the hole unaided; therefore she must be there to help him. She dared not speak to him, but in dumb show she indicated what he must do. He nodded. Then she gave a slight tug upon the ladder as a sign to those above, and nimbly mounted.
She reached the top, slid through the hole, and looked back. The old man was beginning to climb. With fast-beating heart she watched him, dreading that now, even at the last moment, he might miss his footing and fall back among his mortal enemies. They slept on. Slowly, carefully, the climber drew himself up. To Elizabeth, fixing her eyes on him, it seemed that he would never reach her. The ladder creaked; would the sleepers waken? She looked anxiously towards them; they did not move. Inch by inch he came nearer; he had almost gained the top, when he swayed and for one terrible moment she thought he was lost. But with a great effort he recovered himself; he mounted again; his head was level with the hole. Elizabeth thrust out her arms, gripped his wrists, and drew him into the tunnel, holding him firmly with her strong, supple hands. He was through.
But his shoulders had pressed heavily upon the sides of the hole, and his feet had not touched the floor of the tunnel when several fragments of loosened rock fell and struck the ground with a resounding clatter. There was commotion below. Quick as thought Elizabeth drew up the ladder, leaving Mary to support the old man, whose efforts had exhausted him.
As the ladder came through the hole it caught a fragment of rock that lay on the ledge. Elizabeth dashed forward to prevent this from falling. But it escaped her and fell crashing to the ground at the feet of one of the natives, who was looking up in wonderment at the strange thing crawling as it were into the wall.
A yell proclaimed his discovery. All hope of secrecy was at an end. Instantly the cave was filled with uproar. The sleeping men had leapt to their feet. At first their cries were of amazement and alarm, but one blew the flickering torch into flame, others kindled fresh torches at it, and in the illumination they saw that their prisoner was gone. In his place were the severed bonds, and beside them Elizabeth's open knife, which in her anxious help of the old missionary she had forgotten.
With yells of rage the natives dashed hither and thither, pointing at the gap in the wall, in too great a frenzy of excitement to hit on a means of pursuing the prisoner. One picked up a trade gun and fired, but the uselessness of this must have been apparent to them all. Suddenly, at a word from their chief, six of them darted from the cave into the open. In a few minutes they returned, bringing two straight, young trees which they had uprooted from the loose soil outside. These they set against the wall, and with hideous shouts of anticipated triumph they began to swarm up towards the hole.