CHAPTER XTHE ESCAPE
And the seventh day was the Sabbath! The Lord rested on the Sabbath! Sabbath! Seventh! Seventh! Sabbath! These words kept ringing in Alan’s ears as he lay quiet and tranquil in the darkness. He wondered where he was, but was too tired to make much effort to find out. His senses were dulled and his whole body ached; he could see nothing, for total darkness surrounded him. Then unconsciousness again overtook him, and he dreamed again of the Marshfielden fields and the rippling brooks.
When he awoke it was with a healthy feeling of hunger, and gradually his senses returned and he wondered where his cousin and Jez-Riah were. He called them by name, but there was no reply. He reached out on either side of him, but could feel nothing—he seemed to be alone. The silence was oppressive, the air heavy, and he found a great difficulty in breathing. He tried to think of the mad plunge for freedom into the swift underground river; he remembered feeling the cold waters close over him, followed by an interminable time under water when he could not breathe, when his lungs were bursting, longing to disgorge the used up air within him. Then he remembered a feeling of relief as he drew in a long breath of air, and afterwards—no more. He seemed to have fallen into a never ending dream. Now at last he realized he was safe again, and in his heart he thanked God for having watched over him and brought him once more to safety.
As the past events became clearer, Alan rose upcautiously, but his head came in contact with the roof of the place he was in. He went on all fours and groped his way round the place. It was very small, perhaps twenty yards in circumference, and perfectly dark. Suddenly his hand touched something, something warm. It was Jez-Riah, and, close beside her lay Desmond. He spoke to them each in turn—shook them, but they showed no sign of having heard him. He listened for their heart beats, but neither showed any sign of life.
The water that had carried them all to this new abode ran near, and Alan dragged the two bodies to the water’s edge. He dipped his hand in the cool liquid and found that it was only an inch or two deep at the most. He made a cup with his hands and dashed the water into his companions’ faces in turn, and at last was rewarded by a heavy sob from Jez-Riah and a groan from Desmond.
“Dez, old man, how are you feeling now? Jez-Riah, are you better?”
So from one to the other he turned, his only thought to bring them back to life and hope.
Suddenly Desmond spoke. “That was a near shave, Lanny.”
“How are you?”
“I feel beastly.”
“Where are we?” suddenly asked Jez-Riah.
“I’ve no idea. The river has either disappeared underground or we’ve been brought up a little side creek and left the main channel itself. There is very little water here—only a few inches at the most and it is running very sluggishly. There is a tunnel to the right up which we must have come, but it is very low; I can hear the sound of swiftly running waters, but I don’t feel strong enough to investigate in the dark.”
“Of course not, Alan,” answered Desmond, and then Jez-Riah said pathetically, “I am hungry, O Ar-lane.”
Alan shook his head wearily. “There is no food here. The purple light has gone. I am afraid we are far from the vegetation of the underworld.”
They talked in low tones for some time—they all feltill and weak. The papyrus and all their treasures were so far safe, and the censer still remained fast on Alan’s back. Their clothes were nearly dry, so they realized they must have been thrown up by the water for some considerable time. While they talked they suddenly heard the sound of heavy blows from somewhere above their heads. Then the sounds increased and they heard that which it was impossible for them to mistake—they knew it too well—the dull roar of blasting operations in a mine!
Alan’s eyes were shining. “Did you hear that?” he asked excitedly. “You know that sound? Haven’t you heard that dull roar in the pit at Grimland?”
Desmond spoke huskily. “You mean that we are—”
“We are immediately below a mine. White men are not far away, I am sure. They may be Britishers like ourselves—oh, how can we get to them?”
Wildly they hacked at the roof above them, but the sounds they made were puny and little and made no impression in the distance. Tired and weary they all fell asleep, and when they awoke there was silence everywhere. They were suffering terribly from hunger; could they have seen themselves they would have been shocked at their appearance. Pale, emaciated, with hollowed eyes and deep furrowed cheeks, they looked almost like old men, instead of youths still in the glory of their manhood.
They fell into a stupor, and hardly roused themselves, so weak and tired were they, when all at once there came upon their ears a mighty explosion which shook the place they were in and sent stones and rocks hurtling all about them in the darkness. Then came a rumbling deep and terrible.
“It’s all right,” whispered Alan. “They are only blasting again.” But neither Desmond nor Jez-Riah answered him. Weak and hungry they lay inert and senseless upon the ground. The throbbing overhead began again, and Alan alone in his agony beat at the roof with his hands, but realizing his weakness fell on the ground beside his cousin and gave vent to dry, hard sobs.
He listened to his cousin babbling meaninglessly in the throes of fever, and he heard the pitiful cry of the purple woman as she asked for water to moisten her parched mouth. Then he too gave way. Strong and brave he had been through all their privations, but he cried and chattered insanely to the figures he conjured up in the darkness. Death was hovering near them; the Black Angel was standing by them, and the Reaper had his scythe in his hand only waiting for the opportunity that he hoped would come, and that would enable him to cut down three more sheaves for his well stocked granary.
“I can’t think where the water comes from, Mr. Vermont. There must be a hidden spring somewhere. Can I have the pumps going and make preparations for an excavation?”
“Certainly, Mennell, when you like,” and William Mennell, foreman of the Westpoint Gold Mines in Walla Balla, Australia, started his preparations.
The part of the mine he was working on at the moment was overrun with water, which made the working very difficult, and was causing a great deal of anxiety about the ultimate safety of the mine. The pumps were made ready, a shaft was sunk, and they began to work.
“The trouble is there, sir,” said he, indicating the ground under his foot. “I’ll have it all up to-morrow.” By six the next morning the men were hard at work, and merrily they shovelled the earth aside, cracking jokes meanwhile. Suddenly one of the men lurched forward and gave a cry as he threw himself backward on the ground behind him.
“What’s up, Bill? Tea too strong this morning?”
“Take care,” he shouted. “There’s a landslip or something. My spade went right through. There’s a hole there.”
Carefully they examined the place, and found that the ground was not solid beneath, but below yawned a pitch dark cavern.
“Where is Mr. Mennell? What had we better do?”
Mennell came up. “Got a lantern, boys?” he asked. “Let’s see how deep it is.” They tied a miner’s lantern on to the end of a red neckerchief and let it down. “H’m, only about eight feet—during the blasting the land must have slipped. My God,” he shouted. “Ropes! Ladders! I’m going down.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Ferrers, one of his pals. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
Mennell wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Look down there, Ferrers,” said he hoarsely. “Can you see anything?”
Ferrers took hold of the lantern and peered down into the blackness. Then suddenly he stood up and looked closely into Mennell’s face. “There is something there,” said he in an awe-struck voice. “Something that looks like men.”
“You saw too?”
“Aye, William.”
“Then it was no ghost.”
Down the rope ladder went Mennell, followed by Ferrers. They bent over the inanimate forms of Alan and Desmond Forsyth and gently carried them up into the mine.
“What’s that?” Ferrers pointed to a far corner of the cave.
“It’s a woman.”
Tenderly also was Jez-Riah carried up the swaying ladder. The miners were all speechless. How was it possible for three human beings to have got into such a position?
Reverently they were carried to the office at the bottom of the shaft where the manager was busy writing. Mennell told him what had happened, and the boys were laid side by side upon the floor. But when they looked at Jez-Riah they could not repress a shudder. She looked almost inhuman with her purple skin and protruding horn. They overcame their repugnance, however, and forced brandy between her parched lips.
Desmond opened his eyes first. “Is this Marshfielden?” he asked.
“It’s all right,” said Mr. Travers, the manager, kindly, and he offered him some more of the stimulant.
“Then I am alive?” He touched Mr. Travers’ hand. “God, I am among white people at last,” and he fell back again unconscious.
“The doc’s above,” said a man. “I’ve been on the ’phone. Beds are all prepared for them.”
So the two boys, wrapped in miners’ coats, were carried out into the sunlight once again. Alan, however, did not recover consciousness at all. He was worn out from hunger, fatigue and worry. Always the one to have a comforting word to cheer his companions, this last experience had been too much for him and he lay so still and quiet and cold, they feared it would be impossible to save him. And Jez-Riah? She had come to her senses and had called for Alan but the miners did not understand her, and drew away from her in fear.
“What shall we do with—it—her?” asked Mennell at last.
“Take her above and put her in Dr. Mackintosh’s care,” said Mr. Travers kindly.
“Right, sir.”
The day was perfect, the sun shining brightly, the sky was blue, a transparent blue, and the birds were singing gaily. The warmth of the sun’s rays came through the coat that was wrapped round Jez-Riah, and she struggled to be free of it. The men put her on the ground, and she stood, hands outstretched and gazed at the sun.
“Jovah. Har-Barim,” she cried, and smiled at the brightness all around.
Suddenly a change came over her features and she stepped out on to a grassy patch. A crowd of men watched her, and their expressions showed horror and intense fear. There was perfect silence for a moment, and suddenly a voice cried out in tones so hoarse as to be unrecognizable, “My God” and a man turned and fled. All the rest of the miners followed him, their faces white and strained, and little work was done that day at the mine.
And in a little saloon near by, half the men were drinking deeply, drinking to forget the horror they had just witnessed; and they laughed brazenly and made coarse jests in their fear, but not one of them spoke to the other of what he had seen.