Читать книгу The Young Treasure Hunters - Alfred Judd - Страница 5

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HERE, beyond all question, was a continuation of the outer approach, but a good deal loftier and merging away into blackness. They could see exactly how the sandstone, crumbling down, had had the effect of nearly stopping up the passage.

“Fancy our never spotting that little crack before,” cried Jack. “I say, we must explore now—come along! It seems to get higher, farther in. I believe we shall be able to stand straight up!”

And this actually was the case, for they presently branched to the right and found themselves in quite a comfortable corridor. The character of the walls had changed, too; instead of the insecure sandstone, they were now moving between faces of hard, black rock, dripping in some parts and utterly chill everywhere.

In the flush of discovery, however, our two young explorers did not notice the chilliness. They pressed ardently onward, Joyce’s eyes round with wonder and her lips slightly parted.

Presently the alley broke into two. Taking the right-hand first, they came upon a blank barrier, and, returning, they tried the one on the left. During the next few minutes there were many such cases, and the story as told by old Dobble began to come thrillingly true.

Suddenly, however, Joyce had a disquieting thought, and she stopped short, catching at her brother’s sleeve.

“I say, Jack,” she exclaimed, “I’ve just remembered something else that Ben Dobble said!”

“Eh—what was that?” queried the other.

“Why, don’t you know—though we didn’t quite believe him then—he declared these tunnels were so muddled up together that it was quite possible to get lost in them!”

Jack, who had forgotten this, was decidedly startled by the reminder, but he was careful that his sister should not suspect it. “Why, of course,” he replied, “I remember old Ben saying that, but——oh, bother!”

The candle had burnt down to within half an inch, and the boy, to save scorching his fingers, had suddenly been compelled to drop it. Thus, on the instant, they found themselves in total darkness.

The girl gave a little cry, but Jack said, “What a nuisance!” and started fumbling at his feet. He secured the mite of candle at length, and set himself, in the blackness, to rub off the particles of grit which stuck to the warm wax.

“Yes,” he agreed then, keeping his voice as steady as he could, “I dare say we’d better go back. This atom of tallow isn’t much good now, I’m afraid, and, in any case, we’d better save it for a minute or so. But we ought to find our way back in the dark all right—and we can strike a match now and again.”

Having spoken thus heroically, he passed Joyce, directing her to keep close behind him and to hold on to his coat. In this fashion, very slowly, they fumbled along for awhile. Jack struck matches repeatedly, for the sake of cheering Joyce rather than with the idea of brightening the way. For the momentary illuminations thus obtained, lighting forward a yard or so only, were of little service to them; all they could do was to press along in hope of presently regaining the point from which they started.

“Oh, Jack, what an awful place it is!” whispered the girl, beginning, despite her natural courage, to feel more than a trifle frightened.

“Rubbish!” retorted the other; “I think it’s awfully jolly—just as good as old Dobble described it!”

“Yes, but you—you know what he said. When he came here as a boy he used to load his pockets with a lot of that crushed shell from the beach and sprinkle it as he went along. That was how he found his way back.”

“Ripping idea, too!” declared Jack, trying to laugh. “We’ll try that next time, and we’ll bring a lantern. Hallo, which way now—along here or down there?”

After stumbling upon a middle column of rock, the boy had scratched another match. Before them, as the flicker shot up, gaped the mouths of two distinct alleys. It was impossible to say by which they had come. Doubtfully, Jack led into that which seemed to be the more direct of the two. After a further three minutes’ progress, however, Joyce tugged at his arm.

“Oh, Jack, I am sure we’re going quite wrong. For one thing, I don’t believe we are walking towards the beach at all! If we were we should have reached it long before this!”

Jack bit his lip in the darkness. Beyond all doubt they had completely lost their bearings, but for the safety of both he knew that he must not utter one word of despair.

“Well, anyhow,” he argued doggedly, “whether we’re going towards the shore or not, it’s certain that we can’t be very far from it. And that’s the main thing. I wonder if Morrice and Tony have got down again? If so, it wouldn’t be a bad notion to shout.”

Thereupon they raised their voices, and, though the echo in that underground maze was very fearsome and eerie, they found that the sound of their own tones brought them singular relief. But there was no sort of response. When their cries had rolled and rolled away into the far, dim borings, there settled down a silence even more profound than before.

“But we’ll stick to it,” was Jack’s staunch remark. “If we keep on moving and keep on shouting we are almost bound to get an answer in the end.”

The boy spoke with confidence, whatever he felt, and he kept a tight hold on Joyce’s hand. As for Joyce, it testifies to her fund of endurance that she did not completely break down during the next trying quarter of an hour, though it is true that there was a decided quaver in her later efforts to call. Jack’s lungs, however, made up for any failing on the part of the little girl, till at length he ceased abruptly—to listen.

“What is it?” faltered Joyce.

She noticed presently a long, mumbling drone. “The sea!” she burst out.

“Yes, it must be—hooray!” Jack spent another match. “Let’s turn off here; come along, it’s something to have a notion of the direction. And now we’ll shout again!”

They lifted their voices and paused. Was it fancy? Surely not! After the echoes had died to silence, there had surely sounded, above the purr of the sea, a repeated “Hallo—hallo—o—o—o!”

Without further word, Jack pressed into the shadows, his sister close at his heels, and a few minutes later Joyce cried that she had seen a chink of daylight!

“Where?” questioned Jack. “I don’t see——”

“No, we’re beyond it, I think. Light another match. I believe we’ve just come past a by-way.”

They retraced their steps a little, and entering the new channel they were sure beyond doubt that they were now walking straight towards the sea. And a dim ray of daylight, very low down, glimmered ahead.

But even now their misgivings were not entirely dispelled, for on gaining that faint shaft of light they were able to go no farther. They were blockaded on every hand.

Jack was fumbling about him. Pulling out what remained of the candle, he managed to impale it upon the small blade of his pocket-knife. Then, when the wick was aglow, he let Joyce have the knife to hold. Before them was a jumble of broken sandstone, and it was between a mass of this that the light filtered through.

“Just as I guessed,” declared the boy; “do you see—it’s another collapse. But it

“Their retreat was cut off. The tide was entering the cave!”

looks as though a way might be cleared. Keep well on one side, Joyce.”

The confused pile had been shattered into quite small portions, and Jack, though he badly rasped his hands, had little real difficulty in lifting and flinging the stuff behind him. Every moment the patch of daylight became larger, so that hope lent strength to the task. The candle-wick, burning off from the blade, fell fluttering and expired. But it was no longer needed. The cleared opening was already big enough for them to creep out.

“Bravo!” said Jack, and he promptly squirmed through, reaching back a hand to help Joyce. They stood erect, the knowledge of their whereabouts flashing upon them both. They were in the Big Cave—the one which Joyce had first pointed out to Tony! But—their retreat was still cut off. As they hurried forward they found themselves confronted by a foaming barrier of rising water.

The tide was entering the cave!