CHAPTER III
THE CHIMNEY
Noiselessly the two spectators slipped away through the bushes.Startled by the discovery of a white man, whose very stillness declaredhim a prisoner in bonds among these dancing savages, they felt the needof talking freely, unrestrained by precautions against being overheard.They hurried along at the base of the cliffs until they were out ofearshot, then sat on a low rock where they could still see all that wenton around the fire.
'Can it be that planter fellow on the _Berenisa_? What was his name?'said Trentham.
'You mean Grimshaw; he was the only man besides ourselves who woreducks. I don't know. Grimshaw was a small man; the prisoner seemed abig fellow. I couldn't see his face.'
'Nor I. Whoever it is, I 'm afraid his number 's up.'
'I didn't take much stock of Grinson's yarns about cannibals, but itappears he 's right. The niggers would hardly bring their prisoner downthe chimney for the fun of it, or the trouble of taking him up again.'
'Did you see a cooking-pot?'
'No, I was too busy watching the dancers to look around.'
'We 'll have to get him away.'
'Whew! That's a tall proposition, Trentham.'
'Confoundedly; but we can't stand off and see a white man cut up! Hangit all, Hoole, it's too horrible to think about!'
'Ghastly. Yet remember where we are. We might get him loose, but whatthen? They 'd hunt us over this strip of beach, and we 've proved prettywell there 's nowhere to hide.'
'Our only chance is to get him up the chimney.'
'My dear man!'
'It may be out of the frying-pan into the fire, if there are more of thesavages on top, but down below his fate is certain, whereas----'
'But there 's the climbing. I 've done some in the Rockies, but I guessyou 're a tenderfoot at mountaineering, and as for the seamen----'
'If they can scramble up rigging, they ought to be able to manage thatchimney. I 'm sure I could. And really, there 's no time to lose. They're still drumming and dancing, but who knows when they 'll feel hungry?We had better bring up the others at once.'
They got up, and hastened towards their camping-place.
'It's the first step that costs,' remarked Hoole. 'How to get him awaywith the firelight full on him. It's a ticklish stunt.'
'We can but try--we must try! Hullo! Here 's Grinson.'
The two seamen stepped towards them from the shelter of a bush.
'We came to meet you, sir,' Grinson began.
'Hush, Grinson!' said Trentham. 'Muffle that organ-pipe of yours. Thesavages have got a white man.'
'Never!' exclaimed Meek, in husky astonishment.
'He 's lying tied to a bush there, apparently,' Trentham went on. 'Aman dressed in white.'
'Mr. Grimshaw! How did they get him?' said Grinson. 'He must have beencast ashore.'
'We don't think it's he, but it may be. Anyhow, we must try to rescuehim.'
'Save us, sir! We 'll only go into the pot too. It will be like takinga bone from a dog, only worse.'
'Worse ain't the word for it,' said Meek. 'And you 'd go first, Mr.Grinson, being a man of flesh.'
'Tough, Ephraim--uncommon tough, me lad. Any nigger of sense wouldrather have something young and juicy, like Mr. Trentham. I rememberonce----'
'Not now, Grinson,' Trentham interposed. 'We must make up our minds;there 's no time for recollections.'
'Plenty of time, sir. These 'ere cannibals never start cooking till themoon 's high aloft, and she 's only just peeping above the skyline.'
'That's a relief, if you 're right----'
'I can bear him out, sir,' said Meek.
'It gives us more time to make our plans. Our idea is, Grinson, if weget the prisoner away, to climb up that crack in the cliff; there's nosafety below. There may be danger above, of course; it's a choicebetween two evils. We meant to try our luck to-morrow, you know; weonly anticipate by a few hours, and though climbing will be moredifficult in the darkness than it would be in the light, you and Meekare used to clambering up the rigging at all hours and in allweathers----'
'Say no more about that, sir. We 'd back ourselves against cats.'
'Or monkeys,' suggested Meek.
'You 've got no tail, Ephraim. 'Tis not the climbing as I 've any fearabout, sir; 'tis first the bonfire, second what's up top, third andlast--there ain't no third, now I come to think of it.'
'The second we 've agreed to chance. The first--well, the only thing isto work round the savages and get between them and the chimney; then oneof us must creep or crawl as close to them as he can, and watch hisopportunity. There's no need for more than one.'
'That's my stunt,' said Hoole.
'Not at all. It's between you and me; we 're younger and quicker on ourpins than the others; but why you should have the most risky part of thejob----'
'The reason 's as clear as daylight. The quickest climber ought to golast. I allow that Grinson and Meek are probably more spry than I am inclimbing; but in any case they 're ruled out. You 've never climbed achimney--I have. I think that fixes it.'
'But the prisoner. It's unlikely he can climb quickly, and the last mancouldn't go faster than he.'
'You ought to have been a lawyer, Trentham. But I have you yet. Thelast man may have to hold the savages off while the prisoner, slow byhypothesis, does his climb. Then speed will be vital when he climbshimself--see?'
'Axing your pardon, sir, and speaking like a father, as you may say,'said Grinson, 'there 's only one way of settling a little difference so's to satisfy both parties. I 've seed many a quarrel nipped in thebud----'
'A quarrel, you juggins!' cried Trentham. 'There 's no quarrel!'
'Just so, sir--that's what I said. It's a difference, and a differencecan't never grow to be a quarrel if you just toss for it.'
'There 's our Solomon!' said Hoole. 'Spin up, Trentham!'
The rising moon gave light enough. Trentham spun a shilling.
'Heads!' Hoole called.
'Tails it is! That's settled!'
''Tis fate: you can't go agen it,' murmured Meek.
'Those fellows must be pretty tired, drumming away like that,' saidTrentham. 'But we had better make a start, Grinson. I think we oughtto take our biscuits and water: they 'll last us a day or two, and wedon't know what chances of getting food there 'll be on the cliff. Youand Meek fetch them along. We 'll wait for you here.'
'They took it well,' said Hoole, when the men had gone. 'I was afraidMeek would jib.'
'Meek 's all right,' responded Trentham. 'The British sailor-man has hisweak points, but he 's not a funk.'
He began to stride up and down with his hands in his pockets. Hoolewatched him for half a minute or so, then said:
'You 'd better take my revolver.'
'Why in the world?' said Trentham, swinging round on him.
'It may be useful--last resource, you know.'
'If we can't do without that---- Why, man, a shot would absolutely dishus, would be heard for miles, and bring up every cannibal there is.This job has got to be done quietly.'
'I reckon there 'll be a pretty big row when they miss their supper.Well, if you won't take it, remember I 've got it, anyway.'
Some fifteen minutes later the four men, in single file, were stealingalong the inner edge of the beach, close against the cliffs. Trentham,who was leading, took a zigzag course for the sake of cover from thescattered rocks and patches of vegetation. The seamen in the rear hadslung the provisions about their shoulders with lashings from the boat,and on their account Trentham set a slower pace than his anxiety to bein time would otherwise have commended. The fire was burning morebrightly, whiffs of acrid smoke were borne on the breeze, and the moon,about ten days old, appeared to have reached its greatest altitude, andwas accentuating every irregularity on the face of the cliffs.
As they drew nearer to the fire, Trentham moved still more
slowly,picking his way with care. Now and then some small animal, with a whiskand a rustle, scurried away in the undergrowth. Once Meek, who bore thekeg, tripped over what he declared was a monster crab, and fell forward,the keg hitting a rock with a sharp crack. The rest halted and heldtheir breath; had the sound been heard by the savages? The monotonousdrumming continued unbroken, and they went on.
Between the fire and the cleft that was their destination, grew thetangled vegetation in which Hoole had discovered the track of footsteps.It grew higher than their heads, and they were able to enter it withoutmuch risk of being observed. A few whispered words were exchangedbetween Trentham and Hoole, then the latter led the seamen towards thechimney, which stretched upwards like a black streak in the moonlitprecipice, while Trentham struck to the left, and crept cautiouslytowards the outer edge of the bushes, where he could look out upon thefestive scene.
His heart seemed to be making more noise than the drums. His lips weredry. The skin of his face felt tight. 'Nerves!' he thought, with angryimpatience. It was strange how, without the slightest consciousness offear, his mental realisation of all that was at stake thus affected hisbody. Taking a grip of himself, he went forward and peered through thestiff crinkled foliage. For a few moments he saw nothing but the glareof the fire; then, as he gathered self-command, he was able to take indetails which he had missed at his view a short while before.
The dancers were still swaying to and fro. At one side, crouched on thesand, were two men holding in one hand an object like a huge dice-box,and with the other beating a skin, as he supposed, stretched across thecircular end. At the other side, near the fire, stood two ironcooking-pots. Beyond, in the same place, lay the motionless whitefigure. Everything was clearly illuminated by the flames, and Trenthamwondered, with a feeling of despair, how it would be possible toapproach the prisoner unseen.
A few minutes after his arrival, the dance and the drumming came to anabrupt end. In the ensuing silence he heard the wash of the waves beyondthe wreck, and a strange squealing grunt which, until then, had beendrowned by the deep tones of the drums and the barking cries of the men.One of the savages, who wore a tall feathered headdress, glanced up atthe moon, and said a few words to the others. All of them squatted onthe sand except two, who went to the bush, some twenty yards away, towhich the prisoner was bound. Trentham's blood ran cold. He wished hehad brought Hoole's revolver, for it seemed that nothing else could savethe helpless man, and he was on the point of shouting for Hoole, when apiercing squeal, such as no human being ever uttered, gave him at once ashock and a sense of relief. Next moment the savages returned towardsthe fire, one of them carrying the body of a small pig.
Trentham almost laughed as the tension of the last few moments wasrelaxed. The men were not cannibals after all! He looked on as in adream while one of the men cut up the animal, and the other raked overthe fire with a spear. But with reflection his former anxiety cameback. Why had the savages brought their prisoner here? To leave him tobe drowned? But he was far above high-water mark. Were they reservinghim as the _bonne bouche_ of their feast?
One of the cooking-pots was placed over the fire, and the dismemberedpig was thrown into it. Beyond, the savages squatted in a half-circle,talking. Their leader raised an arm towards the moon, and then jerkedit in the direction of the prisoner. The gestures made things clear toTrentham. The moon had not gained an altitude which cannibalsuperstition required for the slaying of a man.
Trentham felt himself flush with hope. The savages had their facestowards him, their backs towards the prisoner. The raking of the firehad dulled the flames, and the cooking-pot partly obscured the glowingembers. There was still time.
He crept through the bushes until he had almost encircled the space uponwhich the savages had built their fire. Then, however, a gap of clearsand, twenty or thirty yards wide, separated him from the bush where theprisoner lay. Was it possible to cross that gap undiscovered? Nofriendly cloud obscured the moon; if one of the savages chanced to turn,he could not fail to see the moving figure.
Trentham looked around him. There was no cover on that stretch ofsand--no bush, no bank of seaweed, no wave-cast log. But the surfacewas a little uneven; the winds had blown up slight mounds and hollowedshallow troughs. White-clad as he was, the white was stained and tonedby water and exposure, he might perhaps crawl through the depressionswithout attracting attention. But it must be at a snail's pace, inch byinch, flat as a worm.
He lay on all-fours, waited a moment or two, then started on hislaborious progress. The mounds seemed higher, the troughs deeper, nowthat he was on their level, and the yielding sand helped to cover him,though at the same time it made movement difficult. Inch by inch hecrawled on, stopping at every yard to listen; he dared not raise hishead to look. The savages were still jabbering. Every now and then thedull glow of the fire was brightened by a flicker, at which he lay stillas a log, moving on again when the transient flame had died down.
Thus, after exertion more exhausting than if he had run a mile, he cameround to the rear of the bush to which the prisoner was bound. Thefoliage was thin and withered. Raising himself on his knees, he saw thathe could easily reach through the branches and cut the man's bonds.Would his sudden action alarm the prisoner--perhaps cause him to cryout? The man, as he could see now, had been placed face downwards, andwas tied to the central stem. He was very still. Perhaps rescue wasalready too late. But no! As Trentham gazed, he discerned a slightmovement of the head; it was as though the prisoner sought easierbreathing. The moonlight revealed a bald crown and heavily beardedcheeks; it was certainly not Grimshaw, the planter who had beenTrentham's fellow-passenger on the _Berenisa_.
Trentham was still undecided whether to risk a preliminary warning, whenthe movements of the savages showed that the critical moment had come.The cooking-pot had been removed from the embers and set before theleader, who plunged his hand into it, took out a small joint, and with ahollow, wailing cry flung it into the air in the direction of the moon,the other men chanting a weird chorus. Then they sprang up, gatheredabout the pot, and began to eat, with horrid sounds of gobbling.
'Now 's the time!' thought Trentham. Stretching forward the hand inwhich he held his open knife, he cut through the tendrils about theprisoner's arms and feet, and the longer strands which attached him tothe bush, whispering a single word of caution. For a few moments the manlay almost as still as before, but Trentham saw that he was stretchinghis limbs and raising his head to look towards the fire, from whichthere came now only the faintest gleam. Then slowly, almostimperceptibly, he crawled backward through the bush. Trentham rose tohis feet. When the man reached him, he took him by the hand and helpedhim to rise, then led him with cautious steps, under cover of the bush,down the beach towards the spot where the wreck in its sandy bed stoodup slightly from its surroundings.
'NOW 'S THE TIME!']
Edging round this, the two men crouched below the level of the savages'heads, and in silence, one step at a time, moved along parallel with thesea-line, until they arrived at the outlying edge of the bushes whichstretched up towards the foot of the chimney. Here they rose erect andquickened their pace. They were half-way to the cliffs when there was asound of crackling. Looking over his shoulder, Trentham saw one of thesavages in the act of throwing more fuel upon the fire, which suddenlybroke into a bright flame. Immediately afterwards the air rang with ablood-curdling yell, and the whole troop of savages rushed towards thebush where they had left their prisoner, and swept round it in thedirection of the sea.
Trentham hurried on. Panting heavily, the prisoner followed on hisheels. At the foot of the chimney Hoole was waiting.
'The men are up--all's clear,' he said, flashing a look at the stranger,whose face was pallid and ghastly in the moonlight. 'Guess he 's aboutdone,' he thought, and wondered whether his strength would hold out.'You go first, Trentham; I 'll cover the rear.'
Trentham entered the narrow fissure, set a foot in the lowest
notch,and, levering his back against the opposite wall, began to climb. Thestranger, who had spoken no word, followed with nervous haste, soquickly that at the second step his head touched Trentham's boot.
'Steady! Steady!' Hoole called up in a loud whisper. 'One slip, andyou 're done!'
The man paid no heed. He seemed to feel that he was on the verge ofexhaustion, and must attain that giddy height while there was yet time.Hoole watched him anxiously; it would hardly be safe to follow until theman had reached the top, yet the savages were returning. He heard theiryells of rage, and presently caught sight of them running up the beachin a scattered line. A few moments later a ferocious shriek proclaimedthat one of them at least had espied the men climbing.
'I must chance it,' thought Hoole. 'He 's a heavy chap--if he falls.'
With the speed acquired in mountaineering, he was soon on the heels ofthe rescued prisoner, whose quick pants alarmed him. About sixty feetfrom the base the man gave a long gasp and stopped. Hoole stuck hisfeet firmly, bent his head, and presented an arched back. At thatmoment he heard a sharp whizzing sound. The man grunted, and began toclimb again. Hoole followed. Something flew with a hiss past his ear,and clicked against the wall.
'Arrows!' he thought. 'I wonder what their range is.'
Up and up, foot by foot, arrows whizzing and clicking, the savagesyelling with ever-increasing fury, and audible through it all thelaboured breathing of the man above. Then the shooting suddenly ceased;one tremendous yell, then silence. Hoole guessed that the savages hadbegun to climb. But he was now a hundred feet above them; if thestranger's strength held out, they would never recover the start. Theirbare feet made no sound as they clambered up; the fissure was too narrowfor him to see them. Once more the stranger stopped for breath, and whenHoole stopped also, a shout of triumph, immensely loud in the narrowpassage, announced that the savages were gaining. The sound seemed togive their victim new strength; he clambered more quickly than before.Presently Hoole heard Trentham's voice quietly giving encouragement.Then, looking up, he saw the man hauled over the edge, and five secondslater his shoulders were grasped by Grinson's brawny hands, and he layamong thick grass.
UP AND UP, FOOT BY FOOT, ARROWS WHIZZING AND CLICKING.]
'Just saved your bacon, mister,' he said to the man beside him.
The stranger brushed the sweat from his pallid brow with his sleeve,uttered an inarticulate grunt, then fell backwards fainting.
'Batten down, Ephraim, me lad!' cried Grinson.
The seamen had turned to good account the hour they had spent alone onthe cliff top. With ready resource they had cut down pliant branchesfrom the surrounding trees, torn up saplings by the roots, and begun toconstruct a hurdle large enough to cover the opening. It wasunfinished, but as soon as Hoole had reached the top they threw itacross the gap, and hastily piled upon it the material still unused.The leading native, arriving half a minute later, found his egressblocked by this criss-cross of trunks and branches, which yielded onlyslightly to the butting of his head. Meanwhile, Hoole and Trentham weretearing down more branches, and casting them upon the heap, whichquickly grew to such a size that Goliath himself could not have raisedit.
From beneath it rose the muffled cries of the savages. Then all wassilent.