CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FLIGHT.
I led the girls hurriedly to the horses. When they were mounted on theponies, I gave the bridle-reins of the bay horse--whose size andstrength were necessary for my extra weight--to Edith Metford, and askedher to wait for me until I announced Brande's probable failure to thepeople, and advised a _sauve qui peut_.
Hard upon my warning there followed a strange metamorphosis in thecrowd, who, after the passing weakness at the lecture, had fallen backinto stoical indifference, or it may have been despair. The possibilityof escape galvanized them into the desire for life. Cries of distress,and prayers for help, filled the air. Men and women rushed about likefrightened sheep without concert or any sensible effort to escape,wasting in futile scrambles the short time remaining to them. Foranother half hour had now passed, and in sixty minutes the earthquakewould take place.
"Follow us!" I shouted, as with my companions I rode slowly through thecamp. "Keep the track to the sea. I shall have the steamer's boats readyfor all who may reach the shore alive."
"The horses! Seize the horses!" rose in a loud shout, and the mob flungthemselves upon us, as though three animals could carry all.
When I saw the rush, I called out: "Sit firm, Natalie; I am going tostrike your horse." Saying which I struck the pony a sharp blow with myriding-whip crossways on the flank. It bounded like a deer, and thendashed forward down the rough pathway.
"Now you, Edith!" I struck her pony in the same way; but it only rearedand nearly threw her. It could not get away. Already hands were uponboth bridle-reins. There was no help for it. I pulled out my revolverand fired once, twice, and thrice--for I missed the second shot--andthen the maddened animal sprang forward, released from the hands thatheld it.
It was now time to look to myself. I was in the midst of a dozen maniacsmad with fear. I kicked in my spurs desperately, and the bay lashed outhis hind feet. One hoof struck young Halley on the forehead. He fellback dead, his skull in fragments. But the others refused to break thecircle. Then I emptied my weapon on them, and my horse plunged throughthe opening, followed by despairing execrations. The moment I was clear,I returned my revolver to its case, and settled myself in the saddle,for, borne out of the proper path as I had been, there was a stiff bankto leap before I could regain the track to the shore. Owing to thedarkness the horse refused to leap, and I nearly fell over his head.With a little scrambling I managed to get back into my seat, and thentrotted along the bank for a hundred yards. At this point the bankdisappeared, and there was nothing between me now and the open track tothe sea.
Once upon the path, I put the bay to a gallop, and very soon overtook aman and a woman hurrying on. They were running hand in hand, the man alittle in front dragging his companion on by force. It was plain to methat the woman could not hold out much longer. The man, Claude Lureau,hailed me as I passed.
"Help us, Marcel. Don't ride away from us."
"I cannot save both," I answered, pulling up.
"Then save Mademoiselle Veret. I'll take my chance."
This blunt speech moved me, the more especially as the man was French. Icould not allow him to point the way of duty to me--an Englishman.
"Assist her up, then. Now, Mademoiselle, put your arms round me and holdhard for your life. Lureau, you may hold my stirrup if you agree toloose it when you tire."
"I will do so," he promised.
Hampered thus, I but slowly gained on Natalie and Edith, whose ponieshad galloped a mile before they could be stopped.
"Forward, forward!" I shouted when within hail. "Don't wait for me. Rideon at top speed. Lash your ponies with the bridle-reins."
We were all moving on now at an easy canter, for I could not go fast solong as Lureau held my stirrup, and the girls in front did not seemanxious to leave me far behind. Besides, the tangled underwood andoverhanging creepers rendered hard riding both difficult and dangerous.The ponies were hard held, but notwithstanding this my horse fell backgradually in the race, and the hammering of the hoofs in front grewfainter. The breath of the runner at my stirrup came in great sobs. Hewas suffocating, but he struggled on a little longer. Then he threw uphis hand and gasped:
"I am done. Go on, Marcel. You deserve to escape. Don't desert thegirl."
"May God desert me if I do," I answered. "And do you keep on as long asyou can. You may reach the shore after all."
"Go on--save her!" he gasped, and then from sheer exhaustion fellforward on his face.
"Sit still, Mademoiselle," I cried, pulling the French girl's arms roundme in time to prevent her from throwing herself purposely from thehorse. Then I drove in my spurs hard, and, being now released fromLureau's grasp, I overtook the ponies.
For five minutes we all rode on abreast. And then the darkness began tobreak, and a strange dawn glimmered over the tree-tops, although thehour of midnight was still to come. A wild, red light, like that of afiery sunset in a hazy summer evening, spread over the night sky. Thequivering stars grew pale. Constellation after constellation, they wereblotted out until the whole arc of heaven was a dull red glare. Thehorses were dismayed by this strange phenomenon, and dashed the frothfrom their foaming muzzles as they galloped now without stress of spurat their best speed. Birds that could not sing found voice, andchattered and shrieked as they dashed from tree to tree in aimlessflight. Enormous bats hurtled in the air, blinded by the unusual light.From the dense undergrowth strange denizens of the woods, disturbed intheir nightly prowl, leaped forth and scurried squealing between thegalloping hoofs, reckless of anything save their own fear. Everythingthat was alive upon the island was in motion, and fear was the motor ofthem all.
So far, we saw no natives. Their absence did not surprise me, for I hadno time for thought. It was explained later.
Edith Metford's pony soon became unmanageable in its fright. I unbuckledone spur and gave it to her, directing her to hold it in her hand, forof course she could not strap it to her boot, and drive it into theanimal when he swerved. She took the spur, and as her pony, in one ofhis side leaps, nearly bounded off the path, she struck him hard on theribs. He bolted and flew on far ahead of us.
The light grew stronger.
But that the rays were red, it would now have been as bright as day. Wewere chasing our shadows, so the light must be directly behind us.Mademoiselle Veret first noticed this, and drew my attention to it. Ilooked back, and my heart sank at the sight. In the terror it inspired,I regretted having burthened myself with the girl I had sworn to save.
The island was on fire!
"It is the end of the world," Mademoiselle Veret said with a shudder.She clung closer to me. I could feel her warm breath upon my cheek. Theunmanly regret, which for a moment had touched me, passed.
The ponies now seemed to find out that their safety lay in gallopingstraight on, rather than in scared leaps from side to side. Theystretched themselves like race horses, and gave my bay, with his doubleburthen, a strong lead. The pace became terrible considering the natureof the ground we covered.
At last the harbour came in view. But my horse, I knew, could not lastanother mile, and the shore was still distant two or three. I spurredhim hard and drew nearly level with the ponies, so that my voice couldbe heard by both their riders.
"Ride on," I shouted, "and hail the steamer, so that there may be nodelay when I come up. This horse is blown, and will not stand the pace.I am going to ease him. You will go on board at once, and send the boatback for us." Then I eased the bay, but in spite of this I immediatelyovertook Edith Metford, who had pulled up.
My reproaches she cut short by saying, "If that horse does the distanceat all it will be by getting a lead all the way. And I am going to giveit to him." So we started together.
Natalie was waiting for us a little further on. I spoke to her, but shedid not answer. From the moment that Brande had commanded her toaccompany us, her manner had remained absolutely passive. What Iordered, she obeyed. That was all. Instead of being alarmed by thehorrors of the ride, she did
not seem to be even interested. I had notleisure, however, to reflect on this. For the first time in the wholerace she spoke to us.
"Would it not be better if Edith rode on?" she said. "I can take herplace. It seems useless to sacrifice her. It does not matter to me. Icannot now be afraid."
"I am afraid; but I remain," Edith said resolutely.
The ground under us began to heave. Whole acres of it swayed disjointed.We were galloping on oscillating fragments, which trembled beneath uslike floating logs under boys at play. To jump these cracks--sometimesan upward bank, sometimes a deep drop, in addition to the width of theseam, had to be taken--pumped out the failing horses, and the hope thatwas left to us disappeared utterly.
The glare of the red light behind waxed fiercer still, and a lowrumbling as of distant thunder began to mutter round us. The air becamedifficult to breathe. It was no longer air, but a mephitic stench thatchoked us with disgusting fumes. Then a great shock shook the land, andright in front of us a seam opened that must have been fully fifteenfeet in width. Natalie was the first to see it. She observed it too lateto stop.
In the same mechanical way as she had acted before, she settled herselfin the saddle, struck the pony with her hand, and raced him at thechasm. He cleared it with little to spare. Edith's took it next withless. Then my turn came. Before I could shake up my tired horse,Mademoiselle Veret said quickly:
"Monsieur has done enough. He will now permit me to alight. This timethe horse cannot jump over with both."
"He shall jump over with both, Mademoiselle, or he shall jump in," Ianswered. "Don't look down when we are crossing."
The horse just got over, but he came to his knees, and we fell forwardover his shoulder. The girl's head struck full on a slab of rock, and afaint moan was all that told me she was alive as I arose half stunned tomy feet. My first thought was for the horse, for on him all depended. Hewas uninjured, apparently, but hardly able to stand from the shock andthe stress of fatigue.
Edith Metford had dismounted and caught him; she was holding the bridlein her left hand, and winced as if in pain when I accidentally brushedagainst her right shoulder. I tied the horse to a young palm, andbegged the girl to ride on. She obeyed me reluctantly. Natalie had toassist her to remount, so she must have been injured. When I saw hersafely in her saddle, I ran back to Mademoiselle Veret.
The chasm was fast widening. From either side great fragments werebreaking off and falling in with a roar of loose rocks crashingtogether, till far down the sound was dulled into a hollow boom. Thisended in low guttural, which growled up from an abysmal depth.Mademoiselle Veret, or her dead body, lay now on the very edge of theseam, and I had to harden my heart before I could bring myself toventure close to it. But I had given my word, and there were noconditions in the promise when I made it.
I was spared the ordeal. Just as I stepped forward, the slab of rock onwhich the girl lay broke off in front of me, and, tipping up, overturneditself into the chasm. Far below I could see the shimmer of the girl'sdress as her body went plunging down into that awful pit. Andremembering her generous courage and offer of self-sacrifice, I felttears rise in my eyes. But there was no time for tears.
I leaped on the bay, and got him into something approaching a gallop,shouting at the others to keep on, for they were now returning. When Icame up with them, Edith Metford said with a shiver:
"The girl?"
"Is at the bottom of the pit. Ride on."
We gained the shore at last; and our presence there produced theexplanation of the absence of the natives on the pathway to the sea.They were there before us. Lying prostrate on the beach in hundreds,they raised their bodies partly from the sands, like a resurrection ofthe already dead, and there then rang out upon the night air a soundsuch as my ears had never before heard in my life, such as, I pray God,they may never listen to again. I do not know what that dreadfuldeath-wail meant in words, only that it touched the lowest depths ofhuman horror. All along the beach that fearful chorus of the damnedwailed forth, and echoed back from rock and cliff. The cry for mercycould not be mistaken--the supplication blended with despair. They werepraying to us--their evil spirits, for this wrong had been wrought themby our advent, if not by ourselves.
I cannot dwell upon the scene. I could not describe it. I would not if Icould.
The steamer was still in her berth; her head was pointed seawards. Loudorders rang over the water. The roar of the chain running out throughthe hawse-hole and the heavy splash could not be mistaken. Anderson hadslipped his cable. Then the chime of the telegraph on the bridge wasfollowed almost instantly by the first smashing stroke of the propeller.
The _Esmeralda_ was under weigh!