CHAPTER XXVII.
ALL HOPE VANISHES.
"We are approaching the outlet of the lake, Sir Arthur," said Guy. "Itis better that all should be awake in case we encounter bad water."
"Yes, yes; very true. You want me to hold the torch, I suppose. Gad!what a dream I had! I was dining with Lord Balsover. I'd give my titleand fortune to be back in London this minute."
"Hold your torch straight," said the colonel dryly, and then under theregular strokes of four paddles the canoe moved swiftly toward thedistant sound of running water.
Every instant it grew louder and more distinct, and soon their voiceswere almost drowned in the roar.
It was a period of terrible anxiety. That it was the outlet of the lakethey were approaching no one for an instant doubted. Their chief concernwas for a safe passage into the river beyond, for the angry splash ofthe water told plainly its turbulent and dangerous nature.
"Keep a little off from the shore," cried Guy. "It won't do to make toosharp a curve or we shall upset. We must strike the current fairly inthe center and keep the canoe straight as an arrow. Whatever happens,don't drop the torch," he added warningly.
Close as they now were to the outlet, no signs of any current were yetvisible. The colonel called attention to this strange fact, but Guyexplained it by remarking that the current probably passed directlythrough the center of the lake and that dead water continued to the veryedge.
"I can see a white gleam ahead," he cried suddenly; "now paddle off fromshore a little more and head the canoe as I tell you."
His orders were obeyed in silence. Straight out from the shore the canoeshot deftly. A couple of quick strokes forward and backward and its bowfaced the angry waters that raged and foamed thirty yards distant.
The radius of the torch cast a faint gleam on the very edge of theglistening spray. It seemed to beckon them onward.
"Now give way," cried Guy. Four paddles dipped and rose as one, theshining drops rolled from their blades like so many diamonds in thetorch-glare, and then Guy sprang to his feet with a loud cry.
The paddles wavered in mid-air. "Go ahead," he shouted fiercely. "Paddlewith all your strength."
Once more they dipped the water, the canoe moved slowly--with aneffort, and as the paddles a second time paused in air, the canoe shotswiftly--not forward to the embrace of the angry waters, but back--_backat dizzy speed into the dark and dismal recesses of the lake_.
Even then the awful, unspeakable horror of the situation never flashedupon them, Guy alone perhaps excepted.
"We've blundered again," cried the colonel in hollow tones. "We havereturned to the starting point. In some manner we have missed theoutlet, and now all must be done over again."
"Could the canoe have been turned completely about during our journey?"exclaimed Forbes.
"Impossible," said the colonel. "I can prove it instantly. When westarted away from the spot where the river enters on our trip around thelake, the shore was on our right. When we arrived here just now it wasstill on our right, whereas, had we unconsciously turned the canoe aboutand reversed our course, the shore would be on our left. We havecircumnavigated the lake and returned to our starting point, and in someway missed the outlet."
"No," cried Chutney in tones that chilled his hearers with horror. "Wedid not miss the outlet."
"What do you mean?" cried the colonel.
"I say we did not miss the outlet," continued Guy, "because there wasno outlet to miss. No exit from the lake exists. We are entombed foreverand ever. None of us will ever see the light of day again. We shall diehere in the bowels of the earth, and the serpents will mangle us as theymangled those poor unfortunates yonder on the island. Better to know thetruth now than later. It is useless to hope. I tell you we are doomedmen and----"
Here Guy's voice faltered, and sinking down into the canoe, he coveredhis face with his hands.
Sir Arthur uttered a heartrending cry and fell back in a faint. He layunnoticed. The torch dropped from the Greek's nerveless hands andexpired with a hiss. In darkness and silence they floated on and onuntil the roar of the inflowing water became fainter and fainter. Thenit died out entirely and all was intensely quiet.
The darkness was grateful to their stricken hearts. They wanted time torealize the awful misfortune that had fallen so suddenly and heavilyupon them.
It was impossible to grasp the truth in a moment, especially when thattruth meant utter hopelessness and a terrible death. So they drifted insilence under the great vault of the cavern, living-dead in a livingtomb.
Long afterward--it might have been an hour and it might have been a day,for all passage of time was lost--Chutney rose to a sitting posture.
His brain was dizzy and reeling. The aching misery lay heavy on hisheart, and yet one faint spark of hope lingered amid the black despair,the natural buoyancy of his nature that refused even to submit to thedecrees of the inevitable.
It was he who had first spoken the words of doom to his companions, andnow he told himself he would show them the way to safety. He fumbled inhis clothes for a match, and striking it deliberately, lit a freshtorch.
The pale, haggard faces that looked into each other as the bright lightshone over the water were ghastly and unnatural. Abject misery andhopelessness were stamped on each one.
The colonel and Forbes faced Guy calmly. Canaris looked up with ashudder and then dropped his head again. Sir Arthur lay among the rugsas though asleep.
At that instant the canoe struck some obstacle with a slight tremor andstopped.
The colonel with a slight gesture pointed to the right, and there beforethem lay the _Isle of Skeletons_. A strange fatality had drifted them asecond time to this awful spot.
Guy shuddered, but the colonel rose, and brushing past him stepped onshore.
Forbes followed him in silence, and then Canaris staggered blindly past.
After a brief hesitation Guy stepped out, and dragged the canoe halfway up the sand. Sir Arthur never moved. He was sleeping and no onedared disturb him. They sat down in a row on the sand.
"It's as good a place as any to die," said Forbes hoarsely. "The boneswill soon have company."
He paused, frightened at his own voice, and no one replied. For a whilethey sat in silence.
Guy stuck the torch in the sand and it blazed away with a merry light.Somehow or other the ray of hope that had animated him a little whilebefore had vanished, leaving only a dull despair, a reluctance to facethe horror of the situation.
"Is there no--no chance--for us?" he ventured to say timidly.
"Absolutely none," replied the colonel, in a firm voice. "You told us awhile ago, Chutney, that our doom was sealed. I have faced the situationas calmly and clearly as possible from every conceivable aspect, and Inow tell you on my own responsibility that we will never leave thiscavern. The fatal error was made when we took the right-hand channel ofthe two, or rather when the current led us to the right. That was notour blunder, of course. We were in the hands of destiny. We are now, asyou know, on the bosom of a vast lake. Water of an unknown depth isbeneath us. Overhead is a vaulted dome of great height, probably thehollowed interior of a mountain; on all sides are massive andperpendicular walls of rock, impregnable and insurmountable.
"The lake is undoubtedly ten miles or more in circumference, and, as youknow well, there is no surface outlet. There is an entrance, but we canno more force our way back through that entrance than we could swim upthrough the Falls of Niagara or ride the Nile Cataracts in a Rob Roycanoe. As long as our provisions last we shall live. When we no longerhave anything to eat we shall die, and the next explorer who enters thislake will find our bones mingled with those lying behind us."
"And what will _he_ do?" asked Guy.
"Perish like those before him," said the colonel. "This death trapcaught many a victim and will catch many more. The light of day willnever pierce this gloom."
The colonel spoke as though he were dem
onstrating a problem in Euclid orlaying down plans for a campaign.
"I don't call myself a philosopher," he went on, "nor am I a fatalist,but I think that most men can face the inevitable with a certaincalmness that is only born of absolute despair. Did you ever see a manhanged? I did once. He walked to the gallows as coolly and deliberatelyas though he were going to breakfast. A week before he had beendefiant, blustering, terror-stricken. When he realized that he hadabsolutely no loophole of escape, he faced the inevitable with steadynerves. When you realize your position fully, you will be like that man.You will accept your fate."