"Jack at Sea" (continued 7)

Jack said nothing, but began to crawl away as fast as his tingling, helpless limbs would allow, feeling that so long as they got away from their captors it did not so much matter which direction they took. He turned his head from time to time to see if Ned was all right, and found that he was lamely struggling on after him, but always gave him a cheery look.

Jack followed the rugged little ditch-like place, which had evidently been carved out by one of the rivulets which ran down from the mountain, but after following it some time and turning to look back at Ned, he suddenly dropped flat on his face and began to crawl out of it, and toward the shelter of the forest, which came close up.

“What’s the matter?” said Ned.

“Don’t lift your head; creep as flat as you can, and let’s get among the bushes.”

“That’s right enough; but why? It won’t be such good going.”

“We’ve been crawling higher and higher,” said Jack, “and when I turned to see how you were getting on, I looked down over your shoulder, on to the smoke of the fire, and the blacks were lying about it, and just at that moment one of them jumped up, and then all the rest followed, and they must have missed us!”

“Shall we get up and run then?”

“No, no, they may not come this way. Hark! what’s that?”

“Wind. Why, I didn’t see it coming, only thought it was evening. We’re in for a storm.”

“Never mind, if it will only keep them from following us, Ned.”

They struggled on, finding their limbs less helpless. Minute by minute, and just before plunging into the darkness beneath the trees, Jack turned to raise his head slightly, and to his great delight saw ten or twelve of the blacks far below the smoke of their camp, and evidently descending the mountain slope, but the next instant his hopes were crushed, for there in full pursuit, coming along the stony hollow up which they had crawled, was another party of the enemy.

“In with you, Ned,” he whispered, as he dropped down again to creep into the dense growth which swallowed him like a verdant sea, while before they had penetrated many yards the gloom beneath the spreading branches was lit up by a flash of lightning. The next minute the flashes came so quickly that the forest seemed turned into one vast temple, whose black pillars supported a ceiling of flame, and as the deafening detonations shook the earth around them, they were glad to crouch as quickly as they could in a recess formed at the foot of a gigantic tree which sent out flat buttresses on every side, more buttresses passing down into roots.

They were none too soon, for the storm was, brief as the time had been, now in full force; the rain dashed and swept in amongst the groaning trees, and the noise and confusion were deafening, and made the more awe-inspiring by the lashing of the branches as they were driven here and there by the wind.

“What’s that, sir?” cried Ned, with his lips to his companion’s ear, for a tremendous crash had succeeded a roar of thunder.

“Tree gone down.”

“Oh!” said Ned, pressing Jack close up into the recess. “Well, so long as it ain’t this one I suppose we mustn’t grumble. But I’d rather have undressed myself before I took my bath, sir, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, how can you talk like that!” shouted Jack.

“’Cause I feel so jolly and satisfied,” said Ned, with his lips again to Jack’s ear. “A bit ago it was all over with us, going to be took and tied up again, sir. P’r’aps to be taken away and fatted and eaten. Now there’s nothing the matter, only it’s a bit dark. Don’t seem, sir, as if I’m doing any good in trying to be your umbrella. You are a little moist, I suppose, sir?”

“Moist, Ned! I’m soaking; I can feel the water running down into my boots.”

“Oh, never mind, sir. We’ll have a good wring out as soon as the storm’s over. But my word, I never saw lightning like this before, and never felt it rain so hard.”

“Nor thunder so loud,” cried Jack. “It is terrible. Hush! hark at that!”

“Water, sir, running down this way.”

“Shan’t be washed away from here, shall we, Ned?”

“No, sir, I think not. Seems to me that it’s coming down that bit of a ditch we crawled up.”

It was: the dry, stony bed having been filled in a few minutes six feet deep by a raging torrent, which was constantly being augmented by scores of furious rills, the upper portions of the mountain having been struck by what resembled a swirling water-spout.

“I say, Mr Jack, I hope the yacht won’t get washed away. Which side of that stony ditch were the niggers when you saw ’em last?”

“The other side.”

“Then they won’t come this. Now if they’d only take to thinking that we’d been washed down the side and out to sea, what a blessing it would be for us! They wouldn’t come and hunt for us any more.”

“Don’t—pray don’t talk,” cried Jack. Then to himself,—“Oh, if the storm would only keep on.”

But, as has been shown, it did not. Its violence on their side of the mountain was soon exhausted, and it swept on and out to sea, leaving the fugitives standing where hundreds of rills came amongst the foot of the trees on their way toward the stream overflowing the stony channel, while the leaves and boughs poured down a constant shower of heavy drops.

By degrees the force of the water abated, the slope being too steep for it to continue long within the regular channels which scored the mountain side; and leaving their temporary asylum, the fugitives pressed on in the hope of reaching the ravine up which they had been making their way that morning when they hung back and were left behind.

But it was in a bewildered way that they pushed on, till hours must have passed, feeling that there was nothing for them but to try and find a refuge in some rude shelter such as they had several times encountered by the side of one of the lava-streams, where in cooling the volcanic matter had split up and broken, and formed wildly curious, cavernous places, any one of which would have been welcome.

Night was coming on fast; they dare not attempt to descend, and it began to be plain that they would have to be content with a resting-place on some stony patch from which the water had drained, when, as they staggered along, just within the sheltering gloom of the huge forest trees, they stumbled upon one of the ancient lava-streams, which stopped their progress like some mountainous wall, and a very few minutes’ search was sufficient to find the shelter they required, a dark, cavernous place whose flooring was of volcanic sand.

“It’s dry as a bone, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, after stooping down, “and as warm as warm. Well, sir, if this ain’t sunshine after storm I should like to know what is!”

Jack was too much exhausted to reply, and directly after he began to follow his companion’s example by stripping off and wringing his clothes.

“Black sunshine this, Ned,” he said.

“Well, sir, it is certainly; but you can’t say it ain’t warm. You put your hand down on the sand.”

“Yes; it’s quite warm, Ned.”

“Why, is this only the back-door into the burning mountain, sir? Because if so, will it be safe?”

“Ned, I’m too tired to talk. Pray be quiet and let me think. We must be safer than out upon the mountain side. Let’s lie down and rest.”

Chapter Thirty One.

A bi-startler.

“What’s that?” cried Jack, starting up into a sitting position, to face Ned, who rubbed his eyes and stared.

“I dunno, sir; sounded to me like a horrid shriek.”

“Yes; that was what woke me, Ned,” said Jack in an awestricken whisper. “It sounded like some one being killed.”

“There it is again!” cried Ned, as a harsh, shrill sound arose from close at hand, to be followed by a chorus of discordant cries, which seemed to run in by them to be echoed and made more hollow and strange.

“Talk about sharpening saws,” said Ned, as he hurriedly began to dress, “why that’s lovely to it. Cockatoos, that’s what it is. Good job it’s daylight, or I should have been thinking that we’d come to sleep in an awful place.”

“I couldn’t make out where we were, Ned, for some time. Did you sleep well?”

“I dunno, sir. Don’t know nothing about it, only that I lay down and snuggled the sand over me a bit. Next thing I heard was those birds. How did you get on, sir?”

“Slept! oh, so soundly!”

“And feel all the better for it, sir?”

“Yes—no, my head aches and feels sore from the blow.”

“Ah, I should like to have a turn at those chaps, Mr Jack, sir; I owe ’em one, and you owe ’em one too. Perhaps we shall get a chance to pay ’em some day.”

“I hope not,” said Jack, who was hurrying on his clothes.

“You hope not, sir?”

“Yes, of course. I hope we may never see or hear anything of them again. And perhaps they’re waiting on the mountain side to seize us as soon as we go out of this cave.”

“Then we mustn’t go out till they’re gone, sir. Clothes pretty dry, sir?”

“Yes, Ned, they seem quite dry; but I want to bathe.”

“What, again, sir? I got washed enough last night to last me for a bit. Fine place this would be to bring a cargo of umbrellas, if there was any one to buy ’em. I never saw it rain like that.”

“Oh, Ned—Ned, do try and talk sensibly,” cried Jack. “How can you make jokes when we are in such danger?”

“I dunno about being in danger now, sir. We’re pretty safe at present. I say, sir, this must be the way down into the kitchen,” continued Ned, as he went on dressing, and trying to peer into the darkness of the cavernous place. “My word, can’t you smell the black beadles?”

“I do smell something,” replied Jack thoughtfully. “It must be volcanic.”

“Beadly, sir. There, it’s quite strong.” At that moment from farther in a fluttering and squealing sound was heard, and Ned started back. “There, sir, I said so. Mice and rats too.”

“Nonsense; it is the great fruit bats.”

“What, those we see of a night, sir, bigger than pigeons?”

“Yes; this is one of their roosting-places.”

“And do they smell like beadles, sir?”

“Yes; very much like. But now, Ned, what shall we do next?”

“Well, sir, if I did what I liked I should choose a good breakfast; but as I can’t, what do you say to going a bit farther in here to see what it’s like?”

“Not now. I want to make out whereabouts we are, and whether the blacks are on the look-out for us still; and then I want to communicate with my father; he must be horribly anxious about us, Ned.”

“Yes; I expect he thinks we’ve gone down some hole, sir, and it strikes me he’ll be saying something to the doctor for going and leaving us behind.”

“I’m afraid that it was our fault, Ned, for not keeping up.”

“Well, sir, we can’t help it now. Next best thing is to get back to the yacht, so as soon as you’re ready we’ll make a start; but I’m afraid it will be a long walk before breakfast.”

“Terribly long, I’m afraid.”

“But there’s always a good side to everything, sir, even if it’s a looking-glass,” continued Ned philosophically. “We’re better off than you might think.”

“I can’t see it, Ned.”

“Why, we’ve got no guns, nor wallets, nor cartridges to carry, sir. Now then, will you lead?”

“Yes; be cautious. We don’t know but what some of the blacks may be near.”

“That’s true, sir. First thing I s’pose is to get what old Lenny calls our bearings.”

“Yes; we must find out where we face,” said Jack, and he advanced cautiously to the cavern’s entrance, and began to peer round warily for danger.

But there was no sign of any. They were very high up, the morning was clear, the sun was gilding the vapours which rose from the rifts and valleys, and the sea glittered gloriously. Far below they obtained glimpses of the reef with its fringe of foam; but not a murmur of the beating waves reached them, while overhead, partially hidden in clouds, the crater of the volcano showed some of its craggy slopes, and the forest beneath seemed to be less dense.

“I can’t make out where we are, Ned,” said Jack at last. “Yes, I can; we have worked round more to the south, and must have done nothing but get farther and farther away from the yacht.”

“Think so, sir? Let’s see; we anchored east side first, then we went round and anchored west, and you say we’ve been travelling south. Well, I dare say you’re right, and that means we must keep to the west again. Why, those black fellows must have taken us out of that little valley and put us in another one. I must say it’s rather puzzling, sir. But you lead, and I’ll follow, for it’s of no use for me to pretend to be able to steer.”

Jack made no reply, but stood looking downward, seeing nothing of the glorious prospect below, his mind being taken up with thoughts of trying to hit the head of the ravine up which they had travelled, for he knew the difficulties attendant upon going down another, to be led right to the edge of the lagoon, with the puzzle before him of not knowing whether to travel to right or left.

“There’s that flock of shriekers coming along below there, Mr Jack, sir,” said the man, breaking in upon the lad’s reverie. “No, it ain’t: it’s pigs. I can see ’em, sir; there they go. My word, I wish I had a gun, and they came within reach; I’d have a shot at one of ’em, and before long it would be roast pork for breakfast. See ’em, sir? There they go.”

They were plain enough to see at times, a drove of twenty or so, of all sizes, down to quite small porkers, as they raced along over the open patches, and then disappeared in amongst the trees, to re-appear once more as they made for the denser portions of the forest.

“Why, there’s one left behind, Ned,” said Jack suddenly. “It looks as if it was lame.”

“Why, it has broken down. Look, sir, how it keeps limping. I say, we must have him. We can’t let a chance like that go when we’re starving. Keep your eye on the spot, sir, while I try and hit off some mark to know him by.”

Jack’s response, as Ned moved to get into a better position for observation, was to leap upon the man and drag him back into the entrance of the cavern.

“What did you do that for, sir?” he cried angrily.

“Couldn’t you see what was coming?”

“No, sir,” cried Ned surlily; “could you?”

“Go down on hands and knees to that block of stone lying there, and peep over cautiously.”

Ned obeyed in an ill-used fashion, and dropped down again to crawl back into the cavern.

“Oh, I say, Mr Jack, seven or eight of them.”

“I only saw two.”

“Quite what I said, sir. They must have been hunting the drove, and speared the one that hung behind. Now, then, they’ll be stopping to cook and have another feast. Suppose they come in here to make this their kitchen? Hadn’t we better slip out at once and make a run for it?”

“Run for it?” cried Jack. “How can we up here, where it is all slow climb? No, we must keep in hiding.”

“But suppose they choose this place and come here?”

“Not likely, Ned. If they do we must go farther into its depths.”

“Ugh!” cried the man with a shudder. “I want to get out of the hole. It’s hot and steamy, and unnatural. I believe some of the melted stuff came out this way.”

“What, the molten lava? Of course,” said Jack coolly. “I don’t understand much about it, but it’s plain enough that this was all liquid molten matter once, and that it ran out along here.”

“What, this rock, Mr Jack? Do you mean melted like lead and running down?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I say, Mr Jack, is this a time, with black Indians close at hand, to go stuffing a fellow with cranky tales?”

“I am only telling you the simple truth, Ned.”

“But hard stone can’t melt.”

“Yes, it can, if the heat is great enough. This was all running like molten metal once, this part under our feet.”

“And what about this where we are, sir?”

“It seems to me, Ned, as if it were the cindery froth on the top, that was full of gas and steam, so that when it cooled it left all these holes and cracks and crevices. Look at that piece lying there; only that it’s of a beautiful silvery grey, it looks just like one of the pieces of cinder which pop out of the fire.”

“Want a pretty good-sized fire for a piece like that to pop out of, sir,” said the man scornfully.

“Well, it must have been a good-sized fire when this great mountain was in eruption, and the red-hot lava boiling over the sides of the crater and running down.”

“But do you really think it ever did, sir?”

“I have no doubt about it whatever. Look at that piece lying half buried in the black sand. What is that?”

“Looks like black glass, sir,” said Ned, kicking a piece of obsidian.

“Well, it is volcanic glass. How could that have been made without heat?”

“I dunno, sir. It caps me.”

“You said the place was hot.”

“No need to say it, sir. I’m as hot as hot. Brings me out in a prespiration.”

“St! don’t talk so loudly, Ned. The place echoes so.”

At that moment the man laid his hand upon Jack’s arm and pointed downward.

The lad followed the direction of the pointing hand, to see that a group of the blacks were coming in their direction, and for the moment Jack felt that they must be seen, until he saw that they were standing well in the shadow.

His first impulse was to catch Ned’s arm, stoop down and hurry away to reach the shelter of the trees, but Ned stopped him.

“No good, sir. We should be seen. Let’s go right in here.”

“What, to be trapped?”

“They mightn’t come in here, sir, and if they did, perhaps they couldn’t find us. Anyhow they’re sure to see us and come after us if we go outside.”

The wisdom of the words was evident enough, and with a sigh Jack drew back with his companion, startling some birds from a shelf where they seemed to be nesting within reach of his hand, and sending them rushing out uttering their alarm notes.

“Are we in far enough, Mr Jack?” said Ned.

“No: any one could see us here. Come along.”

They went on inward for another twenty yards, the mouth of the entrance still being in full view. It was awkward travelling, the black sand having given place to loose pieces of scoria and obsidian, some pieces of which crackled under their boots, and took revenge by entering into the soles. As they went in the place widened out, but remained much about the same height overhead, the highest portions of the roof being nearly within touch of Ned’s hand.

Here the latter stopped again.

“Don’t let’s go any farther, sir,” he said nervously. “Don’t you feel a bit frightened?”

“Of course I do. It would be horrible if they caught us again. They would kill us.”

“Yes, sir; most likely,” said Ned. “Be awkward, wouldn’t it? But don’t you feel scared-like about this great black hole?”

“Scared? No; I like it, Ned.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, sir. You can’t. Don’t say that. There! There it is again. Just over your head.”

He shrank back with his fist doubled as if prepared to strike.

“What is it?” cried Jack, startled now.

“I dunno, sir. Let’s go back,” cried the man in an agitated whisper. “It’s very horrid though. There’s lots of ’em shuffling and scrambling about in the cracks and holes, staring at you with their wicked-looking eyes, and more ’n once I’ve seen ’em flapping their wings. I don’t like it. Let’s go back.”

“Go back to be taken? Impossible. Look, they are only bats.”

“Bats with wings a yard across, sir? Oh, come, I know better than that.”

“What are they then?” said Jack angrily.

“Oh, I dunno, sir. Something horrid as lives in this dreadful place. They make me feel creepy all down my back. I’d rather have a set-to with one of the ugliest blacks yonder.”

“I tell you they are bats—the great fruit bats. Why, Captain Bradleigh pointed them out to me the other night, flying overhead in the darkness just like big crows.”

“Are you sure, sir? There, look at that thing staring down at you and making noises. Mind, pray, Mr Jack, sir, or he’ll have you. Perhaps their bite’s poison.”

“They will not bite if we leave them alone. They are flying foxes.”

“Flying wolves, I think, sir. I say, hadn’t we better go back?”

“No,” said Jack firmly. “Why, Ned, are you going to turn coward?”

“Hope not, sir; and that’s what worries me—me being a man and feeling as I do, while you’re only a boy and don’t seem to mind a bit. I wouldn’t care so much if you were frightened too.”

“Well, I am frightened, Ned—horribly frightened, but not of the flying foxes.”

“But you don’t seem to mind what might be farther in, sir,” said Ned, staring wildly into the darkness ahead.

“Oh yes, I do,” replied Jack. “I’m afraid we might slip down into some horrible black pit; but we need not if we’re careful.”

“Ah, you don’t seem to understand me, sir, and I don’t quite understand myself. I suppose it’s from only being half myself again, for one of my arms is no good at all. That’s what makes me feel a bit cowardly like.”

“Yes, of course, it makes you nervous,” said Jack quietly.

“There! Feel that, sir?” whispered Ned in a horror-stricken voice.

“That hot puff of air? Yes, it’s curious. I suppose it would grow warmer the farther we went in.”

“And you taking it as cool as can be, sir,” said Ned in a voice full of reproach.

“Well, why not? We’ve only got to be careful, just as we should have to be if we were climbing up to the crater. There would be hot steamy puffs of air there, and— Quick, don’t speak. Take hold of my hand, and let’s go softly right in.”

Ned did not hesitate, but obeyed at once, and they walked softly on into the darkness ahead, for from apparently close behind them—though the speakers had not yet reached the mouth of the low cavern—there came the confused angry gabble of many voices, and on looking back Ned saw the mouth of the place darkened, and it seemed as if the enemy were about to come in; but some were apparently hesitating, and protesting against its being done.

Ned’s dread of the unseen departed at sight of the seen, and he walked firmly onward, gripping Jack’s hand tightly.

“Come on in, sir,” he whispered; “they’re after us. Let’s get into a dark corner, and let ’em have it with stones—some of these sharp bits.”

Everything seemed to point to the fact that they must either get right into the depths of the cavern and trust to finding a place of concealment, or stand on their defence as Ned suggested, and meet their enemies with stones.

They must have retreated quite fifty yards over the sharp cracking fragments, when the light which shone in upon them from the mouth suddenly ceased, and looking round for the cause, they found that the passage had made a sudden turn, so that they had to go back three or four yards before they could catch sight of the enemy.

That which they saw was enough to startle them, showing as it did the imminence of their danger, and that the blacks were probably coming in search of them, under the belief that they were in hiding. For one, evidently the leader, was in advance, with bow and arrow in hand ready to shoot, and his companions held their spears prepared for action as they came on in a stooping attitude.

“Shall we shoot at ’em?” whispered Ned, feeling now in the presence of danger.

“No. Let’s get a little heap of stones and be ready to throw when they are well in reach.”

“Oh, if I could only use my other arm!” muttered Ned. “Come on then, sir. They can’t see us now. Perhaps there’s a narrower place farther in, and the darker it is the better for us and the worse for them.”

The change in the poor fellow was wonderful. He did not seem like the same. It struck Jack for the moment, but he had something else to think about, and he followed his companion quickly, at the risk of slipping into some precipitous place.

It was too dark to see much when they stopped again, but they could feel plenty of rough pieces of stone beneath their feet, and the place was narrow enough to make the chances of a successful defence greater.

“It’s an ugly job, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, “and I feel precious shaky about my throwing, though there was a time when I’d hurl a cricket-ball with any man I knew. If they think they’re coming nobbling us about with their war-clubs and getting nothing back, they’re precious well mistaken, so scuffle up all you can, and— Oh! Murder!”

Ned dropped down on his face, and Jack crawled against the wall, for at the first attempt made to pull a stone from a heap there was a sharp rustling sound, a little avalanche of fragments was set in motion, and they fell with a tremendous splash into some subterranean natural reservoir; a loud reverberation followed, and instantaneously, as the echoes went bellowing out through the passage by which the fugitives had entered, there was a strange rushing fluttering, and the sound as of a roaring mighty wind unchained from some vast chasm where it had lain at rest.

Jack felt the wind touching him as it passed. Then in a flash he knew that it was caused by the beating of thousands of wings, and then, with his heart beating heavily, he was listening to an outburst of shrieks and yells, and lastly nothing was to be heard but Ned groaning and muttering:

“Oh dear! oh dear! it ’d frighten any man, let alone a poor chap who’s been wounded mortal bad!”

A few minutes of time only were occupied by the whole of what took place, from the first rattle of the stones to Ned’s piteous ejaculations, and Jack crouched there listening till the poor fellow exclaimed—

“Mr Jack, sir, where are you? Don’t say you’re dead.”

“No, Ned, I won’t.”

“Oh, my dear lad, where are you then?” gasped the poor fellow wildly.

“Here, quite safe; but don’t move, there must be a terrible gulf close beside you.”

“Yes, sir, and I thought it had swallowed you. I say, is it all over with us?”

“I hope not,” said Jack quietly. “But listen, Ned; can you hear the blacks?”

“Hear ’em! No, sir. My ears seem full of the shrieks and cries of those things as they tore out of the place, and you would stick out that they were bats. Phew, can’t you smell ’em?”

“Yes, plainly enough; but it was not the bats made those noises, it must have been the blacks.”

“No, no, sir, it was those horrid things. I felt ’em hitting me with their wings as they swooped by.”

“Nonsense, nonsense. They were scared by the noise of the stones falling, and the echoes, and it seems to me that they scared the blacks as well as us, and they have run out again.”

“What!” cried Ned. “You don’t mean that, Mr Jack?”

“But I do. Ned, they’ve gone.”

“Well! and I was only just before thinking that I was getting over being so shaky and nervous, and not so queer about myself, and then for me to break down like that. Of all the cowardly cranks I ever did come across! Oh, I say, Mr Jack, sir, ain’t you ashamed of me?”

“I’m quite as ashamed of myself, Ned. I don’t know who could help being frightened; my heart’s beating tremendously still. But they’ve gone, Ned, I feel sure.”

“Well, I believe they have, sir, ’pon my word. But I say, Mr Jack, sir, don’t be offended at what I say.”

“Of course not. Say it quick.”

“It’s on’y this, sir; are you the same young gent as sailed with us from Dartmouth a short time ago? because you cap me.”

“Here, give me your hand,” cried Jack. “No; stop. Don’t move. You might slip. Can’t we get a light?”

“Light, sir? Yes; of course. I’ve got a little box of wax matches in my pocket.”

There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and then Ned uttered a groan.

“Lost them?”

“No, sir; here they are, but I forgot about the rain last night. They must be all soaked and spoiled.”

“Try one.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll try. But I say, Mr Jack, this is like being in a mine, and it must be fiery, as they call it, being so hot. Will there be any danger of an explosion from gas?”

“Oh, surely not. This isn’t a coal-mine, but a sort of grotto under a flow of lava. Try if one of them will light.”

“All right, sir. I say, they rattle all right, as if they were hard.”

The box clicked as Ned opened it; he took out a match, rubbed it sharply, and there was a faint line of phosphorescent light.

“No go, sir; just like one of them fishy things we get alongside.”

“Try another.”

Whisk—crick—crick—crack—and a flash of light.

“Hooray!” cried Ned, as the tiny taper blazed up and burned steadily, showing that the holder was close to the edge of a huge chasm, down which a couple of strides would have taken him, and as the light burned lower Jack crept quickly to where Ned still crouched by the side of the passage.

“Why, Ned, I could not see much, but this opens out here into a vast place.”

“Yes, sir; I got a glimpse of it. Shall I light another match?”

“No, no, save them.”

“But we ought to get out of here as soon as we can, sir.”

“Of course, but we shall see a faint gleam from the entrance directly our eyes have grown used to the change.”

“Shall we, sir?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t want to show the white feather again, but I can’t help feeling that we ought to be out of this.”

“Wait and listen.”

“Can’t hear nothing, sir,” said the man after a minute’s pause.

“No, and I can see the faint dawn of light there gleaming against the wall yonder. Let’s begin to go back very quietly in case the blacks are still there.”

“I’m more than ready, sir.”

“Then lead on, Ned.”

“Mean it, sir?”

“Yes, go on.”

Ned rose, and Jack followed suit, to begin stepping cautiously on, till by slow degrees they reached the sharp angle in the passage, and could look straight out to the entrance and see that all was clear, while there before them was the bright sunny sky, and away in the distance the gleaming sea.

“I say, who’s afraid?” cried Ned excitedly. “But, Mr Jack, sir, what a rum thing darkness is! I felt twice as much scared over that as I did about the niggers, and— Oh, I say, look at that!”

Before the lad could grasp what he was about to do, Ned ran forward toward the light till he was half-way to the mouth of the cavern, when Jack saw the dark silhouette-like figure stoop down again and again, to pick up something each time, and he returned laughing, bearing quite a bundle of spears, bows, and arrows.

“There, I was right,” cried Jack; “they were frightened—so scared that they dropped their weapons and ran.”

“Yes, sir, and set us up with some tools. Oh, if it had only been our guns!”

Chapter Thirty Two.

The evil of not being used to it.

But the blacks had not left the guns, and utterly unused as these two were to the use of such savage weapons, they felt a thrill of satisfaction run through them as they grasped the means of making one stroke in defence of their lives.

“It’s a many years since I used to go into the copses to cut myself a good hazel and make myself a bow, Mr Jack, and get reeds out of the edge of the long lake, to tie nails in the ends and use for arrows. I used to bind the nails in with whitey-brown thread well beeswaxed, and then dress the notch at the other end to keep the bowstring from splitting it up. I’ve hit rabbits with an arrow before now, though they always run into their holes. You can shoot with a bow and arrow at a target of course?”

“I? No, Ned,” said the boy sadly. “I can’t do anything but read.”

“Oh, I say, sir! Why, I’ve seen you knock over things with a gun. Look how you finished that sea snake.”

“I suppose I’d better try though, Ned.”

“Why of course, sir. You take the one you like. Here’s three of them. Wish they hadn’t been so stingy with the arrows—only five between two of us. Never mind. Hadn’t got any ten minutes ago. We’ll keep a pair apiece and have one to spare, and a spear each. We’ll leave the others in here, and let ’em fetch ’em if they dare.”

“Yes,” said Jack, selecting his weapons; “but we must not go out yet.”

“Well, sir, I don’t want to interfere, but I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday, and if I don’t soon do some stoking my engine won’t go.”

“But you don’t expect that you are going to kill anything with these things?” cried Jack.

“I’m going to try, sir. Savages can, and have a feast of roast pig after, so we ought to be able to. Don’t you think we might risk starting, and get higher up the mountain, and then round somehow, and make for the shore?”

“It will be very risky by daylight.”

“But we can’t go in the dark, sir.”

“Come on then,” cried Jack. “The blacks may have been scared right away, so let’s chance it.”

He led the way to the entrance, where, to the great delight of both, they found another bow lying, and close by one of the melon-headed war-clubs and a bundle of arrows, upon which Ned pounced regardless of danger, while Jack crept to the stones outside and took a long look round, over gully, rock, and patch of forest. But there was nothing living within sight but a couple of flocks of birds, one green, the others milky white, and showing plainly as they flew over against the green trees.

“See anything of that lame pig, sir?” said Ned, handing him the arrows to take what he liked.

“No; nor the blacks neither.”

“They’re hiding somewhere, sir, and I dare say on the look-out, or I’d be for going to have a look below there.”

“That would be too risky, Ned. Let’s creep to where we can get cover, and then do as you say, keep along the more open part under the trees, and see if we can get round somewhere by the sands.”

“On you go then, sir, and whatever you do, don’t lose a chance of a shot. We must have something to eat, or we can never get back. Oh yes, you’re a very beautiful island, no doubt—very well to look at, but I don’t think much of a place where you can’t find the very fruit as would be a blessing to us now.”

“And what fruit’s that, Ned?” said Jack, as they reached the shelter of the trees about a couple of hundred yards from the mouth of the cave.

“Well, sir, I’m not an Irishman, for as far back as I know we all came from Surrey; but I’d give something if I could find a patch of ’em going off at the haulm, ready to be grubbed up and shoved in the ashes of a fire to roast.”

“What, potatoes?”

“Yes, sir, a good big round ’tater would just about fit me now, and I shouldn’t fiddle about any nonsense as to trying it on.”

“There’ll be no potatoes for you, Ned, but we may find some wild bananas lower down.”

“That’s a nice comforting way of talking to a poor hungry chap who is going up, Mr Jack; but you keep a good look-out, and we must have a shot at the first thing we see, and then light a fire and cook it, and if that first thing we see happens to be a nigger, sir—well, I’m sorry for him, and I hope he won’t be tough!”

Ned directed a comical look at his young master as he began to try the bow, holding it in his injured, nerveless grasp, and pulling at the string.

“Is it hard, Ned?”

“Pretty tidy, sir. Takes a good pull, but I can manage it, and—Hullo! Look at that.”

He threw the bow, arrows, and spear down, stretched out his left arm to the full extent; drew it in so as to raise the biceps, and then stretched it out again, and began to move it round like the sail of a windmill.

“What’s the matter with you?” cried Jack. “Are you going mad?”

“Pretty nigh, sir. Look at that—and that—and that!”

The three “thats” were so many imaginary blows in the air, delivered sharply and with all the man’s force.

“But I don’t understand you, Ned. What do you mean?”

“Why, can’t you see, sir? That arm’s been as dead as a stick ever since I got that arrow, now it has come to life again, and is stronger than ever. I know what’s done it!”

“Being obliged to try and use it,” cried Jack quickly.

“That’s got something to do with it perhaps, sir, but that isn’t everything. It was that soaking last night, and then the stewing in that hot sand. It took all the rest of the trouble away. Now then, only let me get a chance at one of these chaps, and I’ll try how he likes arrow. I’ll ’arrow his feelings a bit.”

“But are you sure your arm is quite strong again?” cried Jack joyfully.

For answer Ned swung his left round the speaker’s waist, lifted him from the ground, and held him up with ease.

“What do you say to that, sir? But there, come along, I want to get something to eat. I feel horrid, and begin to understand how it is that some of the people out here eat one another.”

“Don’t keep on talking such absurd stuff, Ned,” cried Jack, half angrily, half amused; for in the early stages of suffering from hunger there are symptoms of a weak hysterical disposition to laugh.

“But I’m so hungry, sir!”

“Well, push on, and we may get a chance at a big bird of some kind. But suppose we should shoot one—we might—these arrows may be poisoned.”

“Wouldn’t matter, sir. They say cooking kills the poison. Which way now?”

“Keep bearing to the right up the mountain, but always well within shelter. We must not be taken again.”

“Good-bye to the wild bananas that grow below,” muttered Ned; and he pressed on eagerly, but keeping a sharp look-out all the while, and whenever an opening had to be crossed, setting the example of going down on all fours.

“Won’t do though to keep like this, sir,” he said; “why, they’d shoot at us at once for wild beasts of some kind. But do look here, sir! Ain’t it wonderful—ain’t it grand? My arm feels as if it had been bottling up all its strength, and to be readier than ever now. Oh, if we could only see something to shoot at.”

But saving small brightly-plumaged birds, they encountered nothing to tempt the venture of an arrow, and at the end of what must have been quite two hours, when the cave of the lava flow was left far behind, and several hundred feet lower, Jack dropped upon his knees beside a lovely little pool, into which trickled through the rocks and stones a thread-like stream of the clearest water.

“No, no, sir, don’t drink—it’s bad. Cold water when you’re hot, and on an empty stomach.”

“But I’m so thirsty, Ned, and it looks so tempting.”

“I’m ever so much thirstier, sir. Look here, let’s do what they do with horses. Just wash our mouths out, but don’t let’s swallow any.”

As he spoke he went to the other side of the little rock pool, which was not above a foot deep and about four across, lying close up to the foot of one of the great rock walls which grew more frequent the higher they ascended. Then together they dipped a hand in the soft, cool, limpid fluid, and raised it to their lips.

“Poof!” ejaculated Ned, spluttering the water away. “Oh, what a shame! There ought to be a notice up—Beware of the water. Why, it’s like poison, sir. Ten times worse than that horrid stuff by the falls. Oh, come on. Only fancy for there to be water like that. Physic’s nothing to it.”

Jack’s disappointment was a little softened by his amusement, and they resumed their tramp, rising higher and higher as they kept up a diagonal course along the mountain slope; but the difficulties in the way, and the caution requisite in passing through what they felt to be a dangerous enemy’s land, made the progress slow, and after a time they seated themselves for a rest upon one of the many moss-grown masses of lava rock they passed, beneath an umbrageous tree, in which a flock of tiny finch-like birds were twittering, and once more looked around.

The prospect was not wide, for they were surrounded by trees, and it was only by keeping close to one or other of the many lava rivers, where the growth of the forest was scanty, that they were able to progress as they did.

“Nothing to eat, nothing to drink,” groaned Ned. “I say, Mr Jack, this is getting serious. What’s to be done?”

“Rest a bit, and then at the first opportunity, say as soon as we have passed over that knoll there, let’s begin to descend toward the shore. I hope we shall miss the blacks then.”

“And come across some one looking for us, sir, and carrying a basket. If it was only a bit of hard ship’s biscuit now, I wouldn’t care.”

“Hark! What’s that?”

“Cockatoo, sir,” whispered Ned. “I know their screech. I’ll go and try and get a shot at him.”

“Better sit still and rest, and chance the flock coming near. If you follow them they’ll hear you, and lead you farther and farther away.”

“Yes, I know that, sir, but I’m so hungry, and I’m afraid to begin chewing leaves for fear of poison. Hullo! Don’t move, sir. Hear that? You’re right, this is the best way and the easiest.”

“What shall we do, Ned, shoot, or try to get at them with the spears?”

“Let’s see ’em first, sir,” said Ned wisely, “and wait our chance, and then do both.”

The objects which had excited their attention by sundry familiar sounding grunts were not long in showing themselves in the shape of a little herd of pigs, three old ones and about a dozen half-grown; and as they came down a slope to their left, and began rooting about under the trees a couple of hundred yards away, Ned softly smacked his lips, looked at Jack, took out his brass matchbox, and said the expressive word “crackling.”

The formation of the mountain side was mostly that of shallow stony gullies opening one into the other, but all with the general tendency up and down, and it was on the slope of one of these that the fugitives were resting, while the herd had entered it from its highest part.

Ned’s fingers played tremblingly about the bow he held. Then he felt his arm, and a look of joy and pride came into his eyes.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I say, sir, wasn’t it a grand idea to leave some pigs here to breed? You stop quiet and wait your chance.”

“Why? What are you going to do?” whispered Jack.

“Creep round by the back of this tree, sir, and as they feed down I’ll go up the side, and by and by you’ll see me dodging softly along toward you over yonder beyond them. Then we shall have ’em between us, and if they take fright they must either go up or down, and pass one of us. It’s our chance, and we must not let it go. Look here, sir, you choose one of the little ones, and wait till you think you can hit him. Then hold up your hand and we’ll fire together. Then run at ’em with your spear. We must get one or else starve.”

It was the best way of approaching success, as Jack saw, and whispering that he would do as his companion suggested, he sat there watching Ned’s movements as he crept away up the slope and disappeared. Then fitting an arrow to the bowstring, after laying his spear ready by his side, he rested the bow across his knees, and sat on his mossy stone, watching the movements of the little herd, and expecting, moment by moment, to see one of the watchful elders take alarm, give warning, and the whole party dash back up the gully.

But they kept rooting and hunting about, evidently for some kind of fruit which fell from the trees, and Jack felt as if he were far back in the past, a hunter on that beautiful, wild mountain slope, dependent upon his bow for his existence. The sun poured down its hot rays, making the leaves glisten like metal, and the air was so clear that the pigs’ eyes and every movement were as plain as if close at hand.

“Seems treacherous lying in wait like this,” he thought. “Poor wretches! they all look as playful and contented as can be.”

But he knew that he and Ned must eat if they were ever to escape from that mountain, and the sentiment of pity died out as the time went on.

The pigs were slow in coming down, for under the trees at the other side of the gully the fruit they sought seemed to be plentiful, and he could see the younger ones hunting one another as a lucky find was made, this resulting in a good deal of squealing, while above it the deep grunts of the elders were plainly heard.

But there was no sight of Ned, and half-an-hour must have passed, with the pigs still out of reach for a good shot.

“If they do come this way,” thought the lad, “I can’t study about picking one; I must shoot into the thickest part and chance it. But where is Ned? Why don’t he show?”

At last there was the appearance far up of a large pig coming down toward the herd, but the next moment, as it glided among the leaves, Jack saw that it was a pig with clothes on, and that it carried a bow and arrow.

The time had come for a shot, and softly and slowly the lad edged himself back till he could drop on his knees behind the stone, rest the bow upon it horizontally, and wait for the critical moment to draw and launch his arrow.

He could watch Ned the while as well as the herd, and by slow degrees he saw his companion creep from tree-trunk to tree-trunk, slowly diminishing the distance, while, having probably cleared off the fallen fruit, the herd broke into a trot as if to pass within twenty yards of where he waited.

But the next minute they had stopped fifty yards away, and Ned had soon reduced his distance till he was about as much above them. Then all at once he disappeared.

The minutes seemed to be terribly long drawn out now, but the herd came lower and lower, till fully half of them were rambling about just in front; and feeling that he would never have a better chance, the lad singled out one half-grown fellow in the midst of three more, all feeding, and he held up his hand for a moment or two in the hope that Ned might see it, though where he hid it was impossible to say.

Slight as was the movement of the raised hand it was seen, for the biggest pig, a rough, bristly-necked animal, suddenly raised its head and gazed sharply, with eyes that looked fiery in the brilliant sunshine, straight in his direction.

Twang! twang! went two bowstrings, the arrows whizzed through the air, and in the midst of a rush, away tore the herd down the valley, just as Ned leaped up, made a bound or two, and plunged his spear down amidst the bushes.

Jack dropped his bow, caught up his own spear, and dashed forward to help finish the wounded pigs, and Ned was up before him, panting and dripping with perspiration.

“Got one?” cried Jack.

“Got one!” cried Ned bitterly. “Course we ain’t. Just like my luck.”

“Oh!” groaned Jack, as a pang of hunger shot through him.

“I never saw such arrows,” cried Ned passionately. “I could smash the lot. They don’t go straight.”

“Is it any use to follow them?” said Jack.

“No, sir; it ain’t,” cried the man angrily. “And what’s more, you know it ain’t. What’s the good of aggravating a poor fellow? And,” he added pathetically, “I did mean to have such a roast.”

Chapter Thirty Three.

In the face of peril.

“Come on,” said Jack, after they had stood listening for a few minutes, and gazing in the direction taken by the pigs. “Is it any use looking for the arrows?”

“Not a bit, sir. Here, only let me find one lying asleep in the mud somewhere. I dare say there’s, dozens doing it now, with their eyes shut, and their curly tails pretending to whisk away the flies. Come on, sir, we must keep going, hot as it is. Never mind, we shall do it yet, but next time I’m not going to trust to bows and arrows. You shall hunt them down to where I’m hiding, and I’ll skewer one somehow or another.”

But in the next two hours’ weary struggle among trees, rocks, and waving creepers they only heard pigs once, and then it was as they dashed off unseen, grunting and squealing wildly. Birds were scarcer and very small, while they felt no temptation to try the esculent qualities of the lizards they saw glancing about over the hot lava, or of the snakes which hurriedly crawled away.

They were successful though in finding a trickling stream of pure cold water, and a tree bearing a kind of fruit something like a poor, small apricot with a very large stone. It was bitter and sour, but it did, as Ned said, to clean your teeth.

Three more arrows were lost in shooting at birds, but without success, and Ned shook his head.

“I don’t know how it is with you, sir,” he said, “but my arm has had such a long rest that the muscles now seem to be too strong, and they must have jerked the bow just when I let go the string.”

“I can soon tell you how it is with me, Ned,” said Jack. “I never could use a bow and arrow, so of course I can’t now.”

They struggled on, growing less cautious in their eagerness to get down to the shore.

“Shall get some cocoanuts there, if we can’t get anything else, sir,” said Ned; “but I do hope it will be somewhere near the yacht.”

“But how are we to signal them if we don’t get there before dark?”

“Light a fire on the sands, sir. Oh, don’t you be afraid of that. It’s the getting there is the difficulty.”

It was growing well on in the afternoon when this was said, and, so weak and exhausted that they could hardly struggle on, they welcomed an open slope covered with some creeping kind of plant, as it seemed, for it offered the prospect of getting along better for a couple of hundred yards. Here, too, they could see down a ravine to the reef, which seemed to be wonderfully close at hand, though they knew that they had miles to struggle over before they could reach the sands—and such miles.

“Let’s make for that valley, Ned, and try to go down there.”

“Very well, sir; just which way you like. Seems all the same; but let’s get close up to the trees, though it’s furthest, for we may find some kind of fruit. What a country! Not so much as an apple, let alone a pear, or— Mr Jack, sir! Oh!”

“What is it?” cried Jack, startled by his companion’s excitement. “What have you found?”

For Ned had thrown himself upon his knees, and with one end of the bow was tearing away at the straggling plants which covered the ground wherever it was not rocky or smothered by bush.

“Can’t you see, sir? Here, come and help. ’Taters!”

“What?” cried Jack.

“Yes, ’taters, sir; only little ’uns. Not so big as noo potaties at home, but ’taters they are. Look!”

“Fingers were made before forks,” says the old proverb, so under the circumstances it was not surprising that Ned began to use his hands as if they were gardener’s potato forks, and with such success that in a short time quite a little heap of the yellow tubers were dug out of the loose sandy soil, the average size being that of walnuts.

Jack set to work at once to help, but he had hardly dragged away a couple of handfuls of haulm when he started up with a cry of alarm.

Ned leaped up too and seized his spear, expecting to have to face the blacks; but the enemy was a good-sized snake which had been nestling beneath the thick stalks of the plants, and now stood up fully three feet above the tops of the growth, with head drawn back, moving to and fro as if about to launch itself forward and strike at the first who approached it.

“Stand back, Mr Jack,” cried the man, and with one mower-like sweep of his spear-handle he caught the serpent a few inches below its threatening head, and it dropped writhing at once, with its vertebras broken.

“Can’t stand any nonsense from things like that, sir,” cried Ned, as he took his spear now as if it had been a pitchfork, raised the twining reptile from among the haulms, and after carrying it a few yards, threw it cleverly right away among the bushes at the side.

“Take care, perhaps there are more,” said Jack. “So much the worse for them if there are, sir. I want the ’taters, and I’d have ’em if the place was full of boa-constrictors as big as they grow. Come on.”

In a very short time they had their pockets and handkerchiefs full, the tubers coming out of the hot, dry, sandy soil perfectly clean; and thus furnished, they made for a spot where the lava rock was piled up, selected a niche, and scraped out a sandy hollow about a couple of feet across, laid the potatoes down singly and close together, covered them again with the sand, and then turned to the edge of the nearest patch of trees to gather dead boughs, leaves, everything they could which seemed likely to burn, and carried it to their improvised oven.

“Suppose the blacks see the smoke of the fire?” said Jack, as they piled up the smaller twigs and leaves over the potatoes, and Ned brought out his box of matches.

“I can’t suppose anything, sir, only that we must eat. If they do come on for a fair fight, I’m ready. Fight I will for these ’taters, come what may.”

The leaves and twigs caught readily, and the smoke began to curl up in the clear sunny air, as bigger and bigger pieces of wood were thrown on. Then as they went to the foot of the trees for more of that which lay in abundance, they glanced in all directions, but all was silent and solitary, with the beautifully-shaped mountain curving up above them, and a faint mist as of heat just visible in transparent wreaths above its summit.

“Don’t let’s take too much, Mr Jack—only a little at a time, so as to have to come again and again.”

“Why not take as much as we can carry now?”

“Because if we do we can’t put it all on at once, and we only want a nice gentle fire, and to keep on mending it till there are plenty of ashes.”

“Well, we need not put it all on if we’ve got it there.”

“But we must have something to do, sir.”

“Well, lie down and rest till the potatoes are done.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. You can’t think of what agony it will be. They must have half-an-hour, and it will seem like a week. You take my advice, sir. I’m sure it’s right.”

“Very well,” said Jack, and they kept on going to and fro, breaking enough to keep on feeding the fire, and trying hard not to think about what was cooking, as they still piled on the twigs and branches of dead wood, Ned busying himself in breaking them up, far more than was necessary in his desperate determination not to be tempted to draw out a single tuber before they were done.

“I know what ’taters are, sir,” he said between his teeth, “and as bad as can be really raw, but the gloriousest things as ever were for a hungry man when he has got nothing else. But what a pity it is! If we’d had our guns we could soon have brought down a skewerful or two of those green and scarlet parrots to roast, and— Oh, don’t talk about it. Makes my mouth water horribly.”

“Think they’re done now, Ned?” said Jack, after three or four journeys to and fro.

“No, sir, nor yet half. The sand underneath has to get hot. I tell you what, we’ll dig up some more and put them in the hot ashes after these are done, to cook and take away with us. They’ll do all right while we’re eating our dinner.”

“Very well,” said Jack, as he tried hard to curb his impatience, “but it’s terrible, this waiting.”

“Try not to think about it, please, sir. There, let’s make up the fire once more, and then go and dig.”

The wood was fetched and thrown on, both standing a little back afterward, and having a hard struggle to keep from raking out two or three of the potatoes to try if they were done, but they mastered themselves bravely, and hurried to the spot where they had dug before, to find it taken possession of by a larger and thicker snake than the one that had been killed. It was coiled up on the dry sand which they had cleared of leaves, and rose up menacingly at their approach.

“What shall we do—go somewhere else?” said Jack.

“No, sir, that we won’t,” cried Ned fiercely. “If that long eely thing chooses to play dog in the manger over the potatoes, it must take the consequences. I’ll soon finish him. Think he’s poisonous?”

“I feel sure of it, Ned,” said Jack anxiously. “Look at the swollen poison glands.”

“That settles it. Seems to me like a duty to kill poisonous things. I know what it is to be poisoned, sir.”

He gave his shoulder a twist, and advanced toward the serpent with his spear-handle ready.

“You keep back, sir, and let me have room to swing my spear round.”

“No; I want to kill this one, Ned.”

“Better not, sir. It’s risky. You might miss.”

“You be ready to strike him if I do.”

“Very well then, sir; only be careful. A good swish round will do it, but snakes are quick as lightning, and we’ve had trouble enough without you getting bitten.”

The snake rose higher, and prepared to strike as Jack advanced, holding his spear in both hands, and waiting his opportunity, he brought it round with all his force, but the end passed, through his miscalculation of the distance, a couple of inches short of the reptile’s head, and before the lad could recover himself to make another blow, the creature struck back, and would have fastened upon him but for Ned’s quick interposition of his own spear-handle, against which the serpent struck instead.

The next moment Ned struck again, full on the creature’s back, and it was helpless now for attack, writhing in amongst the growth till Jack obtained another fine cut at it, and the battle was at an end.

Ned picked it, up upon the end of his spear.

“They say that things are good if roasted, sir. What do you say—shall we cook him?”

“Ugh! No. Throw the horrible thing away.”

“Yes, sir; off it goes. One wants another day’s starving to eat roast snake.”

He sent the nearly dead creature whirling through the air with a sudden jerk of his spear-handle, and then turned to Jack.

“Now, sir,” he said, “as quick as you can, and then—”

He did not finish his sentence, but threw himself upon his knees again. Jack followed his example, and for about ten minutes they busied themselves getting another load, and then ran to the fireside and emptied all they had into a heap.

“Now then,” cried Ned; “but be careful, sir; they’ll be horribly hot.”

Jack said nothing, but looked on while his companion thrust the still burning wood aside with his spear, then swept off the thick bed of glowing embers, and lastly the hot sand, before turning the potatoes out into a heap on the other side, and spreading them to cool.

“Let ’em be, sir, till we’ve charged the oven again,” cried Ned, and the fight now was harder than ever as they began to throw the fresh batch into the hot pit. But it was done, and the sand swept over them. The glowing embers followed, the wood was piled on, to begin crackling and blazing, and then, and then only, did they fall to.

Only a meal of little hot roasted potatoes, without butter, pepper, or salt, but no banquet of the choicest luxuries could have tasted half so good. They were done to a turn, and though very small, of the most desirable flavour, and satisfying to a degree.

“Try another, sir, try another,” Ned kept on saying; but Jack needed no urging, and as he sat there eating one after another, the sun seemed to be less hot, the place around more beautiful, the shore less distant, and the possibility of their reaching the yacht that night more and more of a certainty. But that certainty began to grow into doubt when, well satisfied by their meal, the pair lay back to rest a little before making a fresh start.

“Must give the second batch time to get well done, sir, and to cool a bit, before we toddle, and then we ought to be on the look-out for water. A good drink wouldn’t come amiss.”

“No,” replied Jack slowly; “but hadn’t we better get some more wood to put on? The fire’s getting very low.”

“No, sir, it’s just right. There’s a good heap of embers now, and by the time the wood’s all burned the potatoes will be about done. Think any one planted them here first?”

“I should say they were planted by the captain who left the pigs.”

“Then I say he ought to have a monument, sir, for it was the finest thing he ever did in his life—much finer than anything I shall ever do. My, how different everything looks after you’ve had a good feed!”

Jack made no reply to that, but said, a minute or so later—

“Think the savages have seen our fire, Ned?”

There was no reply.

“’Sleep, Ned?” said Jack, looking toward him.

There was still no reply.

“Poor fellow! Let him rest a bit,” thought the boy; and then he began to think of what news it would be when he got back to the yacht, to announce that the arm was restored. The yacht brought up the thought of sailing right away over the blue waters, gliding easily on, with the warm sun upon his cheek and the soft breeze fanning his brows, and Jack Meadows went on sailing away, but it was only in fancy, for he too, utterly worn out by the morning’s exertions, was fast asleep, without a thought that danger might be near.

Chapter Thirty Four.

Cookery under queer circumstances.

“Ah–e! Ah–e! Ah–e!”

A loud peculiar call, followed by a repetition from a distance, too long after to be a reverberation, though strange echoes had been heard from far up the mountain when a shot was fired well down in one or other of the ravines which scored the slopes of the volcano.

There was a pause of a few minutes, another cry came again, and was answered or echoed.

The first time it had no effect whatever upon Jack, who lay upon his back fast asleep, in the deep slumber which comes to the hungry after that hunger has been appeased.

But there was the strange instinct of self-preservation awake in the lad, and that had started into watchfulness, though the body remained inert, and when the cry was repeated the body was warned, and Jack aroused into wakefulness, feeling, he knew not why, that something was wrong.

It was close upon sunset, and the cap of the mountain glowed once more as if it had burst into eruption, but all was perfectly still save the whistling and shrieking of birds at a distance.

He did not move, but turned his eyes toward where Ned lay snoring softly; then he cast his eyes toward the fire, which was apparently quite out, but the next moment the soft sea-breeze came with a gentle puff, and the embers glowed faintly, showing that with a little tending there was enough left to revive the blaze again.

The silence in face of that wondrous glow overhead was oppressive, and the feeling of danger at hand seemed to grow, and then began to die out, for there was nothing visible, till all at once a peculiarity close up by the glowing wood ashes took the lad’s attention, and then he shuddered slightly, for there, evidently attracted by the warmth, toward which they had crawled, were several snakes, with the possibility of there being more which he could not see. For the most part they were small, but a part of the coil of one showed that its owner must be as thick as his arm, and beyond lay in a kind of double S one that was far larger.

Then all at once there came the peculiar cry which had awakened him, and it had hardly died out when it was answered from the edge of the forest beyond the opening, at one side of which they lay.

“All right, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned in a muttering, ill-used tone. “We’ll toddle on now. Needn’t be so hard on a fellow. Only just closed my eyes.”

Jack turned his head to the speaker, but Ned had not stirred, and after a momentary glance in the direction from which the call had come—evidently the ravine leading down to the sea—he rolled over three times, and brought himself close enough to touch his companion. But in the act of turning he felt something move, there was a sharp struggling, and a snake glided from beneath him hissing angrily, and he turned cold at the thought that another of the dangerous creatures had been sleeping coiled up closely to him for warmth.

Worse still, the hissing and rustling had startled those by the fire. Two malignant heads suddenly started up a few inches, and there was that peculiar gliding of coils in which the same serpent seems to be going in several directions at once.

For a few minutes Jack lay perfectly still, feeling as if he were yielding to that peculiar fear which paralyses in the presence of a serpent. But he closed his eyes, set his teeth hard, and remained motionless, mentally combating the sensation of horror and mastered it. While upon unclosing his eyes and looking in the direction of the fire, he saw that the coiling and uncoiling had ceased, and the raised heads had been lowered as if to resume the interrupted sleep.

Jack felt that action was the best safeguard against the horrible, paralysing sensation, and softly passing his hand along till he could touch Ned’s face, he tapped his cheek sharply.

“Don’t!”

He tapped again.

“I’m awake, I tell you. Guv’nors’ call?”

“Ned!—Ned!”

“Eh? yes!—all right. That you, Mr Jack?”

“Yes. Hush!” whispered the lad. “Don’t move; don’t raise a hand. Listen. Are you quite awake?”

“Yes, sir. What’s the matter?”

“We’re in danger, Ned.”

“Yes, sir, I knew that before I shut my eyes; but it was no use to holloa about it. What is it now?”

The call was repeated and answered before Jack spoke.

“Oh, that’s it, is it, sir?” said Ned quietly. “Pretty creatures. After us again, eh? Well, if we lie still they won’t see us, and—yes—shadow’s rising on the mountain, it will be dark directly. All we’ve got to do is to make out which way they go, and then go the other, so the sooner they show the better for us—I mean before it gets dark. Such a stupid place too; there ain’t no evening, it’s dark directly.”

“There’s more danger, Ned,” whispered Jack.

“Eh? what, ain’t that enough, sir? Well, what is it?”

“Turn your head very gently, so that you can look at the fire.”

“Yes, sir.—Well, it’s out.”

“Don’t you see anything there?”

“Whoo!” ejaculated the man in a tone full of horror, “snakes, hundreds of ’em! Oh, we mustn’t stand that, sir; they’re waiting till it’s cool enough, so as to get our ’taters.”

“Nonsense: after the warmth. Now you see, Ned. What’s to be done?”

The man was silent for a few moments. Then softly—

“This is nice, Mr Jack; we can’t get up and run away because of the niggers, and we can’t stop here because of the snakes. Yes; what’s to be done?”

Jack was silent in turn for a few moments.

“Let’s crawl a little way off, Ned.”

Jack set the example, and it was very willingly followed, till they were a dozen yards farther from the fire; but before half the distance was covered, the shouting of the blacks was heard again.

“I say, Mr Jack,” whispered Ned, as they subsided, “you’re a very clever fellow over your books.”

“Am I, Ned?” said Jack sadly.

“Oh, yes, I’ve often heard the guv’nor and Doctor Instow say so. Well then, there’s me. I’m sharp enough over my work—sort of handy chap.”

“Yes; but what’s the good of talking about that now?”

“I was only thinking, sir. Here’s you and me making no end of a fuss, and starving, and all the rest of it, and getting into a state o’ melancholy, because we’ve lost our way, while these poor ignorant savages go about without any clothes, and regularly enjoy themselves in the same place.”

“Yes, Ned, they are a deal cleverer than we are after all.”

“That they ain’t, sir. We’ve only got to use our brains more, and we can beat ’em hollow. I ain’t going to dump it any more. It’s like saying a nigger’s a better man than a white; and he ain’t. Now then, as the boy in the book I once read used to say, take it coolly, and let’s see if we haven’t got more brains than they have.”

“Very well, Ned; but now, if we don’t mind, they’ll kill us.”

“Then we will mind, sir. I should like to catch ’em at it. First thing is we must now be cool. Well, we’ve got enough for to-morrow, only those snakes are watching it. Well, while we’re waiting for those niggers to go by, let’s give the snakes notice to quit.”

“How? Pelt ’em?”

“There; look at him!” said Ned. “Only wants a bit of thinking. Come on, sir, we can do it as we lie here; they’ll soon scatter.”

“But suppose they come this way?”

“Throw at ’em again, sir. Ready?”

There were plenty of loose fragments of lava lying about in the sandy soil, stones which had doubtless been ejected by the volcano, to fall upon its slopes, and which had in course of time been washed lower and lower, and armed with these, they began to pelt the sides of the fire, the effect being wonderfully speedy. As the first stones fell there was a strange rustling and hissing, heads were raised menacingly up, and as a second couple fell the reptiles began to move off rapidly.

“Two biggest coming this way, Ned,” said Jack excitedly, and gathering a half-dozen or so smaller stones in his right hand, he hurled them catapult fashion right at the advancing heads, with the result that the two reptiles turned sharply, and went off at full speed in beneath the abundant growth of plants, while at the end of a few minutes the missiles thrown in their track produced no effect.

“That’s done, sir,” said Ned coolly, “and our to-morrow’s dinner’s safe, and it’ll be very hard if I don’t dodge something better to go with it. Hist! hear that!”

The call had been uttered evidently much nearer, and Jack grasped his spear.

“That’s right, sir,” whispered Ned, “but this is a big place, and it ain’t likely that they’ll come right over us. Let’s lie still and listen. We can’t see them, and they can’t see us.”

At that moment Jack pinched the speaker’s arm, and pointed over him.

“Something to see that way? All right, sir.”

He softly wrenched himself round, and gazed in the indicated direction, to see a black figure standing in bold relief against the orange slope of the mountain. He was nearby a hundred feet higher than where they lay, having mounted upon a ridge which was probably one of the hardened lava-streams which had flowed down, and as they watched him, one by one seven more joined him.

He stood looking round for a few moments, and then uttered the cry they had heard before, and turned to descend, making straight for the bend of the ravine which seemed to lead to the shore.

The call was responded to, and a few minutes after another party came into sight away to the left, making apparently for the same place, and if they kept on, it was evident that they would pass about a hundred yards from Jack and his companion, so that their policy was to lie quite still.

“Be too dark to see us in ten minutes, sir,” whispered Ned.

“Yes; and then we can’t do better than make our way up that ridge till we come upon another valley running down to the shore.”

“That’s the way, sir,” said Ned. “Only wants a little thinking about. A set o’ naked niggers beat you at scheming? Why, it ain’t likely.”

But they had a scare a quarter of an hour later, the second party of blacks coming into sight suddenly, not twenty yards away, tramping in Indian file, with their spears over their shoulders, and for the moment Jack’s heart seemed to stand still, and he grasped his weapon, ready to make one blow for his life.

For it seemed impossible that the men could pass by—men of such a keen, observant nature—without seeing the pair lying there amongst the trailing growth of the potatoes.

Worse still, they came nearer, so as to avoid a block of stone in their way, and one of the number leaped upon it, and after a look round, uttered the call of his tribe, just as one of a flock of running birds does to keep the rest together.

“Now for it,” thought Jack, as the black looked straight in his direction, and he prepared to spring up as the man leaped down, and seemed about to run at him, spear in hand.

But just when an encounter for life or death seemed inevitable, the savage trotted on, and the others followed, seeming to grow shorter, till one by one they disappeared, shoulders, heads, tops of the spears, dissolving into the coming gloom of evening.

“Oh, scissors!” whispered Ned. “I say, Mr Jack, sir, if I’d held my breath much longer, I’m sure all the works would have stopped.”

“I thought it was all over, Ned.”

“Yes, sir, so did I; but I meant to have a dig at one or two of ’em first. Talk about as near as a toucher, that was nearer. How do you feel now?”

“Heart beats horribly.”

“So does mine, sir. It’s going like a steam-pump with too much to do. But who’s afraid?”

“I am, Ned.”

“That you are not, sir. I’m just the same as you, but it’s only excitement, and what any one would feel. Now then they’ve gone down and blocked our road, so we must go up another way. Just give ’em another five minutes, and then we’ll go and get our ’taters.”

The ashes were soon being raked aside, and the invaluable potatoes about to be uncovered, when Ned sniffed.

“I say, Mr Jack, sir, they smell good.”

“Why, what’s that, Ned?” cried Jack, pointing through the gloom at something long and stiff curled up into a knot.

“That, sir? Well, I am stunned. Why, it’s one of they snakes, sir, got closer in to get warm, and he overdid it. He’s cooked; and just you smell, sir.”

“Ugh! throw it away.”

“But it smells ’licious, sir. It does really.”

“It makes me feel sick, Ned—the idea’s horrible. Why it will have spoiled all the potatoes.”

“Don’t make me feel sick, sir; makes me feel hungry. You’ve no idea how good it smells.”

“What! a horrible reptile?”

“So’s a turtle, sir; and you won’t say turtle-soup isn’t good.”

“But a snake, and perhaps poisonous, Ned?”

“We shouldn’t eat his head, sir. Don’t see why you might not just as well eat a snake as an eel, sir.”

“Throw it away!” cried Jack sharply.

“All right, sir, you’re master.—Good-bye, good victuals!” Ned added in an undertone.—“Won’t have hurt the taters, sir, there was all this thick layer of ashes between.”

“Are they burnt up?”

“No, sir, just right, and floury as can be. Look at that.”

It was getting too dark to see much; but Jack made out that the little round vegetable was all floury where it was broken.

The whole cooking was raked out, the ashes scattered away, and Ned proceeded to take out his knife and hand it to his young master, with instructions to cut out his shirt-sleeves just at the shoulder.

“I shall be warm enough without them, sir,” he said. “There: now we’ll just tie up the ends, and here we have a good bag apiece to carry the taters in. Nothing like having a bit of string in your pocket, sir. I wonder whether Robinson Crusoe had a bit o’ string when he was wrecked; I ’spose he would have, because he could have twisted up a bit out of the old ropes. It’s always useful, sir. There you are, now. I’ll tie the bags together, and swing ’em over my shoulder, one on each side.”

“I’ll carry one.”

“You shall have ’em both, sir, when I’m tired and want a bit of a rest. Now then, ready, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Then shoulder arms: march!” They made for the ridge of lava, climbed upon it without much difficulty, and began to ascend the gradual slope it formed, till they were shut in by the trees rising on either side, when the darkness became so intense that their progress was very slow, and they had to depend a good deal upon their spears used as alpenstocks. But one great need urged them on, and it chased away the thoughts of pursuit, and of the risks they were running. This need acted as a spur, which kept them crawling up the solidified river for fully a couple of hours, which were diversified by slips and falls more or less serious.

At last, as the lava flood took a bend round toward the north, they became aware of a bright glow high above their heads, where the summit of the volcano must be, and after a remark from Ned that it looked as if a bit of the sunset was still there, Jack grasped its meaning.

“It’s the reflection of the fire that must be burning up at the top of the mountain.”

“Think so, sir? Well, I suppose it’s too far off to hurt us. That’s miles away.”

“Yes; but we are walking on one of the rivers which ran down, and these stones we keep kicking against were once thrown out.”

“Ah, you’ve read a lot about such things, sir; I haven’t. Then you say it’s all fire up there?”

“Yes, Ned; look, it’s getting brighter.”

“Then what’s the good of our expecting to find water?”

“Because so many springs rise in mountains, and so much water condenses there. Hark! what’s that?”

Ned listened.

“Can’t hear anything, sir.”

“Not that?” cried Jack, whose senses seemed to be sharpened by his needs.

“No, sir, nothing at all.”

Jack made no remark, but pressed on with more spirit than he had before displayed. Then he stopped short in the darkest part they had encountered, a place where the trees encroached so much from the forest on either side that they seemed to be completely shut in.

“Now can you hear it, Ned?” cried the boy triumphantly.

“Yes, sir, I can hear it now—water, and a lot of it falling down the rocks. It must be there just below.”

Ten minutes after they had lowered themselves down amongst the trees, to where in the darkness they could lie flat at the edge of a rocky basin, scooping cool, sweet water with one hand, and drinking with a sense of satisfaction and delight such as they had never experienced before.

“There, Mr Jack,” said Ned joyously, “I don’t know what you think, but I say that it’s worth going through all the trouble we’ve had for a drink like that. Here goes again.”

He bent down over the stone basin, scooping up the water with his hand.

“Have another, Mr Jack, sir,” he cried. “That first one was nothing. It’s coming down over the fall sweeter and fresher than ever.”

Jack, nothing loth, went on drinking again, but in a more leisurely manner.

“That’s it, sir; have a good one. We shall be wanting it to-morrow, when perhaps we can’t get any. Fellow ought to be a camel in a place like this, and able to drink enough to last him a week. Go on, sir; I feel as if it’s trickling into all kinds of little holes and corners that had got dried-up. Think it goes into your veins, because I’m getting cosy now, right to the tips of my toes, where I was all hard and dry.”

“I’ve had enough now, Ned,” said Jack with a sigh, as if he were sorry to make the announcement.

“Don’t say that, sir. We’ve got no bottles, so we must take what we want inside. Have another drink, sir, so as to get yourself well soaked, then you’ll be able to stand a lot. I didn’t like to howl about it, so as to put you out of heart when you were as bad as me; but my mouth was all furred inside like a tea-kettle, and as for my throat, it was just as if it was growing up, and all hard and dry.”

“That was just as I felt, Ned.”

“I thought so, sir. Hah!” with a loud smack of the lips. “I’ve tasted almost every kind of wine, sir, from ginger up to champagne, and I’ve drunk tea and coffee, and beer, and curds and whey, thin gruel, and cider, and perry, but the whole lot ain’t worth a snap compared to a drink of water like this; only,” he added with a laugh, “you want to be thirsty as we were first. Done, sir?”

“Yes, quite, Ned.”

“Then I tell you what, Mr Jack, sir; we’ll try and hunt out a snug place somewhere close handy and have a good sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy, Ned. I want to get back and end my father’s terrible suspense.”

“So do I, sir; but I put it to you—can we do anything in the dark to-night?”

“No. There is only the satisfaction of trying.”

“Yes, sir; but you have to pay a lot for it. Say we try for home now—that’s all we can do,—shan’t we be less fit to-morrow?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Very well then, sir; it’s a lovely night, let’s have a good sleep. Then as soon as it’s light we’ll set to work and eat one of these sleeves of potatoes, come down here again, and take in water enough to last us for the day, or till we find some more, and try all we can to get down to the shore somehow or another. By this time to-morrow night, if I don’t find some way of showing that a white man can manage to live where a black can, my name’s not what it is.”

It was rough work searching for a resting-place, and the best they could find was upon some rough, shrubby growth, not unlike heather, in a recess among several mighty blocks of stone. But if it had been a spring bed, with the finest of linen, they could not have slept better, or awoke more refreshed, when the forest was being made melodious by the songs of birds. The mountain top was beginning to glow, and just below there came the soft tinkling splash of the falling water.

“Morning, sir,” cried Ned, springing up. “Your shower-bath’s waiting, sir. Come along, sir. Do us no end of good to have a dip. We shall take in a lot of water that way, and get rid of the dust that choked us yesterday.”

Jack needed no farther invitation, and upon descending the sides of the stone river, there was the natural bath ready to send a thrill of strength through them, for the rivulet came down in a series of little falls each having its well-filled basin.

There was the drawback that there were no towels to use, and Jack said so.

“What, sir?” cried his man. “You don’t mean to say that you would have used a towel if you had had one!”

“Why, of course. Why not?”

“Been waste of so much water. Let it soak in gradual, sir. You’ll want every drop by and by. You wait till we get out in the sun. Just think of how we were yesterday.”

Ten minutes after they were seated beneath a tree, discussing their potatoes, eating away with a glorious appetite till about half of one sleeve-full had been demolished, when Jack cried, “Hold!”

“Why, you ain’t had enough yet, sir?”

“No, but we will keep these till by and by when we are hungry again.”

“But I’m hungry now, sir,” cried Ned; “and they’ll be so much easier to carry after we’ve eat ’em—we shall have got rid of the skins.”

“Never mind, don’t let’s be improvident.”

“But I’m pretty sure to spear or shoot a pig to-day for supper, sir.”

“Then the potatoes will come in all the more useful as we have no bread,” said Jack, smiling. “Let’s go now, and climb to that little basin, to have a good draught of water.”

“All right, sir; what you say’s best, but it’s hard work leaving those beautiful little ’taters. They make you feel as if you could go on browsing like all day long.”

But the rest were carefully tied up in the sleeve, a good hearty draught of the cool refreshing water taken, and they descended once more to the natural road.

“The breakfast makes one feel different, Ned. I am not nearly so low-spirited this morning.”

“Low-spirited, sir? Why, I could run and shout Hooray, I feel so well. Look at that arm, sir! Who’s going to feel mis’rable when he’s got his strength back like that. Ready, sir?”

“Ready? Yes,” cried Jack. “Now then, we must make up our minds to get back to the yacht to-day.”

“That’s it, sir; but if you see me run mad-like, and go off with my spear, you come and help me, for it means pig.”

They started once more, following the course of the lava-stream, with its steady ascent, and at every turn Jack looked back longingly, feeling as he did that they were going away, but knowing that the longest might prove in the end the shortest road. They kept on, waiting for the time when they found that the great flow of fiery molten stone had encountered an inequality which had made it divide into two streams, the further of which might lead them down to the sands somewhere far from the yacht.

But mid-day with its burning sun had come, and the intense heat compelled them to stop and rest beneath a clump of trees, which struck them both as being more dwarfed in appearance, though their growth was luxuriant and beautiful. The forest, too, had become more open, there were glades here and there, and it was possible, if they had been so disposed, to have left the stony road and threaded their way among the bushes.

“Why, if we are forced to keep on like this much longer, Ned, we shall reach the crater.”

“Well, why not do it, sir? Once up there we can look all over the island, and choose our way down straight to the yacht.”

“I should like to do it now we are so high,” said Jack; “but we must only think of getting back.”

“And getting our suppers, sir,” whispered Ned, as he pointed toward a rocky ridge high up above the lava-stream to the left, where seen against the sky-line, as they browsed on the herbage among the rocks, there was a group of about half-a-dozen goats, two of which were evidently kids, while one was a patriarch with enormous curved horns.

“Now, Mr Jack,” whispered Ned; “we had some practice with our bows and arrows yesterday; this time we must do it at any cost.”

“Yes, Ned,” whispered back the lad excitedly. “It may mean the strength to escape.”

The next minute, bow and arrow in one hand, spear in the other, they were carefully stalking the herd by creeping upward among the trees and blocks of tumbled-together volcanic stone, which gave them the opportunity of climbing up within easy shot unseen.

Chapter Thirty Five.

In spite of all.

They were too close to the goats to venture upon much whispering, and the decision was soon arrived at that they were to divide, and each make the best of his way up the ridge till there was an opportunity for a close easy shot; then without waiting that shot was to be sent whizzing from the bow, the probability being that as there was no report, the goats would not be much alarmed, and another chance might be afforded.

“Think we must have one this time, Mr Jack,” whispered Ned, and they started from behind the great block which now sheltered them, each taking his own side.

From that moment Jack had no eyes for his companion, his attention was centred upon the great father of the herd, to the left of which the two half-grown kids were browsing upon the tender young shoots of the bush-like growth.

It was nervous work, for every now and then the old goat raised his head on high to take a long careful look round, and when he did, Jack remained motionless where he had crawled. Directly he saw the tips of the horns lowered he began to creep again, taking advantage of every tree-trunk, stone, or bush, and always getting nearer, though still far too distant to risk a shot. His hands trembled and were wet with perspiration, and again and again he felt that he must be seen, and expected to hear the beating of the animals’ hoofs as they dashed off, but the great curved horns, sweeping back like those of an ibex, were still visible, and he crawled slowly on, forgetting all about Ned and his progress.

At last, after many minutes devoted to the struggle upward, he reached a spot sufficiently elevated to give him a view of the volcano whose crater rose above the ridge, and forming; a background for the big goat, which stood out plainly about forty yards away even now, and offering itself for a shot, easy enough with a rifle, but very doubtful with a bow and arrow. The lad was in a capital position, but unfortunately the slope beyond offered no cover, and to have moved from it meant to be seen at once, while, more unfortunately still, the two kids, which should have shown themselves nearer, were now completely hidden by a clump of dense growth twenty yards from where he lay.

“If I could only have got there,” thought Jack, “how easy it would be.” But to have moved would have been to send the whole herd careering away, and all he could do was to wait and see if the kids would at last come from behind the shrubs.