Cormorant Crag Part 17

Half-way up they saw a couple of those fast disappearing birds, the red-legged choughs, and startled a few jackdaws, which went off shouting at them, Mike said; and then the top was won, and they had a long survey of the cove from another point of view.

But there was nothing fresh to see; all beneath them was entirely hid from view, and though they looked again and again as they continued their course along the ridge their patience and toil were not rewarded, for, save that they were from different standpoints, the views they obtained of the rocks and rushing waters were the same.

They continued along the ridge by slow climbing for a considerable distance, and then as if moved by the same spirit they stopped and looked at each other.

"I say," said Mike, "it don't seem any good to go any farther."

"No," was the reply, given in a very decisive tone. "The only way to see that place down below is to get there in a boat."

"And old Joe Daygo says it's not right to go, and we should never get back; so we shall never see it."

"I don't believe that," said Vince shortly.

"Well, I don't want to, but it seems as if he's right, and the more one looks the more one believes in him."

"I don't," said Vince. "The more I look the more I seem to want to go and have a thorough good search, and I can't help thinking he knows why."

"Shall we try him again?"

Vince thoughtfully shook his head, as he gazed down once more from between two pieces of granite that the storms of centuries had carved till they seemed to have been set upon edge.

"Might offer him some money."

"I don't believe he'd like it, and you know Jemmy Carnach once said that, though he always dressed so shabbily and never spent anything, he always was well off."

"Well, then, what are we to do? I want to see the place worse than ever. It looks so tempting, and as if there's no knowing what we might find."

"I don't think we should find anything about it but that it would be a good place for fishing. It must be if no one ever goes there. Why, Ladle, all the holes among the rocks must swarm with lobsters, and the congers must be as big as serpents."

Mike nodded.

"But how are we to get there to fish for them?"

"Don't know, unless we try it ourselves with a boat."

"Would you risk it?"

Vince did not answer for a few moments, but stood clinging to the rock, gazing down and searchingly examining the opening through which the tide poured.

"I'm not sure yet," he said; "but I begin to think I would. That narrow pa.s.sage would look wider when you were right in it, and the way to do it would be to come in when the tide was high,--there wouldn't be so much rushing and tumbling about of the water then; and the way to get out again would be at high water too."

"But that would mean staying till the tide had gone down and come up again--hours and hours."

"Yes," said Vince, "that would be the way; but it would want ever so much thinking about first."

"Yes," replied Mike; "it would want ever so much thinking about first.

Ready to go back?"

"May as well," said Vince; and he stepped down, after a farewell look down at the sheltered cove, fully realising the fact that any one pa.s.sing it a short distance from the sh.o.r.e would take the barrier of rocks which shut it in for the continuation of the cliffs on either side; and as the place had a terrible reputation for dangerous reefs and currents, in addition to the superst.i.tious inventions of the people of the Crag, it seemed highly probable that it had never been approached unless by the unfortunate crew of some doomed vessel which had been battered to pieces and sunk unseen and unheard.

"Shall I go first?" said Vince.

"Yes: you lead."

"Mean to go along among the bushes at the bottom, or would you like to slope down at once?"

"Oh, we'll go back the way we said, only we shan't have done as much as we promised ourselves."

Vince started off down the slope, and upon reaching the trough-like depression at the bottom he began to work his way in and out among the fallen blocks, leaping the hollows wherever there was safe landing on the other side. At times he had to stop to extricate himself from the brambles, but on the whole he got along pretty well till their way was barred by a deeper rift than they had yet encountered, out of which the brambles and ferns grew luxuriantly.

The easier plan seemed to be to go round one end or the other; but it only appeared to be the simpler plan, for on trying to put it to the test it soon proved itself to be the harder, promising as it did a long, toilsome climb, whichever end they took.

"Jump it," said Mike: "there's a good landing-place on the other side."

"Yes, but if I don't reach it I shall get a nice scratching. Look at that blackthorn covered with brambles."

"Oh, never mind a few thorns," said Mike, grinning. "I'll pick them all out for you with a packing needle."

"Thankye," said Vince, eyeing the rift he had to clear: "you'll have enough to do to pick out your own thorns, for if I go down I'm sure you will. Stand aside and let's have a good start."

There was no running, for it was a standing jump from one rugged block to another a little lower; and after taking a good swing with both arms, the lad launched himself forward, drawing his feet well up, clearing the ma.s.s of tangled bushes below, and just reaching the other side with his toes.

An inch or two more would have been sufficient; as it was, he had not leaped quite far enough, for his boots grated and scratched down the side facing him, the bushes below checked him slightly, and he tried to save himself with his hands and clung to the rough block for a few moments. Then, to Mike's great amus.e.m.e.nt, he slipped suddenly lower, right in among the brambles which grew from out of a rift, and looked matted enough together to support him as he hung now by his hands.

"Scramble up, Cinder!" cried Mike. "You are a jumper!"

"Wait till you try it, my lad," was the reply; and then, "Must drop and climb out at the end."

As Vince spoke his hands glided from their hold, and he dropped out of sight among the bushes, and at the same moment, to Mike's horror, there was the rushing noise of falling stones, increasing to quite an avalanche, and sounding hollow, echoing, and strange, as if descending to a terrific depth.

Mike's heart seemed to stand still as he craned forward, gazing at the slight opening in the brambles which his companion had made; and as he listened intently he tried hard to speak, but his mouth felt dry, and not a word would come.

It was horrible. They had both imagined that they were about to leap over a hollow between some ma.s.ses of stone, probably two, perhaps three feet deep; but the bushes and brambles which had rooted in the sides had effectually masked what was evidently a deep chasm, penetrating to some unknown distance in the bowels of the earth.

What to do? Run for help, or try to get down?

Before Mike could decide, in his fear and excitement, which, he drew his breath heavily, with a gasp of relief, for a voice sounding hollow and strange came up through the bushes and ferns.

"Mike!"

"Yes. Hullo, are you hurt?"

"Bit scratched," came up.

"How far are you down? Tell me what to do. Shall I go for a rope?"

"Steady!" came up: "don't ask so much at once. Not down very far. I can see the light, and it's all of a slope here, but awful lower down.

Did you hear the stones go with a rush?"