Highway Pirates Part 17

How long we remained thus in a state of hopeless inactivity I cannot tell. The hours of daylight seemed hardly less long and dragging than those of darkness. Woodley sat by the fire nursing his knees and sullenly chewing a splinter of wood. At last he roused himself and stood up.

"It's no good sitting here like this and not making a single bid for freedom!" he exclaimed. "A thought's just come into my head, and if you can't suggest anything better, why, I vote we try my plan."

"What is it?" I cried eagerly.

"Why, it's this," he answered. "We must at least try to get outside where folks can see us, and we can cry for help. Neither of us can swim, but here's wood, and rope to fasten it together. Why shouldn't we make a raft?"

The proposal was one exactly calculated to appeal to a boy's imagination; but when I cast my eyes over our stock of timber, the possibility of putting the project into actual execution seemed almost out of the question.

"There's never enough wood here for that!" I answered.

"There may not be sufficient to make a raft that would carry us both, but there ought to be enough to keep one of us afloat. Look here, sir," continued the man earnestly: "we've got to get out of this place somehow, and the sooner the better. If it means running risks, why, we shall have to run them. We're in peril of our lives as it is, standing here upon this rock. If it should come to blow really hard to-night, it would be good-bye to us before morning. My idea is this:--We must fasten enough of these logs together to make a raft big enough to carry me. That oar will serve as a paddle, or to shove off from the rocks, and so doing I ought, at all events, to be able to get outside into open water; and once out there I should be bound either to be seen or to drift ash.o.r.e somewhere where I could climb the rocks. Then, you may be sure, it won't be long before I bring a boat round to rescue you."

"O George," I exclaimed, "I don't think I can stand being left quite alone in this awful place! Besides, what if you are washed off into the sea? You can't swim."

"I must take my chance of that, sir, as you must of being left," was the answer. "I'd suggest your going, only I think I'm the stronger, and could hold on longer if, as is sure to be the case, the waves wash over the logs. Think, sir, what'll happen in the first gale, even if our food lasts, and then take your choice."

I glanced round at the dark walls of our prison, which, though now high and dry, had been worn smooth by the storms of ages; and the very thought of the mountainous seas forcing their way in irresistible fury through the entrance of the cavern made me shudder. Take a bottle three parts full of water, I thought, and shake it violently from side to side, and that, on an infinitely larger scale, might be taken to represent what the interior of this cave would be like in a winter storm.

"Very well," I answered desperately. "If that's your plan, let's carry it out; I know of none better."

He turned at once, and worked with feverish eagerness, as though we knew that the dreaded storm was then brewing. Every piece of wreckage of any size which still remained within reach we fished out of the water and added to our store. The next business was to collect and untangle the rope and cord, and this took us far longer than we expected. The sodden knots wore the skin off the ends of our fingers, and made the job all the more laborious and painful. It was late in the afternoon before this portion of our task was accomplished. Then came selecting the most suitable pieces of timber, and planning how they should be arranged and joined together. All this while we kept glancing anxiously towards the entrance of the cave, still hoping against hope that some of the convicts might have escaped a watery grave, and either by capture or giving themselves up have made known our whereabouts to the good folks of Rockymouth. No help arrived, however, and it became more and more evident that none was to be expected. The patch of sea grew gray and misty as the second day of our captivity drew towards its close.

Kneeling in the quickly-gathering darkness of the cavern, George completed the first lashing of the logs; then gathering up all the remainder of the rope, that we might not entangle our feet, he stowed it away high up on the rocky ledge which had served as a shelf for our provisions.

All day we had hardly thought of food--a bite of cheese while we worked having proved sufficient; but now, though wearied with our labour, we set to work to pluck and cook the second pheasant--an operation which, as we sat in the darkness with no means of telling how time was pa.s.sing, seemed to last far into the night. With most of our wood gone to form the raft, we had to be chary of our fuel. The bird was only half cooked, and I had little inclination for eating; but we forced ourselves to swallow something, for on George's strength keeping up, if not on mine, our last chance of rescue depended.

My cold was worse, and I felt utterly miserable as I sat crouching by the glowing embers, the warmth from which was not sufficient to temper the bitter breeze from the sea, which swept through the cavern as through a draughty tunnel.

"George," I said, "it would be awful to die here alone in the dark, and no one ever to know what had become of us. Are you sure that raft will carry you safely?"

"Oh, bless you, Master Eden, don't talk about dying," answered the man; "that's not the way the true Briton looks at things. 'Never say die'

is his motto. There's many poor fellows been in worse plights than we are, and not thrown up the sponge. Bless you, sir, I shall help to carry you to and from school many a time yet, I hope. 'Woodley,'

you'll say, 'this is better than the two nights we spent in that cave!'

'You're right, sir,' I shall answer; and then all the other outsides'll want to hear the story. Ho, ho! my eye! but I doubt if they'll believe it's all true!"

He went on cheering me with his lively talk, though his teeth chattered with the cold. He had never seemed more gay when perched on the back seat of the old _Regulator_. Yet if I could have read his thoughts, I might have discovered that he more than half believed that this was to be his last night on earth; for though determined for my sake, as well as for the wife and child dependent on him, to attempt an escape from the cave by means of the raft, he did not doubt that the chances were very much against his ever reaching the sh.o.r.e. So, for the sake of the youngster at his side, he hid his fears and made light of the uncertain future. Such was George Woodley, and as such I like to remember him: on the highroad a mail-coach guard, in the presence of death a very gallant gentleman.

The day had been tiring as well as anxious, and in spite of cold and discomforts my heavy eyelids began at length to droop and my head to nod, until before long my troubles were swallowed up in blissful forgetfulness.

I must have slept some hours, totally unconscious of what was going on around me. I have a distinct recollection that I was dreaming of making a journey by coach as an inside pa.s.senger. Mile by mile we went rumbling on; it was windy, for the blast came in gusts through the open windows, and roared in the tops of the wayside trees. We stopped to change horses, and as I looked out an hostler lifted a pail of water and, with a shout, flung it in my face!

I awoke gasping and choking. The water and the shout had been no dream, nor, for that matter, the unceasing sound which had seemed to me the noise of the wind and the lumbering vehicle. The next instant my arm was seized and shaken by Woodley.

"Rouse up, Master Eden!" he cried; "rouse up, sir! There's a storm coming on, and the sea is splashing over the rock!"

CHAPTER XV.

IN DESPERATE STRAITS.

Dazed by the sudden alarm, I lay for a moment hardly knowing where I was; then another lash of icy cold water across my face brought me to my senses, and I sprang to my feet.

Never shall I forget those terrible moments as we stood in pitchy darkness, relieved only by the faint, uncanny, phosph.o.r.escent light of the sea-water. The thudding boom of a big wave striking against the cliff and bursting in through the narrow archway, then the peculiar hollow sound the water made as it rushed along the cavern, and the fierce splash with which it expended its force against our platform--all are sounds which seem to echo in my ears even now as I write.

"The wind's come at last!" shouted George, and added something further which I could not catch.

"We're safe here," I answered at the top of my voice.

"I've no idea what the time is," he replied; "but I don't believe it's high water yet--the tide's still rising."

For just a few moments I think even brave George Woodley was panic-stricken at our hazardous situation, and his words added a fresh terror to the darkness. If the tide was still flowing, then it was only a matter of waiting till we should be washed away and drowned.

There was apparently nothing to be done but to take up our position as far back as the width of our platform would allow, and so remain till our fate was decided.

The air was full of a fine drenching mist, but as yet only the broken spray from the waves had reached us. Trembling with cold and terror I stood, hoping against hope that the tide had reached its height or begun to ebb; then suddenly a larger sea than had hitherto entered the cavern swept clean over our place of refuge, the rushing surf whirling and hissing round our feet like a thousand serpents. The water had not taken us much above the ankles, but in that awful darkness I imagined for a moment that the end had already come, and clung to George with a cry of alarm.

"We must climb higher, Master Eden," yelled Woodley, his words, though shouted in my ear, almost drowned in the rush of the back-wash. "We must climb the rock; there's a ledge above us, if we can only get to it."

The words had hardly been uttered when, as though to enforce the necessity of his suggestion, another deluge of foaming surf swept over the rock, and I heard a clattering, b.u.mping noise, the woeful significance of which I did not realize at the moment. Groping with our hands over the surface of the cold, slippery stone, and yelling directions to each other, though our heads were not two feet apart, we climbed precariously from one foothold to another till we reached a ledge some five or six feet above the level on which we had hitherto been standing. This was as far as we could get, for above us the end wall of the cave rose precipitously, as though the rock had been hewn to stand the test of line and plummet.

Weary, wet, and chilled to the bone, in such a miserable condition I think I would hardly have troubled to avoid a speedy ending to all my misfortunes if death had presented itself in a less terrible form. But the fearful churning of that wild water was sufficiently appalling to cause one to cling with frenzied earnestness to any position of safety; for to be drawn down into that raging tumult was as dreadful to contemplate as being flung bodily into some enormous piece of whirling machinery, to be ground and dashed out of all human shape by a force as pitiless as it was overwhelming.

Higher and higher rose the tide. Now our platform was completely awash, and the seas, dashing against the end of the cavern, leaped up like hungry wolves, and soaked afresh our already sodden clothes with icy water. Thrown back in echoes from the arched roof of the cave, the noise of the sea was probably magnified tenfold, and in the darkness was terrifying to hear, while the compressed air rushed through the opening above us with a long, whistling sigh. The wonder seems to me that the pair of us did not lose our reason. Happily for us, in those days folks were evidently made of tougher material, both as regards muscle and nerve, else I could hardly have survived the exposure of that night, let alone its long agony of suspense. As it was, I had come about to the end of my tether; and had it not been for Woodley, I should never have survived to write the present story. There came a boom louder than we had heard before. I seemed to feel that mighty ma.s.s of broken water sweeping towards us through the gloom. Then with a crash it burst over the lower ledge, and rose level with our armpits.

I felt my numbed fingers relaxing their hold, and with a wild, despairing cry was slipping from my place, when Woodley seized me with one arm round the waist as the water subsided with a deafening roar.

That sea, I believe, was the largest which swept through the cave, and shortly after this the tide must have commenced to ebb; but of what happened next I had positively no remembrance, nor, strange to say, had George. Whether he held on to me after I lost consciousness, or whether we both continued to cling with a blind instinct of self-preservation to our ledge when our overtaxed brains had become oblivious to our surroundings, I cannot tell. How we maintained our foothold through the succeeding hours of darkness is a mystery. The next recollection I have is of finding myself lying on my side on the platform, staring blankly at the tossing surf as it rushed through the distant arch of rock in the gray light of morning.

The sea was rough, and a strong wind was blowing; but terrible as it had seemed at high water and in the darkness of night, it could not have been more than what seamen term half a gale, or we must certainly have been swept away and drowned.

I was so numbed that it was with great difficulty I could move my stiffened limbs and stagger to my feet; and when George spoke to me I discovered that I was nearly deaf--a result probably due to aggravation of the cold from which I had previously been suffering. What sort of an object I myself presented I have no means of telling, but when I looked at George I was shocked at his woebegone appearance. His face was haggard and pinched with cold, and something of that long night of terror seemed to remain in the wild glitter of his eyes. His cap was lost, and his sodden and dishevelled clothing hung about him like rags.

Becoming aware of the fact that I was looking at him, he pointed, mutely with his finger. I saw in a moment what he meant; and if it had been possible for hope and courage to sink lower in my breast, they would surely have done so then. The sea had made a clean sweep of the rocky platform, and the raft was gone!

Save one piece of splintered board, which the waves had wedged into a fissure of the rock, not a fragment of wood remained in our possession; and not only had the wreckage been washed away from the spot where we had stored it, but the retreating tide, and some change in the currents, seemed to have carried it once more out to sea. I had reached a condition of despair and misery far beyond that which can find relief in tears; I could only stare in a dull, stupefied fashion at the empty s.p.a.ce of cold, wet rock.

Woodley said something, but I could not catch his words.

"Speak louder," I answered, in a voice as hoa.r.s.e as a crow's. "I can't hear; I believe I'm going deaf."

"All the timber's gone--every inch," cried George, coming nearer.

"I've been having a look round, and there's nothing left but a lump of cheese and a bundle of rope what's up there in the 'cupboard.' I'm afraid we've played our last card, Master Eden."

I knew what he meant. If the sea continued rough, as there was every probability of its doing, we should never be able to hold out a second time when the tide rose and once more flooded our refuge. The misery and mental anguish through which we had pa.s.sed had, I think, gone far to rob us both of the fear of death; but the form in which it appeared was terrible to contemplate, and the longing for life still throbbed fiercely in our b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I said nothing; but feeling the water squelching in my boots, I emptied them, and then began stamping my icy feet in order to restore the circulation. Was there no hope? Must we remain like condemned criminals watching the angry water slowly rising till it claimed its prey? Of escape there seemed no possible chance, but in the anguish of our desolate condition I prayed fervently to G.o.d for fort.i.tude and consolation to support us in our last hours.

Making cups of our hands, we drank from the trickling water as we ate our cheese. We had little to say to each other; even George seemed to have abandoned hope, and to be nerving himself up, that when the time came he might make a brave ending and encourage me to do the same.