Mother Carey's Chicken Part 68

Mark did not answer, and Billy went on:

"It's my belief that when the skipper shuts his eyes he sets his ears to work to see and hear too. Ah, here we are! Here's a place where we can go in. I say, Mr Mark, did you eat any o' that cold treacle pooden?"

"No? Bill, I did not."

"Good job, too, sir. It was cooked in one o' they hot springs, and I'm blest if it didn't taste like brimstone and treacle. Lor', how thirsty I am! Wish I could find one o' them wooden-box fruit."

"What? cocoa-nuts?"

"No, sir: durings. They are good after all. Give's your hand, my lad."

He bent down from a ma.s.s of basalt, which seemed to be the end of a rugged wall which penetrated the trees, and along which it was possible to climb more easily than to force a way through the dense growth which wove the trees together.

"I can manage, Billy," said Mark. "Go on."

Billy turned, and, apparently as active as if he had just started, he climbed on, parting the bushes that grew out of the interstices and holding them aside for Mark to clear them, and then on and on, without the sign of a fruit-tree or berry-bearing bush. The sun beat down through the overshadowing boughs, but the two had risen so high that the forest monarchs had become as it were dwarfed, and it was evident that they would soon be above them and able to look down on their tops.

"Why, Billy," exclaimed Mark, "if we go on, we shall soon be able to see the sea, and the best way down to the camp."

"Sure we shall, Mr Mark, sir," said the little sailor, descending a sudden slope and helping Mark to follow, after which they wound in and out for about a quarter of an hour, thoroughly eager in their quest for a way to simplify the descent of the rest of the party.

All at once the captain's final words came to memory, and Mark exclaimed:

"Here; we mustn't go any farther, Billy. We'll turn back now."

"All right! Mr Mark, sir, we'll soon do that; and then we can all come on this way together. We can show 'em now, eh?"

"Yes," said Mark; "but let's see, which way did we come? Along there, wasn't it?"

"'Long there, Mr Mark, sir? No, not it. Why, we come this way, down by these rocks."

"No, that couldn't be right, Billy, because the sun was on our left when we turned round, and you helped me down that rock."

"Was it, sir? Then it must be down here."

Billy led the way and Mark followed; but at the end of a few minutes he called a halt.

"No, no; this can't be right," he cried, as he gazed about a wilderness of huge rocks and trees, where bushes sprang up on every hand.

"Well, do you know, Mr Mark, sir, that's just what I was a-thinking,"

said Billy. "I've been a-puzzling my head over that there block o'

stone as is standing atop o' that tother one, and couldn't recollect seeing of 'em afore."

"No; it must be this way," said Mark uneasily. "How stupid, to be sure!

We must find our way back."

"Why, of course, Mr Mark, sir; and we will; but it aren't us as is stupid, it's these here rocks and trees as is all alike, just as if they was brothers and sisters, or peas in a pod."

"Don't talk so," said Mark angrily, as he realised more fully their position; and a sense of confusion made him petulant. "Let's act and find our way. Now, then, which way does the mud-stream lie?"

Billy scratched his head, stared about, and then said softly:

"Well, sir, I'll be blest if I know."

And Mark thoroughly realised the fact that they were lost.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

HOW MARK SOUGHT THE CLUE.

Were you ever lost? Most probably not; and hence you will hardly be able to realise the strange sensation of loneliness, helplessness, and despair which comes over the spirit as the traveller finds that he missed his way and is probably beyond the reach of help in some wilderness, where he knows that he may go on tramping wearily until he lies down and dies.

Mark Strong's case was not so bad, but he felt it painfully for many reasons. Among others there was the knowledge that he had utterly forgotten the injunction given to him to take care and not go too far; while another was the dread that though they had been nominally searching all day for the strange beast that had caused so much alarm, and seen nothing, now that he and his companion were helpless they might possibly stumble upon its cave.

"Oh, Billy, what have we been doing?" he cried impatiently.

"Well, Mr Mark, sir, I don't know as we've been doing o' hanything pertickler."

"But we've lost our way."

"Well, yes, sir, I s'pose we've lost that there; but it don't much matter--do it?"

"Matter!--of course!" cried Mark angrily; and, as if born by nature to lead, he at once took the command and gave his orders. "Now, you climb to the top of that rock and see if you can make out the course we ought to take; and I'll climb that one yonder."

"All right, Mr Mark, sir!" cried the little sailor, starting off.

"And mind, we come back to this spot directly."

"Right, sir! we will."

"Then, off!"

Mark slowly and painfully scaled the side of a steep sloped ravine, and when he reached the top, with the perspiration running down his cheeks, he looked round, to see trees, rocks, and the beautiful cone of the volcano.

That was something; and he reasoned that if he turned his back to the mountain and walked straight down and onward, though he would not be able to join his party he would reach the sh.o.r.e.

But no sooner had he arrived at this comforting a.s.surance that he would have nothing to fear from starvation than all his hopes were dashed to the ground, as he realised the fact that, as soon as he descended from the giddy height at which he stood, he would lose sight of the mountain and have no guide; while to go straight on among the mighty moss-covered rocks, which were pitched helter-skelter all over the place, was as impossible as to go through the jungle without a gang of men with bill-hooks to hack a way among the dense undergrowth.

Right, left, and before him he could see nothing that would suggest his having pa.s.sed along there; and with his heart sinking he slowly climbed down part of the way, then reached a mossy stone which gave way beneath his feet and fell, while he followed, slipping down twenty feet, rolling another twenty; dropping sometimes into a th.o.r.n.y tangle of brambles, and dragging himself out, tattered, bleeding, and terribly out of temper, to walk slowly back to the spot from whence he and Billy Widgeon had started.

"How thirsty I am!" he said to himself; and then he listened.

All was horribly silent, and he called in a startled way, to be answered by a faint "Ahoy!"

"This way, Billy!"

There was again silence as Mark threw himself wearily on a ma.s.s of ferns; but after a time the rustling of boughs and breaking of twigs could be heard, and at last from apparently a long way off came Billy's voice again: