The Secret of Sarek Part 35

On returning to the light, she saw that he was very pale and felt his hand in hers like a lump of ice. Nevertheless he looked up at her with a smile of happiness.

They set out again; and soon, after pa.s.sing the strip of cliff that joined the two islands and climbing the staircases, they emerged in the open air, to the right of Maguennoc's garden. The daylight was beginning to wane.

"We are saved," said Veronique.

"Yes," replied the boy, "but only on condition that they cannot reach us by the same road. We shall have to bar it, therefore."

"How?"

"Wait for me here; I'll go and fetch some tools at the Priory."

"Oh, don't let us leave each other, Francois!"

"You can come with me, mother."

"And suppose the enemy arrives in the meantime? No, we must defend this outlet."

"Then help me, mother."

A rapid inspection showed them that one of the two stones which formed a roof above the entrance was not very firmly rooted in its place. They found no difficulty in first shifting and then clearing it. The stone fell across the staircase and was at once covered by an avalanche of earth and pebbles which made the pa.s.sage, if not impracticable, at least very hard to manage.

"All the more so," said Francois, "as we shall stay here until we are able to carry out my plan. And be easy, mother; it's a sound scheme and we have nearly managed it."

For that matter, they recognized above all, that rest was essential.

They were both of them worn out.

"Lie down, mother . . . look, just here: there's a bed of moss under this overhanging rock which makes a regular nest. You'll be as cosy as a queen there and sheltered from the cold."

"Oh, my darling, my darling!" murmured Veronique, overcome with happiness.

It was now the time for explanations; and Veronique did not hesitate to give them. The boy's grief at hearing of the death of all those whom he had known would be mitigated by the great joy which he felt at recovering his mother. She therefore spoke without reserve, cradling him in her lap, wiping away his tears, feeling plainly that she was enough to make up for all the lost affections and friendships. He was particularly afflicted by Stephane's death.

"But is it quite certain?" he asked. "For, after all, there is nothing to tell us that he is drowned. Stephane is a perfect swimmer; and so . . . Yes, yes, mother, we must not despair . . . on the contrary . . . . Look, here's a friend who always comes at the worst times, to declare that everything is not lost."

All's Well came trotting along. The sight of his master did not appear to surprise him. Nothing unduly surprised All's Well. Events, to his mind, always followed one another in a natural order which did not disturb either his habits or his occupations. Tears alone seemed to him worthy of special attention. And Veronique and Francois were not crying.

"You see, mother? All's Well agrees with me; nothing is lost . . . .

But, upon my word, All's Well, you're a sharp little fellow! What would you have said, eh, if we'd left the island without you?"

Veronique looked at her son:

"Left the island?"

"Certainly: and the sooner the better. That's my plan. What do you say to it?"

"But how are we to get away?"

"In a boat."

"Is there one here?"

"Yes, mine."

"Where?"

"Close by, at Sarek Point."

"But how are we to get down? The cliff is perpendicular."

"She's at the very place where the cliff is steepest, a place known as the Postern. The name puzzled Stephane and myself. A postern suggests an entrance, a gate. Well, we ended by learning that, in the middle ages, at the time of the monks, the little isle on which the Priory stands was surrounded by ramparts. It was therefore to be presumed that there was a postern here which commanded an outlet on the sea. And in fact, after hunting about with Maguennoc, we discovered, on the flat top of the cliff, a sort of gully, a sandy depression reinforced at intervals by regular walls made of big building-stones. A path winds down the middle, with steps and windows on the side of the sea, and leads to a little bay. That is the Postern outlet. We repaired it: and my boat is hanging at the foot of the cliff."

Veronique's features underwent a transformation:

"Then we're safe now!"

"There's no doubt of that."

"And the enemy can't get there?"

"How could he?"

"He has the motor-boat at his disposal."

"He has never been there, because he doesn't know of the bay nor of the way down to it either: you can't see them from the open sea. Besides, they are protected by a thousand sharp-pointed rocks."

"And what's to prevent us from leaving at once?"

"The darkness, mother. I'm a good mariner and accustomed to navigate all the channels that lead away from Sarek, but I should not be at all sure of not striking some reef or other. No, we must wait for daylight."

"It seems so long!"

"A few hours' patience, mother. And we are together, you and I! At break of dawn, we'll take the boat and begin by hugging the foot of the cliff till we are underneath the cells. Then we'll pick up Stephane, who of course will be waiting for us on some strip of beach, and we'll all be off, won't we, All's Well? We'll land at Pont-l'Abbe at twelve o'clock or so. That's my plan."

Veronique could not contain her delight and admiration. She was astonished to find so young a boy giving proofs of such self-possession.

"It's splendid, darling, and you're right in everything. Luck is decidedly coming our way."

The evening pa.s.sed without incidents. An alarm, however, a noise under the rubbish which blocked the underground pa.s.sage and a ray of light trickling through a slit obliged them to mount guard until the minute of their departure. But it did not affect their spirits.

"Why, of course I'm easy in my mind," said Francois. "From the moment when I found you again, I felt that it was for good. Besides, if the worst came to the worst, have we not a last hope left? Stephane spoke to you about it, I expect. And it makes you laugh, my confidence in a rescuer whom I have never seen . . . . Well, I tell you, mother, if I were to see a dagger about to strike me, I should be certain, absolutely certain, mind you, that a hand would come and ward off the blow."

"Alas," she said, "that providential hand did not prevent all the misfortunes of which I told you!"

"It will keep off those which threaten my mother," declared the boy.

"How? This unknown friend has not been warned."

"He will come all the same. He doesn't need to be warned to know how great the danger is. He will come. And, mother, promise me one thing: whatever happens, you must have confidence."