IX
"LASSIE, LASSIE. . ."
Two or three days later occurred a painful episode. The smallunsuspected germ of it had lain ambushed in a discourse of Mr.Shaw's, delivered shortly after our arrival on the island, on themultifarious uses of the cocoa-palm. He told how the juice fromthe unexpanded flower-spathes is drawn off to form a potent toddy,so that where every prospect pleases man may still be vile.Cookie, experimentally disposed, set to work. Mr. Vane, alsoexperimentally, sampled the results of Cookie's efforts. Theliquor had merely been allowed to ferment, whereas a complicatedprocess is necessary for the manufacture of the true arrack, butenough had been achieved to bring about dire consequences forCuthbert Vane, who had found the liquid cool and refreshing, andwas skeptical about its potency.
Aunt Jane took the matter very hard, and rebuked the ribald mirthof Mr. Tubbs. He had to shed tears over a devastating poem called"The Drunkard's Home," before she would forgive him. Cookie madehis peace by engaging to vote the prohibition ticket at the nextelection. My own excuses for the unfortunate were taken in veryill part. My aunt said she had always understood that life in thetropics was very relaxing to the moral fiber, and mine wascertainly affected--and besides she wasn't certain that barons worecoronets anyhow.
Mr. Shaw was disturbed over Cuthbert, who was not at all bad, onlyqueer and sleepy, and had to be led away to slumber in retirement.Also, it was an exceptionally low tide and Mr. Shaw had counted ontaking advantage of it to work in the cave. Now Cuthbert was laidup--
"You and I will have to manage by ourselves, Magnus."
"Nothing doing--boat got to be patched up--go out there without itand get caught!" growled the captain.
"Well, lend a hand, then. We can be ready with the boat inside anhour."
The captain hesitated queerly. His wandering eyes seemed to besearching in every quarter for something they did not find. Atlast he mumbled that he thought he felt a touch of the sun, and haddecided to lay off for the afternoon and make his way across theisland. He said he wanted to shoot water-fowl and that they hadall been frightened away from the cove, but that with the glass hehad seen them from Lookout thickly about the other bay.
"Very well," said the Scotchman coldly. "I suppose you must suityourself. I can get the boat in shape without help, I dare say."I saw him presently looking in an annoyed and puzzled fashion afterthe vanishing figure of the sailor.
Mr. Tubbs and the umbrellas soon disappeared into the woods. Ibelieve the search for Bill Halliwell's tombstone was no longervery actively pursued, and that the trio spent their time ensconcedin a snug little nook with hammocks and cushions, where Mr. Tubbsbeguiled the time with reading aloud--Aunt Jane and Violet bothbeing provided with literature--and relating anecdotes of his riseto greatness in the financial centers of the country. I more thansuspected Mr. Tubbs of feeling that such a bird in the hand as AuntJane was worth many doubloons in the bush. But in spite ofuneasiness about the future, for the present I rested secure in thecertainty that they could not elope from the island, and that therewas no one on it with authority to metamorphose Aunt Jane into Mrs.Hamilton H. Tubbs.
The waters of the cove had receded until a fringe of rocks underthe high land of the point, usually covered, had been left bare. Ihad watched the emergence of their black jagged surfaces for sometime before it occurred to me that they offered a means of accessto the cave. The cave--place of fascination and mystery! Here wasthe opportunity of all others to explore it, unhampered by any one,just Crusoe and I alone, in the fashion that left me freest toindulge my dreams.
I waited until the Scotchman's back was safely turned, because ifhe saw me setting forth on this excursion he was quite certain tocommand me to return, and I had no intention of submitting to hisdictatorial ways and yet was not sure how I was successfully todefy him. I believed him capable of haling me lack by force, whiletears or even swoons left him unmoved. Of course he would take theabsurd ground that the cave was dangerous, in the face of theglaring fact that a girl who had come to this island solely toprotect Aunt Jane ought certainly to be able to protect herself.Besides, what right had he to care if I was drowned, anyhow?
But of course I was not going to be.
The retreating tide had left deep pools behind, each a littlecosmos of fairy seaweeds and tiny scuttling crabs and rich andwonderful forms of life which were strange to me. Crusoe and Iwere very much interested, and lingered a good deal on the way.But at last we reached the great archway, and passed with asuddenness which was like a plunge into cool water from the hotglare of the tropic sunshine into the green shadow of the cavern.
At the lower end, between the two arches, a black, water-worn rockpaving rang under one's feet. Further in under the point the floorof the cave was covered with white sand. All the great shadowyplace was murmuring like a vast sea-shell. Beyond the southernarchway spread the limitless heaving plain of the Pacific. Near athand bare black rocks rose from the surges, like skeletons of theland that the sea had devoured. And after a while these walls thatsupported the cavern roof would be nibbled away, and the roof wouldfall, and the waves roar victorious over the ruins.
I wished I could visit the place in darkness. It would be thriceas mysterious, filled with its hollow whispering echoes, as in theday. I dreamed of it as it might have been when a boat from the_Bonny Lass_ crept in, and the faint winking eye of a lanternstruck a gleam from the dark waters and showed nothing all aroundbut blackness, and more blackness.
From the ledge far above my head led off those narrow, teasingcrevices in which the three explorers did their unrewardedburrowing. I could see the strands of a rope ladder lying coiledat the edge of the shelf, where it was secured by spikes. The mendragged down the ladder with a boat-hook when they wanted toascend. I looked about with a hope that perhaps they had left theboat-hook somewhere.
I found no boat-hook but instead a spade, which had been drivendeep into the sand and left, too firmly imbedded for the tide tobear away. At once a burning hope that I, alone and unassisted,might bring to light the treasure of the Bonny Lass seethed in myveins. I jerked the spade loose and fell to.
I now discovered the great truth that digging for treasure is themost thrilling and absorbing occupation known to man. Time ceasedto be, and the weight of the damp and close-packed sand seemed,that of feathers. This temporary state of exaltation passed, to besure, and the sand got very heavy, and my back ached, but still Idug. Crusoe watched proceedings interestedly at first, thenwandered off on business of his own. Presently he returned andbegan to fuss about and bark. He was a restless little beast,wanting to be always on the move. He came and tugged at my skirt,uttering an uneasy whine.
"Be quiet, Crusoe!" I commanded, threatening him with my spade.The madness of the treasure-lust possessed me. I was panting now,and my hands began to feel like baseball mitts, but still I dug.Crusoe had ceased to importune me; vaguely I was aware that he hadgot tired and run off. I toiled on, pausing now and then forbreath. I was leaning on my spade, rather dejectedly consideringthe modest excavation I had achieved, when I felt a little coolsplash at my feet. Dropping my spade I whirled around--and ashriek echoed through the cave as I saw pouring into it the darkinsidious torrent of the returning tide.
How had I forgotten it, that deadly thing, muttering to itself outthere, ready to spring back like an unleashed beast? Crusoe hadwarned me--and then he had forsaken me, and I was alone.
And yet at first, wild as my terror was, I had no thought but thatsomehow I could escape. That these waters were for me the veryface of death, sure and relentless, terrible and slow, did not atonce seize hold upon my heart.
Frantically I sprang for the entrance on the cove. The floor ofthe cave was sloping, and the water deepened swiftly as I advanced.Soon I was floundering to my knees, and on the instant a great waverushed in, drenching me to the waist, dazing me with its spray anduproar, and driving me back to the far end of the cave.
With a dreadful hollow sucking sou
nd the surge retreated. Istaggered again toward the archway that was my only door to life.The water was deeper now, and swiftly came another fierce inrush ofthe sea that drove me back. Between the two archways a terriblecurrent was setting. It poured along with the rush of a mountainriver, wild, dark, tumultuous.
I had fled to the far end of the cave, but the sea pursued me.Swiftly the water climbed--it flung me against the wall, thendragged me back. I clutched at the naked rock with bleedingfingers.
Again, after a paroxysm during which I had seemed to stand a greatway off and listen to my own shrieks, there came to me a moment ofcalm. I knew that my one tenuous thread of hope lay in launchingmyself into that wild flood that was tearing through into the cove.I was not a strong swimmer, but a buoyant one. I might find refugeon some half-submerged rock on the shores of the cove--at least Ishould perish in the open, in the sunlight, not trapped like adesperate rat. And I began to fight my way toward the opening.
And then a dreadful vision flashed across my mind, weighed down myfeet like lead, choked back even the cry from my frozen lips.Sharks! The black cutting fin, the livid belly, the dreadful jawsopening--no, no, better to die here, better the clean embrace ofthe waters--_if indeed the sharks did not come into the cave_.
And then I think I went quite mad. I remember trying to climb upto the ledge which hung beetling fifteen feet above. Afterward mypoor hands showed how desperately. And I remember that once Islipped and went clear under, and how I choked and strangled in thesalt water. For my mouth was always open, screaming, screamingcontinually.
And when I saw the boat fighting its way inch by inch into the caveI was sure that it was a vision, and that only my own wildbeseeching of him to save me had made the face of Dugald Shaw arisebefore my dying eyes. Dugald Shaw was still mending the boat onthe shore of the cove, and this was a mocking phantom.
Only the warm human clasp of the arms that drew me into the boatmade me believe in him.
The boat bobbed quietly in the eddy at the far end of the cave,while a wet, sobbing, choking heap clung to Dugald Shaw. I claspedhim about the neck and would not let him go, for fear that I shouldfind myself alone again, perishing in the dark water. My head wason his breast, and he was pressing back my wet hair with strong andtender hands.
What was this he was saying? "My lassie, my little, little lassie!"
And no less incredible than this it was to feel his cheek pressed,very gently, against my hair--
After a little my self-control came back to me. I stopped mysenseless childish crying, lifted my head and tried to speak. Icould only whisper, "You came, you came!"
"Of course I came!" he said huskily. "There, don't tremble so--youare safe--safe in my arms!"
After a while he lifted me into the stern and began to maneuver theboat out of the cave. I suppose at another time I should haverealized the peril of it. The fierce flow through the archway allbut swamped us, the current threatened to hurl us against therocks, but I felt no fear. He had come to save me, and he would.All at once the dreadful shadow of the cavern was left behind, andthe sunshine immersed my chilled body like a draught of wine. Ilay huddled in the stern, my cheek upon my hand, as he rowedswiftly across the cove and drove the boat upon the beach.
Everybody but Captain Magnus was assembled there, including Crusoe.Crusoe it was who had given warning of my danger. Like a wiselittle dog, when I ignored his admonitions he had run home. Atfirst his uneasiness and troubled barking had got no notice. Onceor twice the Scotchman, worried by his fretfulness, had ordered himaway. Then across his preoccupied mind there flashed a doubt. Helaid down his tools and spoke to the animal. Instantly Crusoedashed for the rocks, barking and crying with eagerness. But thepath was closed, the tide was hurrying in, and Crusoe whinedpitiably as he crept back and crouched against the man who ofcourse knew better than a little dog what must be done.
Then Mr. Shaw understood. He snatched the painter of the boat anddragged it down the beach. He was shoving off as Cookie, roused byCrusoe's barking, appeared from the seclusion of his afternoonsiesta. To him were borne the Scotchman's parting words:
"Virginia Harding--in the cave--hot blankets--may be drowning--"
"And at dat," said Cookie, relating his part in the near-tragedywith unction, "I jes' natchully plumped right down on mah ma'ahbones and wrestled with de Lawd in prayah."
This unique proceeding on Cookie's part necessarily awoke theinterest both of the recovered Cuthbert Vane, just emerging afterhis prolonged slumbers, and of the trio who had that momentreturned from the woods. Importuned for an explanation, Cookiearose from his devotional posture and put the portentous query:
"Mistah Vane, sah, be dey any propah coffin-wood on dis yereisland?"
Instantly connecting my absence with this terrible question, AuntJane shrieked and fell into the arms of Mr. Tubbs. I got the storyfrom Cuthbert Vane, and I must say I was unpleasantly struck by thefacility with which my aunt seemed to have fallen into Mr. Tubbs'sembrace--as if with the ease of habit. Mr. Tubbs, it appeared, hadstaggered a little under his fair burden, which was not to bewondered at, for Aunt Jane is of an overflowing style of figure andMr. Tubbs more remarkable for brain than brawn. Violet, however,had remained admirably calm, and exhorted Aunt Jane to rememberthat whatever happened it was all for the best.
"Poor Violet," I commented. "To think that after all it didn'thappen!"
A slow flush rose to the cheeks of the beautiful youth. Hewas sitting beside the hammock, where I was supposed to berecuperating. Of course it was to please Aunt Jane that I had tobe an invalid, and she had insisted on mounting guard and readingaloud from one of Miss Browne's books about Psycho-evolution orsomething until Cuthbert Vane came along and relieved her--and me.
"It would have happened, though," said the Honorable Cuthbertsolemnly, "if it hadn't been for old Shaw. I can't get over it,Vir--Miss Virginia, that I wasn't on deck myself, you know. Here'sold Dugald been doing the heroic all his life, and now he gets hischance again while I'm sleeping off those bally cocoanuts. It'shard on a chap. I--I wish it had been me."
However dubious his grammar, there was no mistaking the look thatbrightened like the dawn in the depths of his clear eyes. Mybreath went from me suddenly.
"Oh," I cried excitedly, "isn't that---yes, I _thought_ it was thedinner gong!"
For as if in response to my dire need, the clang of Cookie's gongechoed through the island silences.
Spanish Doubloons Page 9
