“I prefer a doctor to an undertaker,” said Orissa, “but as neither profession is represented here I advise you to forego the pleasure of taking cold.”
“Right you are, Cap’n Columbus. No doctor, no cold. Banish the thought! We can’t afford the luxury of illness, can we? Oh, here’s the bluff.”
There it was, indeed; but absolutely unclimbable. It was sixty feet high, at least, and overhanging the sea like a shelf, the waves having cut it away at the base.
“Now, then,” said Orissa, after a careful inspection, “we must either go back or go on, in order to find a way up. As we haven’t passed any steps or easy inclines, I propose we advance farther and see what the west end looks like.”
“I’ll follow the leader; but the waves are already covering the beach,” asserted Sybil, with a grimace.
“Then let us wade; and don’t lose any precious time, for the tide will come in faster every minute. Shoes off, Crusoe!”
“Aye, aye, Columbus.”
With shoes, leggings and stockings in hand they began the advance, hugging the wall of rock and proceeding as swiftly as they could. At times one or the other would cry out as she stepped on a sharp bit of rock, but this was no time to shrink from petty trials and they bore up with admirable fortitude.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO GIRLS AND ONE ISLAND
PLODDING ALONG THE narrow ledge of beach and constantly soused by the waves, the girls began to fear, as afterward proved to be fact — that the bluff covered the entire west end of the island. The water beneath their feet grew deeper and the undertow stronger with every step they advanced, but fortunately for their safety they finally came to a crevasse that split the bluff in twain, and down this rift trickled a rill of pure water.
They both exclaimed with delight as they crept into the shelter of the crevasse. The fissure was not level, but extended upward at an acute angle, yet there was room enough at its mouth for the girls to creep above the wash of the waves. Examining the place carefully, Orissa thought they might be able to follow the rift up to the top of the bluff, and so at once they began the ascent. The two walls were so close together that they could touch both by extending their arms, and there was room, by stepping occasionally into the shallow brook, for them to climb from shelf to shelf without much difficulty. At the very top, however, they were brought to an abrupt halt. A waterfall leaped from the edge of the bluff, dropping a good ten feet to the point they had now reached, from whence there seemed no way of gaining the top.
Orissa and Sybil looked at each other and laughed, the spray from the waterfall wetting their cheeks, which were now rosy from exercise.
“Trapped, Cap’n!” cried Sybil, merrily. “What next?”
“We can’t go back, you know.”
“Not unless we prefer Davy Jones’s locker to this stronghold — which I, for one, don’t. Therefore, let’s eat.”
“That seems your resource in every emergency, Sybil.”
“Naturally. Feasting stimulates thought; thought develops wit; wit finds a way.”
Orissa raised herself to a seat upon a projecting crag and then, swinging her feet, proceeded to think while Sybil brought out the food.
“Could you climb a wire, Syb?”
“Not without years of practice. Have you positively decided to establish a circus in these wilds, Ris?”
Orissa stood upon the crag, examined the face of the rock and then drove the end of the bar she carried into a small fissure that was nearly on a level with her head. Sybil observed the horizontal bar and laughed gleefully.
“Have a sandwich, chummie, and curb your imaginations,” said she. “I catch your idea, but respectfully decline to accept the hazard.”
Orissa ate her sandwich and drank from the bottle of lemonade. Then she rinsed her fingers in the brook, dried them on her handkerchief and again mounted the crag.
“Listen, Crusoe: I’m going to make an attempt to break out of jail,” she said impressively. “If I can reach to the top I’ll find some way to get you up. As soon as I get my feet on that bar, you are to come up on this crag and hand me your lever. If I can find a pocket to stick that into, the deed is done.”
“Bravo, Ris! What a pity you haven’t any spangles on your skirt. If you fall, fall gradually, for I’ll be afraid to catch you.”
Orissa’s fingers clutched at the rough projections of rock and with some difficulty she gained a footing on the bar. Then, still clinging to the face of the rift, she made a further examination. There seemed a small hole at the right, about breast high, and she called for the lever. This Sybil promptly passed up. Orissa thrust in the lever and the next instant nearly lost her footing, for with a bewildering hoot a white owl of monstrous size fluttered out and tumbled almost at Sybil’s feet, who uttered a shriek like an Indian war whoop. The creature was blinded by the glare of day and went whirling down the incline of the crevasse until it was lost to sight.
“First sign of life,” called Sybil. “Don’t look so scared, Ris; there’s nothing more harmless than an owl.”
“Did you yell because I was scared?” inquired Orissa.
“No, I was reproving the owl, who has a voice like a steam calliope. It would take more than a blind bird to scare either of us; wouldn’t it, Cap’n?”
“I — I wish it hadn’t been so — so unexpected,” muttered Orissa, feeling her way up to the second projection. With her feet on the lever she found her head well above the edge of the precipice and the first glance showed her a good hold for her hands.
Orissa Kane was no skilled athlete, but her experience in Steve’s workshop, together with her aerial exercises and constant outdoor life, had given her well developed muscles which now stood her in good stead. She drew herself up, got her knee on the edge of the rock, and a moment later was on level ground at the top of the bluff. Then she leaned over and called to Sybil:
“Can you manage it?”
“What a question!” retorted Sybil, indignantly. “I stood below to catch you in case you slipped; but who is there to catch me, I beg to inquire?”
“The owl,” said Orissa. “Will you try it?”
“Is it worth while? Tell me what you’ve found up there.”
Orissa turned and examined the scene now spread before her.
“Better come up, Syb,” she said. “But wait a moment and I’ll help you.”
She attached one of the straps to the coil of steel wire and passed the end down to her chum.
“Buckle the strap around you — just under your arms,” she called. “I’ll hold fast the wire at this end. You can’t fall, then; but be careful, just the same.”
With this support Sybil gained confidence. Exercising extreme caution she followed Orissa’s example in scaling the cliff and as fast as she mounted, her companion took up the slack in the wire and kept it taut. As soon as Sybil stood on the upper bar Orissa grasped her arms and drew her up beside her in safety.
“There!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. It wasn’t such a difficult feat, after all.”
“There isn’t enough money in the world to hire me to do it again,” panted Sybil, trembling a little from the giddy experience.
“That may be true, but if our safety requires it we may repeat the performance more than once,” declared Orissa. “Unfortunately, we have lost our weapons of defense.”
“Can’t we recover the bars?”
“Not without going down for them. If you think you could lower me over the edge — ”
“I just couldn’t, Ris. Don’t mention it.”
“Very well; then we will proceed unarmed. Look, Sybil! Isn’t it a glorious prospect?”
“In point of comparison, yes,” admitted Sybil, speaking slowly as she gazed around her.
They were standing on a level table-land which lay between the base of the mountain and the sea. The “mountain” was really a great hill of rock, rising only a hundred and fifty feet or so from the table-land. The level sp
ace before them was clothed with a queer sort of verdure. It was not grass, but plants with broad and rather crinkly leaves, so tender that wherever the girls stepped the leaves were broken and crushed. Nor was the color an emerald green; it was rather a pale pea-green and the plants grew not in soil but sprang from tiny cracks and fissures in a sort of shale, or crushed slate, which was constantly kept moist by the seepage of the little stream.
The island here made an abrupt curve to the west and a little farther along the girls saw patches of bushes and several small groups of tall, tropical trees, resembling plantains, or palms. There were vines, too, which grew in rank profusion among the rocks and helped relieve the dismal landscape by their greenery. But nowhere appeared any earth, or natural soil; whatever grew, grew among the crushed rock, or shale, which seemed to possess a certain fertility where moisture reached it.
“This part of the island seems by far the best,” asserted Sybil. “Let us explore it thoroughly.”
They set out to skirt the edge of the bluff and on reaching the first group of trees found they were bananas. Several bunches of plump fruit hung far up among the branches, quite out of reach.
“We’ll find a way to get at them if we are detained here long enough to need them,” said Orissa.
A half mile beyond the place where they had so laboriously climbed the bluff they came upon a broad ravine which led directly down to the water’s edge. It appeared as if a huge mass of rock had at some time become detached from the mountain and, sliding downward, had cut away the bluff and hurled itself into the sea, where it now lay a few rods from the water’s edge and formed a sort of breakwater. The swirl of the waves around this mass of rock had made a small indentation in the shore, creating a tiny bay with a sandy beach.
“Ah,” said Orissa, examining this place, “here is where we must establish our camp; there is room enough to float our boat into the bay, where the water is calm, and on that smooth beach I can repair the Hy at my leisure.”
“Also, from this elevation,” added Sybil, “we can fly a flag of distress, which would be seen by any ship approaching the island.”
Orissa nodded approval.
“Here is also water and food,” said she. “If we can manage to navigate the Hy to this place we have little to fear from a temporary imprisonment.”
“We must wait for low tide before we start back,” observed Sybil. “Meantime, let’s run down to the beach and see how it looks.”
The descent to the water’s edge was easy, and they found the little bay ideal for their purpose. But they could hear the waves breaking with some force against the face of the cliff, just outside their retreat, and it would be hours before they might venture to return to the other side of the island.
So again they ascended the bluff and selected a place for their camp, beneath the spreading foliage of the tall bananas. Afterward they sought the source of the little brook, which was high up on the mountain and required a difficult climb to reach it. A spring seemed to well up, clear and refreshing, from a cleft in the rock, but even at its source there was no more water than would run from an ordinary house faucet.
“Isn’t it astonishing,” said Orissa, “how much moisture is dispersed from this tiny stream? I think it never rains here and this spring of water supplies all the island.”
“This part of it, anyhow. It’s mighty lucky for us the babbling brook is here,” declared Sybil, drinking deeply of the cool water and then bathing her heated brow with it.
“But what stumps me, Ris, is the lack of any life on the island. With water and green stuff both animals and birds might thrive here — to say nothing of bugs and lizards and serpents galore — yet aside from that great white owl we’ve not seen a living thing.”
“It really is curious,” admitted Orissa. Then, turning her gaze seaward, she exclaimed: “See there, Sybil! Isn’t that another island?”
“It surely is,” was the reply; “and only a few miles away. It’s a big island, too, Ris — far bigger than this. Did you bring along your glasses?”
“No; they are in the boat.”
“When we get them we can inspect that island better. Perhaps we could manage to get to it, Ris.”
“We’ll see,” was the doubting answer. “I imagine, if that island is so much larger, and proves to be more fertile than this, that we have discovered the reason why the live things, such as birds and animals, prefer it as a place of residence.”
They made their way back to the bluff and waited patiently for the tide to ebb. According to Orissa’s watch it was quite four o’clock before they deemed it safe to venture on the sands, and even then they went barefooted, as an occasional wave still crossed their narrow path.
By the time they reached the bay and their boat the two girls were very tired with their long tramp and as it was nearly sundown they decided to spend the night in this location and make the attempt to shift camp next day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AN OWL CONCERT
WHILE DAYLIGHT LASTED Orissa was busy examining the injury to the Aircraft and attempting a few preliminary repairs. Her long mechanical experience in the workshop with her brother enabled her to determine accurately what was required to put the machine into proper working order, and she thought she could accomplish the task.
“I can’t see that it matters, anyhow,” said Sybil, watching her chum from a seat upon the sands. “We can’t fly, and the boat is our only refuge. Even that we must manage to row or sail in some way.”
“All very true,” returned Orissa, “but I can see no object in neglecting these repairs when I am able to make them. I can take off the bent elevator rods and straighten them, after which the elevator and rudder may assist us in sailing, as we can oppose them to the wind. The engine control is a more serious matter, for the wheel connection was broken off short. But I shall take a rod from a support and fit it in place and then replace the support with our steel wire. That is a sort of makeshift and will require time and nice adjustment, but I can do it, all right. The tools Steve supplied were quite complete; there’s even a box marked ‘soldering outfit.’”
“Is there?” asked Sybil, eagerly. “See if any matches are in it, Ris.”
“Matches?”
“Yes. The lack of matches has disturbed me considerably.”
“Why, Syb?”
“We can’t cook without them.”
“Cook! why, I never thought of such a thing,” said Orissa, truly astonished. “What is there to cook, in this place?”
“Fish,” answered Sybil.
“And what would you use for fuel?”
“Fuel?”
“Yes; what is there to make a fire with?”
“Never mind that. Just see about the matches.”
Orissa opened the soldering case and found an alcohol torch, a flask of alcohol, solder, acid and a box of matches.
“Good!” cried Sybil, joyfully. “Don’t you dare do any wasteful soldering, Orissa Kane. Save every drop of that alcohol to cook with.”
Orissa laughed.
“I have nothing to solder, just yet,” said she. “And you’ve nothing to fry.”
“I soon shall have, though,” was the confident reply. “We’ve assured ourselves of one thing, Miss Columbus, and that is that we can sustain life, in case of necessity, on bananas and spring water. So I propose we have one good, luxuriant square meal this evening by way of variety. We’ve done nothing but lunch for two whole days and I want something hot.”
“I’m willing, Sybil. Can you catch a fish?”
“If there’s one in our neighborhood. I’ll try it while you are tinkering.”
Among the tools was a ball of stout cord, and for hook Sybil cut a short length of wire and bent it into shape with a pair of nippers, filing a sharp point to it. Then she opened a can of chipped beef and secured a couple of slices for bait. Going to the point of rock she found a place on the ocean side where a projecting shelf afforded her a seat above fairly deep water, and here she dro
pped her line.
Mr. Cumberford was an enthusiastic fisherman and while Sybil had never cared particularly for the sport she had accompanied her father on many a piscatorial expedition.
A tug. The girl hauled in, hand over hand, and found she had captured a large crab, which dropped from the hook to the rocks and with prodigious speed made for the water and disappeared.
“Good riddance, old ugly!” laughed Sybil.
Scarcely had she thrown her line when another tug came. A second crab floundered upon the rocks, but fell upon his back and lay struggling to turn himself.
Sybil ruefully contemplated the empty hook.
“I can’t feed all our good beef to horrid crabs,” she exclaimed; “but the beef seems a good bait and I’ll try again.”
Another crab. Orissa came clambering over the rocks to her friend’s side. The sun was sinking.
“What luck, Syb?”
“Only three crabs. I’m afraid it’s too shallow here for fish.”
Orissa leaned over the still struggling crab — the only one that had not escaped.
“Why, we pay big money in Los Angeles for these things,” said she. “They’re delicious eating; but they have to be boiled, I think, and then cracked and newburged or creamed.”
“Keep an eye on the rascal, then,” said Sybil. “Can’t he be eaten just boiled?”
“Yes; with mayonnaise.”
“There’s none handy. Let the high-brow go, and we’ll fish for something that doesn’t require royal condiments.”
But Orissa weighted the crab with a heavy stone, to hold him down. Then she sat beside Sybil and watched her.
“I’m afraid our fish dinner must be postponed,” began Miss Cumberford sorrowfully; but at that moment the line jerked so fiercely that she would have been pulled from her seat had not Orissa made a grab and rescued her. Then they both clung to the line, managing to draw it in by degrees until there leaped from the water a great silvery fish which promptly dove again, exhibiting a strength that nearly won for him his freedom.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 553
