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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 41. In The Gross Darkness |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY ONE. IN THE GROSS DARKNESS Panton's conscience smote him, and he could not speak, for he felt that he was to blame for their trouble. But Oliver Lane rose to the occasion. "Quick," he said, "all candles out but one. Keep yours, Drew, and the other can be relit when it burns down." In an instant there was a darkening of the scene of gloom, and the young botanist held up his dim yellow light a little higher. "Now, then, what's to be done?" he said, huskily. "Hail--hail, all together," cried Oliver, and he was obeyed, but the echoes were the only answers to their cries. "Poor old Billy! Poor old Billy!" groaned Smith. "Silence, there!" said Oliver, sharply. "There is only one thing to do. You must get back to the entrance as quickly as you can, and then make for the brig to fetch lights and ropes." "But it seems so cruel to go and leave the poor fellow without making farther search." "You cannot make farther search without lights," cried Oliver, angrily. "Quick! you are wasting time. Go at once while your lights last." "And when the lights are all out, what then? How are we to find our way?" "By touch," cried Oliver. "One of you must creep along by the side of the river and feel the way from time to time." "Come along, then," cried Panton, "but it does seem too hard to go and leave the poor fellow." "He's not going to be left," said Oliver, quietly. "What do you mean?" cried Panton. "I am going to stay." "Then I shall stay with you," said Panton, firmly. "I'm not going to leave you in the lurch." "You are going to do as I tell you," raged out Oliver. "Go, and don't lose the chance of saving the poor fellow's life. Quick! Off!" "Let me stay with you, sir," growled Smith. "No, man, go!" cried Oliver, and without a word, Drew led off with the others following and the faint rays from the candle shining on the rocky wall, with a very feeble gleam. Then as Oliver watched, it appeared like a faint star on the surface of the water, making the young man shudder at the thought of some terrible subterranean creature existing there ready to attack him as soon as the last rays of the candle and the steps had died out. This did not take long, for roused to make quick effort by those stern, emphatic commands, the sadly diminished party hurried on, with Oliver watching them as he stood still for a few minutes, and then moved slowly farther away from the little whispering river, extending his hands till they touched the rocky wall against which he leaned. He listened to the footsteps growing more and more faint, and watched the faint yellow star, until it died right away, gleamed faintly into sight once more, and then was completely gone, leaving him in total darkness, and face to face with despair, and the knowledge that the fate which had snatched away his companion so suddenly, might at any moment be his. For what was it? Had he slipped and fallen into the stream, and been swept away before he could rise to the surface, and cry for help? Had he inhaled some mephitic gas which had overcome him? Or was he to let superstitious imagination have its play and believe that some dragon or serpent-like creature had suddenly raised a head out of the dark waters, seized him, and borne him down? It was possible, and a shudder ran through the young man's frame as he pictured the great serpent-like object suddenly darting itself at him, wrapping him in its folds as he had seen the constricting sea-snakes seize their prey, and at once drag them out of sight. He shuddered at the thought, and in spite of a strong effort to command his nerve, the horror of thick darkness was upon him for a few minutes, and a mad desire came over him to shriek aloud, and run frantically in what he believed to be the direction of the entrance, though a movement or two which he had made had robbed him even of that knowledge, and for the moment he felt that he had lost all count of where he was. He came to his natural self again, with his hands tightly over his mouth to keep back the cries which had risen to his lips. "As if I were a frightened child in dread of punishment," he said, half aloud, in his anger against self, and from that minute he grew calm and cool once more. Feeling about a little over the face of the rock as he turned to it, he found a place where he could seat himself and rest for a time. And now he knew well enough that he must be facing the stream, and that all he had to do to reach the entrance was that which he had bidden his companions do, creep along by the side, and dip in his hand from time to time, so as to keep in touch with the water. "As a last resource," he said, softly, "as a last resource," and then he began to think of how necessary this would be, should he have to seek the daylight alone, for he recalled how, though the place was a mere passage at times through which the lava stream flowed, there were spots where it opened out into vast halls, whose sides and roof were beyond the reach of the artificial light they had used, and in these places he knew he might easily lose himself and with this loss might fail in his nerve, and perhaps go mad with horror. He shuddered at the thought as he recalled the sensation through which he had fought his way, and determining to be firm and strong, he turned his attention away from his own sufferings to those of the man for whose sake he had stayed. "And it was to help him and give him encouragement that I stopped," he said to himself, with a feeling of hot indignation against his weakness. "Then I must not stay here, but go back towards where we missed him." He sat thinking for a few moments as to his plans, and then, feeling certain that when help came, those who returned would follow right on, he concluded that it would be better to go back to the junction of the two streams once more, and stay there, striving from time to time, in spite of the deafening noise, to make the lost man hear. "It will encourage him, for I will not believe he's dead," said Oliver aloud, and then, in spite of himself he shivered, for his voice went echoing strangely along the great hollow. But he mastered this unpleasant feeling, and determining to be strong, he raised his voice and uttered a loud "Ahoy," listening directly after to the wonderful echoes, which seemed to fly in all directions, repeating and blurring each other as it were, into a strange confusion till the last one died out. "Not pleasant," thought Oliver, as he listened, and then when all was silent once more he made a start for the river's edge, and reaching it began to follow it down. This, by walking slowly, did not prove very difficult, for the water had cut the bed in which it ran so straight down through the lava that there was quite a well-marked angle, which he could run his right foot along and make his way without stooping, save at rare intervals. As he went on with his eyeballs aching from the strong natural effort to see through the darkness, his mind would keep wandering away to the glory of the sunshine without, and how beautiful were light and life, and how little appreciated till a person was shut off from their enjoyment. Travelling slowly on in this way for how long a time he could not tell, he at last became conscious of the fact that he must be nearing the place where they had turned off nearly at right angles and plunged from silence into the deafening roar of echoes formed by the noise of falling waters. For there it all was plainly on the ear, but as it were in miniature, and Oliver stopped short, thinking. "Shall I be doing wisely in going forward after all?" he said to himself, and he hesitated as he thought of one of the main objects of his being there--to try and let poor Wriggs know that he was not forsaken and that help would soon be at hand. "My voice can never be heard in all that din," he said to himself, and before going farther he uttered a loud shout, and listened to the echoes, one of which struck him as being so peculiar that he shouted again with the repetition sounding even more peculiar. His heart began to throb and his hopes to rise, for he felt convinced that the "ahoy" was an answer to his call, and in a wild fit of excitement and joy he said to himself,-- "It must be. Now, let's try if it is after all only an Irish echo." "Ahoy!" he cried. "Where are you?" There was utter silence for a few moments, and then he heard a cry sounding so wild and strange that it seemed to freeze the very marrow in his bones. _ |
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