Kitabı oku: «The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ROCKING STONE
It is not our intention to detail all that happened during the first week of the castaways’ stay on the island. Soon after the schooner anchored they were landed in boats and found themselves in the midst of a strange community indeed. As had appeared from the sea, the collection of huts – roughly built of driftwood and roofed with anything that came handy – ran almost down to the margin of the sea. Behind them were great thickets of thorny, straggly brush, in places higher than a man’s head. This, they learned afterward, was considered to be impenetrable. Rumor about the camp had it, though, that Simon Lake and his mate had managed to traverse it, and had formed paths among the dense growth which were only known to themselves. However that might be, nobody ever appeared to enter it for any purpose.
The camp, or collection of shanties, therefore, was to all intents and purposes, an island within an island. The great shed or barn-like structure which Tom had noted from the sea was, so it now transpired, a sort of detaining shed for the Chinamen until they could be shipped south to the States. It was fitted with numerous bunks and rough cooking places of brick, made from a kind of sun-dried clay. When the party from the schooner came ashore it was occupied by some hundred or more Chinese, who came curiously to the doors and gaped at the newcomers till some of Lake’s men roughly drove them back.
As for Tom, he could not but admire the system which the rough New Englander seemed to have instilled into the working of the affairs of the island. There was, it appeared, a regular division of labor, the men taking it in turns to go south with the Chinese and to stay and guard the island and receive the steamer when it came from the north with a fresh installment of yellow men. In this way Lake had effectually succeeded in silencing all grumbling over unequal division of tasks.
Lake himself was in absolute command of everything and everybody. It could be seen that his rough crew feared as well as admired him. As everywhere where several men are gathered together, some of the islanders were of a better sort than others. With one of these fellows Tom soon struck up an acquaintanceship. He was a man who had been with Lake on sealing cruises and had in this way drifted into his present life. He confided to Tom that he would be glad to get out of it, but that Lake had made them all swear, under threat of terrible penalties, never to desert the band.
We have not referred to our party as prisoners, for in the literal sense of the word they were not. As will have been seen, there was no need to surround them with the constant guard and surveillance that Lake’s gang would have been compelled to exercise elsewhere.
Indeed, every one of them realized bitterly that they were more effectually in captivity than if they had been encompassed by stone walls and iron bars. From the bleak, barren islet there was literally no chance of escape, unless they had sought freedom by utilizing an airship. True, the schooner lay at anchor in the little bay, and they were a numerous enough party to have worked her, for both the Kanakas were expert seamen. But the beach was patroled day and night, and, although there was nobody on board the schooner to repel them, yet she was, to all intents and purposes, as inaccessible as if she had swarmed with men and guns.
True to his word, Lake had set them all to work. Hitherto he had kept a sort of rough set of accounts. It now became Mr. Chillingworth’s duty to tabulate and assort these and enter the various transactions of Lake’s unusual “business” in different books. Then, too, the provisions of so considerable a party called for a good deal of bookkeeping. The rancher welcomed the work, however, and plunged into it with avidity. It kept him from thinking, he explained.
As for Tom, employment of an unique sort was found for him. It has been mentioned that Zeb Hunt had complained of a shortage of provisions. It was, in fact, the case that food on the island was scarce and daily diminishing. At the time the party landed the men were already beginning to grumble. Lake’s presence at first had the effect of quieting them, but within a few days the discontented mutterings broke out afresh.
It was this condition of things that occasioned Tom’s employment in a strange occupation for such a place. The Bungalow Boy was appointed by Simon Lake storekeeper and purveyor of provisions. He had a hut provided for him in which he kept his stock – all the provisions on the island. These he doled out three times a day, giving to each man his exact portion. It was no sinecure of a position, either. Tom, who, of course, was in no way responsible for the arrangement or for the shortage of food, had to meet many black looks and insolent threats as he gave each man his share, and no more, in the measures Lake had provided for the purpose.
For an assistant he had Professor Dingle’s boy, and for the first time in his life that youth was kept so active that he had little time to ask foolish questions. At the time Tom assumed charge of the store the main provisions left in the colony consisted of flour, coffee, oatmeal, a little bacon, and some spices and sugar. For meat the men had to depend on the fish they caught – luckily, they were plentiful. Lake had, at one time, maintained a flock of sheep and goats, but these had long since been used up.
As for Professor Dingle and the two Kanakas, no occupation had, as yet, been found for them, but they helped at numerous small tasks about the colony. In return for their services the castaways had been given a hut in the rear of the storeroom. Here they ate and slept and indulged in long talks, none of them caring to mingle with the rough characters of the colony, with the exception of Tom’s friend, whose name was Lucas Tryon. This man was always a welcome visitor, and he more than repaid what entertainment they were able to give him by the things he told them about the island and the ways and customs of its dwellers.
One morning while they were still lingering over the remains of their scant breakfast, Lake himself slouched in. His wound had now quite healed. Only a white scar remained to show where he would always carry a mark.
“Waal, perfesser,” he remarked, “ef you air ready, I reckin I’ve got a job fer you ter tackle ter-day. Come ter think uv it, ther rest uv you might come along. Zeb ’ull look arter ther store, an’ he can take care of ther kid, too.”
The professor at first demurred to this, but Lake’s manner showed that he was not to be trifled with. Whatever he had in his mind to do he evidently meant to accomplish without delay. It is a curious light on the character of Zeb Hunt that, rough, brutal man that he was, he had become seemingly much attached to the professor’s little lad and was never irritated at his endless questions. The professor, therefore, felt less reluctance to leave the lad behind them.
Soon after, with some of the rapidly lessening stock of provisions with them, the party, at Simon Lake’s heels, struck into the brush. Behind them in the little settlement were black looks which Tom could not help but notice. But he had grown so used to this in the store that he paid little attention to them. Once or twice the sullen demeanor of the men had seemed on the point of flaring out into actual mutiny, but, so far, Lake had been able to quell it. It did not occur to Tom that things were rapidly reaching a crisis.
From the camp the brush appeared to be impenetrable. But under Simon Lake’s guidance they soon found themselves on a narrow trail which wound steeply off up the overgrown hillside.
Lake said nothing, but stolidly plodded on till he reached a spot where the trail opened out into a small clearing – a natural space in the midst of the dense, rank growth.
“Sit down,” he said, motioning to some rocks which cropped out of the ground here and there. “Afore we go any farther I’m goin’ ter tell yer why I brought yer along on this cruise. Back in these mountains Zeb Hunt and I, on a hunting trip some time back, stumbled across what I believe are gold-bearing rocks. That’s what I wanted ther perfesser along fer. He’s a scientific gent, and kin tell in a minnit whether er not they be worth going arter.”
“How far is this place from here?” inquired the professor.
“Not more than an hour’s tramp by the trail I’m going’ ter take yer,” was the rejoinder. “I jes’ thought, though, that I’d stop and make it all clear to yer whar we air bound fer.”
“I fail to see what difference it makes since we are under compulsion to accompany you, anyhow,” said Mr. Chillingworth, rather bitterly.
Lake looked at him sharply.
“Waal,” he said slowly, “thar’s five of you and only one uv me. But,” and a slow smile crept over his face as he gazed at his belt in which hung two revolvers, “somehow I don’t believe it ’ud be healthy fer you ter try conclusions with me.”
As he spoke he shouldered his rifle and, changing his tone the next minute, said briskly:
“It’s for’ard, then?”
“Forward by all means,” rejoined the professor.
They all, except the silent Kanakas, echoed his words. At any rate, this adventure promised to be out of the ordinary run of things, and there was just a chance that it might prove the stepping-stone to the way of escape for which they were always on the lookout.
It must have been high noon when they emerged from the rough, rocky ground in which the brush found root and entered upon scenery of a totally different character to any they had yet encountered on the island. The denseness of the brush, which had prevented their looking about them, had concealed from them the fact that in the past hour of their march they had been rising very rapidly.
They now found themselves in a barren sort of tableland, which looked sun-baked and drear. Its surface was seamed and cracked as if by volcanic action in the past. Almost directly ahead of them, as it appeared, towered the ragged steeple-like peaks which were such conspicuous objects from the sea.
But a closer inspection proved that, as a matter of fact, the peaks were separated from them by a gulf or chasm, which, as a remarkable natural phenomenon, merits some brief description. A few steps across the arid tableland brought them to its edge. Tom could not repress a shudder as he gazed into the fathomless rift. Seared by volcanic fires till its sides were of a reddish, angry hue, the abyss itself seemed to have likewise been the result of some tremendous convulsion of nature.
It cleft the island into two parts like a crack in a plate, for it extended clear across it from one side to the other. While they were gazing down into the depths of this horrid profundity, Monday gave a sudden cry, and pointed to a large rock of conical form which upreared itself like a huge obelisk on the edge of the precipice not far from where they stood.
“Matura Seral!” they heard him exclaim to Tuesday, who was gazing at the object with wrapped interest.
“You have seen that stone before, Monday?” asked the professor, reading aright the expression of the two South Sea natives.
“Yes, boss. Many time when here with whaler. They call him Matura Seral – in our language that mean Rocking Stone.”
“A rocking stone, eh?” echoed the professor, beaming behind his spectacles. “One of those truly interesting glacial freaks.”
He hastened forward, following Lake, who had already started for the stone, of the existence of which he seemed perfectly well aware. At any rate, it was not an unfamiliar object to him, for as he reached its side he laid one of his hands upon it, and, to the amazement of the rest, they saw the mighty mass of stone actually quiver and sway. Yet so perfectly poised was it on the edge of the chasm, where the same convulsion that had caused the rift had probably deposited it, that in the countless ages it had stood there it had not moved from its base.
“Waal, gents all,” said Lake, as they came up, “here’s whar we stop.”
“So it seems,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “but where is that gold mine you brought us here to examine?”
For reply Lake pointed across the gulf at their feet. Exactly opposite to where they stood they could now see on the wall of a precipice facing them a narrow ledge. At one end of this ledge was what appeared to be the mouth of a cave.
“Thar,” said Lake, indicating the opening; “thar’s the place.”
“How on earth do you expect to cross this gulch?” gasped the professor, looking at Lake, as if he were in doubt as to whether the fellow was in his right wits.
Lake exerted a little more of his great strength and gave the rocking stone a great shove. It bent outward and dipped over the gorge.
“Hyar’s haow we’ll cross,” he said. “It’s a bridge put hyar by either God or the Devil, but it’s come in handy fer Simon Lake.”
CHAPTER XX.
BURIED ALIVE
It was Monday who broke the silence that followed.
“Dat right, boss,” he said. “In old time me come here wid whaler we go on stone lots of time.”
“All same stone in our country,” added Tuesday.
Lake stared at them with a dropped jaw. It was plain to see he was astonished.
“You’ve crossed by this stone?” he asked sharply.
But Monday shook his head.
“No,” he said, “but some time we come here and rock on him.”
For some reason or other Bully Banjo seemed mightily relieved at this.
“Waal,” he said, “it’s a simple thing, arter all. Jes’ a matter of balance. But I tell yer it took nerve ther first time me an’ Zeb crossed over, although we knew the rock would work – at least, the sealer wot told us about ther mine told us that ther thing was safe. And now, perfesser, ef you’ve no objection, we’ll jes’ send one of yer blacks across since they’re used ter it, an’ when they land safe on the ledge it’ll give ther rest of you courage.”
“Monday, do you mind attempting this?” asked the professor. The kind-hearted scientist would rather have tried the experiment himself – risky as it seemed – than compel one of his servants to go unwillingly. But he was under no such compulsion. Monday gave a broad grin that showed his white teeth in an expression of almost childish pleasure.
“Me like go, boss,” he said.
“All right, then. Up with yer,” ordered Lake brusquely. “I don’t want ter fool away too much time hyar, but I jes’ had ter know about thet gold afore we sail.”
“Then you mean to sail soon?” asked the professor, as Monday clambered up the rough sides of the rock.
“Ter-morrer, I reckon,” was the rejoinder. “Yer see thet them boys uv mine are getting pretty ugly. Thet’s one reason why I don’t want to spend too long a time hyarabouts.”
“Good heaven!” exclaimed the professor at the thought of his boy left behind in the camp. “You surely don’t fear an outbreak of trouble while you’re gone.”
“No,” rejoined Lake. “Frankly I don’t, but you kain’t mos’ genally allers tell. Howsomever, I kalkerlate thet Zeb Hunt kin tackle any trouble thet comes along.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said the professor, somewhat reassured. He then turned with the rest to watch with rapt attention what was transpiring on the rocking stone.
Monday had now almost reached the summit, and under his weight the big stone was tipping gradually outward till the part of it he had reached hung above the gulch. It descended as steadily as the arm of a semaphore, and, although the experience appeared to be a terrifying one, the black was smiling as though he enjoyed it.
As the point of the stone – which, as has been said, was cone-shaped – touched the rock ledge Monday nimbly leaped from it and stood on the narrow shelf of stone. The fellow, like most islanders, was as agile as a goat. He smiled broadly back at his companions who, however, were not looking at him, but at the stone, which, relieved of its weight, now tilted back into position again as if actuated by some hidden machinery.
“Wonder how that old sealer felt the first time he tried it?” mused the professor.
“Kind er skeery like, I reckon,” said Simon Lake. “I guess he – ”
But Tom interrupted him with a sharp question. It was odd, but the idea which had just struck the boy had not as yet occurred to the others.
“How do you get back again?”
Lake laughed.
“Waal, yer see thar’s a trail up thet cliff that leads to ther top. Frum thar thar’s a path thet leads to a cove the ’tother side of the island. Thar’s mighty shallow water close in shore thar, so we kain’t bring ther schooner round, but Zeb Hunt an’ me keep a boat thar so that when we get through in ther cave we’ll cut across the other half of ther island and row home in ther boat.”
That solved the mystery which for an instant had perplexed them all. Lake, who seemed to be in high spirits, confided to them that all these secrets had been contained in the map of the place the old sealer had given him. Not knowing Lake’s character, our party wondered a good deal at his flow of spirits for – except when he had his banjo in hand – he was generally taciturn and sullen. They did not know that danger acted on him like wine on some men. Affairs at the camp were far more critical than he had let them know. That morning Lake had received a note threatening his life if he did not immediately set sail. It was characteristic of the man that this only made him delay the more.
“The varmints. I’ll teach ’em,” he had muttered, as he tore the missive into shreds.
But the realization that mutiny was imminent had been the real reason for his visit that morning to the gold-bearing rocks. He wished to make sure that they were as valuable as he believed, and if they proved to be so he was quite cold-blooded enough to sail off and abandon the mutineers to their fate. Returning to the island at some later date, he would ransack it of its precious metal at his leisure.
Tuesday followed his fellow-countryman over. He made the passage in perfect safety, fairly squealing with delight as the big rock tipped with him. Then came Tom’s turn. He also made the crossing without accident, as did the professor and Mr. Chillingworth. Simon Lake came last, carrying his weapons and a sack of tools which he had brought – a drill and such implements – the better for boring and obtaining samples.
When they all stood on the ledge and watched the big stone rise majestically for the last time, Tom was conscious of a sinking sensation. What if something had happened to the trail – if it were blocked or something. They would inevitably be prisoners till death came to their relief. However, there was no time to dwell on gloomy thoughts like these.
While they had been making the passage of the gulch a change had set in in the weather. It had been bright when they set out, but now dark clouds had rolled up, obscuring the sun and casting gloom into the depths of the crevasse upon whose edge they stood. There was an oppressive feeling, too, in the air.
“Thar’s a storm of some kind comin’ up,” commented Lake, gazing overhead at the driving clouds.
“Thunder?” asked the professor sniffing the heavy, sultry air.
“Looks like it. Ef it is one, we’ll be glad of shelter. We git some hummers daown in these parts, I kin tell yer. They don’t come often, but when they do, by Chowder! they deliver ’em in large packages.”
As he spoke a few heavy drops of rain fell.
“Come on. Better hurry for the cave,” cried Lake, hastening forward with his sack of tools. They followed him, keeping as close to the cliff-face as they could. The ledge was narrow, and it was unpleasant to think of what a misstep would result in.
The cave proved to be a large one and reached back some distance into the rock. Its floor was littered with bowlders and earth, where Lake and Zeb Hunt had carried on their prospecting operations.
The professor picked up a bit of the stuff. In the dim light they could see the dull glint of metal in it. Lake watched the scientist curiously.
“Waal,” he said, “haow is it?”
“I cannot tell positively,” was the rejoinder, “but if it is all like this, it is worth considerable per ton.”
“Will she run two thousand dollars to the ton?” asked Lake curiously.
The professor shook his head.
“Impossible to say without adequate assaying implements.”
“Make me out a list of wot yer want and when I come back from ther next run I’ll bring ’em with me,” promised Lake.
To Tom this speech seemed particularly ominous. It meant that there was no intention on Lake’s part of their escaping.
“Here’s a good boring,” said Lake presently. He drew a lantern from the tool bag and lit it, holding it up against a place at the back of the cave which had been pecked at with a pick. To do this he had to squat down almost doubled up in the cramped space. This brought the tip of one of his pistol holsters against an outcropping rock and the weapon fell to the ground unnoticed by Lake, but instantly seen by Tom, who stood close behind. Without any very definite idea of what he meant to do with it, the boy slipped it inside his shirt. Perhaps he would have some opportunity to find use for it, he thought vaguely.
Lake, earnestly examining bits of rock and handing them up to the professor, did not notice the loss of his weapon.
Suddenly there came an ominous growling sound from outside. It was thunder. The storm was rapidly nearing them then.
“Gee whillakers!” exclaimed Lake, suddenly springing erect. “Ef I ain’t forgotten ter go an’ look fer thet signal.”
“What do you mean?” asked the professor.
“Why, frum ther top uv this cliff yer kin see ther camp with field-glasses. I brought mine along fer thet purpose. Afore I left I agreed with Zeb thet in the event uv trubble he wuz ter hoist a red flag. Ef everything wuz all right, he was to run up the blue one. I’m goin’ up thar now afore ther storm makes it too thick.”
He hastened from the cave and, making his way along the ledge, began to mount the face of the cliff by a narrow stairway cut at a sharp incline in the face of the acclivity. Presently he vanished at the summit. It was then that Tom, with shining eyes, turned to the others.
“Our chance to escape has come!” he exclaimed.
“How do you make that out?” asked Mr. Chillingworth listlessly.
For reply Tom drew out his pistol.
“We can make Lake prisoner on his return,” he said eagerly, “and then make our way across the island to the cove in which, as he told us, he had hidden the boat.”
“Good gracious boy!” cried the professor excitedly. “That’s a good idea. A splendid one, but – what about my boy?”
Tom, who in his excitement had quite forgotten that the son and heir of the Dingle fortunes was in the care of Zeb Hunt, looked thoughtful.
“Of course, we must get him,” he said. “I’ll tell you,” he cried, his eyes flashing at the adventurous daring of the plan he was about to propose, “we’ll make Lake prisoner and take him along with us. With him in our power, we will be in a position to make terms with the rascals. We can conceal him somewhere and refuse to give him up till we get our liberty and the boy.”
Perhaps to any one less desperately situated the plan would have appealed only as the forlornest kind of a forlorn hope. But to our party it seemed feasible, and even excellently practicable.
But as they stood discussing it in the cave mouth, there came a sudden blinding flash of lightning. Involuntarily they all stepped back within the cavern. The clap of thunder that followed the electrical display shook the cliff till it vibrated again.
“Wow! this is a real storm, sure enough!” exclaimed Tom. “I never saw such lightning.”
“And no rain,” said the professor; “that makes it doubly bad. These dry electrical storms are always more severe than those accompanied by a heavy downpour.”
As he spoke there came another blinding flash, accompanied by a terrific peal of thunder. But the figure of Lake could now be seen coming down the cliff-face on his way back to the cave. The time to put their plan into execution had arrived. Amid the turmoil of the elements, they discussed it. It was agreed that Tom, hiding behind a big fragment of rock at the entrance of the cave mouth, was to level his pistol at the unsuspecting desperado as he appeared. He was then to be disarmed and tied, and the rest of their arrangements they left in an undecided condition till the first part of the daring program was carried out. The main thing to do, so all hands agreed, was to capture Lake.
Nearer and nearer came the unsuspecting leader of the Chinese runners. Tom crouched back into his place of concealment as the other came on. The rest stood close behind him. They hardly dared to breathe as the footsteps of the man they wished to capture drew closer.
As his form was framed in the cave mouth Tom sprang erect, holding the pistol level and pointed straight at Lake’s head. He saw the rascal grow white under his tan and open his mouth as if about to speak. But at the same instant there came a crash that seemed as if heaven and earth were being devoured in one vast catastrophe. At the same time a sheet of dazzling, burning white flame enveloped them. The figures in the cave mouth were illumined in its livid glare as if cut out of black paper. Crash followed crash. Another and another. A sensation like that of the pricking of myriad pin points ran through them. The blue lightning darted, hissing viciously about them, bathing them in living electricity.
Bewildered and stunned, Tom saw Lake’s figure reel and fall backward, clutching at the rock as he fell. The boy sprang forward to catch him and save him from falling into the abyss below, when a crash that dwarfed the others fairly stopped him in his tracks.
There came a mighty splitting, rending sound and Tom, looking upward in the direction from whence it came, saw the form of the great rocking stone swaying drunkenly on the bed in which it had rested securely through the ages.
Suddenly the great rock mass toppled out, its black form impending between the lad and the sky. The noise of its falling reverberated above the shriek of the storm and the thunder’s loudest roar.
Instinctively Tom tottered backward as it fell. Stunned, half deafened, and numb from the lightning, he reeled like a sick man. But even above it all, he could hear Lake’s wild death-shriek ringing out as he plunged backward.
The next instant there was a shock that seemed to shake the cliff to its mighty foundations. The dim light of the storm-shrouded day was blocked out, and at the same moment Tom lost consciousness.
But to the others there came no such merciful blotting out of the strange horror of the situation. In the very act of overpowering their enemy, they had, in turn, been overwhelmed by a crushing disaster.
The rocking stone, driven and unseated by a terrific thunderbolt, had lost its delicate balance and toppled from its base into the abyss.
In its fall it had wedged across the narrow gorge, blocking completely with the weight of tons of stone the entrance to the cave.
The castaways of Bully Banjo’s island were buried alive beyond hope of escape.
