CHAPTER III.

IN THE CAVE.

There had been so little sleep among us all that night that as soon as the dawn came and brought with it assurance that the wild creatures would leave us in peace, we disposed ourselves to rest, and I found one of the dead panthers as good a pillow as I had ever known.

We woke toward noon much refreshed. The captain washed and dressed Tom’s wounds and told us that by the next day at the furthest we must leave the fort and voyage along the coast in search of a settlement.

“Why not stay here until my brother is quite recovered?” I asked. “If we bar the windows so that nothing can enter, we shall be very comfortable. Besides, there is the cave which we ought to explore.”

“No good can come of our staying here, and much harm may come of it,” he replied.

“May I ask what harm, sir?” I asked.

“I mistrust John March and I mistrust the crew. They would gladly have murdered us, and they may yet turn back and make sure that we do not escape to tell tales of them. It is my duty to see you young gentlemen safely to Charleston, and when once that is done I care little what happens to me.”

“Suppose the pirates should come,” said Tom. “Could we not hold the fort against them?”

“We have but a dozen charges of ammunition for each gun and the villains know it. They would surely capture us at last, and would put us to the torture in return for having resisted them. If they find us here we are lost, and I am therefore anxious to make good our escape as soon as possible.”

“Then let us start at once,” cried Tom. “If I cannot row at least I can steer, and in a few days the stiffness will have gone from my arm.”

“Let us start then to-night, so that if by chance the wretches should have returned and should be lying off the coast they could not see us,” answered the captain. “We will carry a cargo of oranges with us, for they are both food and drink, and it will take us at least a week before we can gain the nearest settlement.”

Tom and I thought that the matter being thus decided we should explore the cave without any more delay; so we took the lantern and set about it. But first we resolved to ascend the hill in which was the entrance to the cave. We had climbed but a short distance when we were able to see the sea, and there, to our great dismay, we saw a vessel lying but a short distance from the land.

We made out at once that she was not the Swansea, for she was a schooner, and we began to hope that she might be an honest vessel, that had run short of water; that her captain meant to supply himself from our river, and that he would take us off with him.

We were going to carry the good news to Captain Fearing when I remembered that beyond doubt the fort had been built by pirates and that no honest vessel knew anything about the river. So all the more we hurried to warn the captain. Providence willed, however, that we should be too late, for we had scarcely entered the back door of the fort when a large boat carrying fifteen men whom we knew at a glance to be pirates, swept up the river and came to the landing-place, where all the men hastily tumbled out.

Captain Fearing had seen the boat, and had boldly gone down to meet it, before we could speak to him. He was unarmed, and I could see that the pirates were greatly surprised to find him there, and that they were not of the crew of the Swansea. They gathered around him while he spoke to them, and then some of them went to see our boat, that was lying partly behind an overhanging tree, so that they had not at first seen it. I greatly admired the bravery of the captain, who trusted himself among those bloody men; I was hoping I know not what, for I well knew that between an honest man and pirates there could be no peace, when I saw one of the wretches put a pistol to the captain’s head and blow out the poor man’s brains.

There could not be the least doubt that the captain was dead, and terribly as we were shocked we knew that if we were not to share his fate we must escape before the pirates caught sight of us. The very fact that they did not come to the fort to search for us the instant they had shot the captain was proof that he had not told them of us.

“The cave is our only chance, Tom,” I whispered. “Catch up the ammunition and the guns and I will take all the provisions I can carry, and we will hide in the cave. It is lucky we have the lantern all ready.”

While I was speaking I gathered up as many biscuit as I could stuff in the breast of my shirt, and seized what was left of the two hams—which was a whole one and a fragment of another—and ran towards the cave, meaning to leave the provisions, and if possible return for more. But I had hardly started back when I met Tom running at full speed, and I learned from him that the pirates were approaching the fort, and that he had just time to escape unseen.

As there was really no chance of our remaining concealed in the cave if the pirates should search it, Tom suggested that we should put all our things in the boat and paddle out into the lake. Although I had been eager to make such a strange underground voyage only an hour before, the death of the captain had somehow changed my thoughts, and I did not hanker after the darkness of the cave. So I said to Tom that unless the pirates knew of the cave they would not be likely to come to it, and that at any rate they would not search for us, because they did not know of our existence.

“Well,” said Tom, not very well pleased, “I suppose we can stop half an hour or so here at the mouth of the cave, for it will take them that time to break into the fort.”

“What do you mean?” cried I.

“Why, I shut the big door and barred it before I left,” answered Tom. “That will delay them and give us time.”

“And tell them, too, that the captain had some one with him, for they well know that he could not have left the fort and barred the door from the inside himself. How could you be so stupid? Now after they have broken in they will find the back door open and know the way we have taken. They will be here in a few moments.”

“We have plenty of time,” said Tom, without trying to defend himself. Indeed he never did, for the dear, honest, brave lad knew that he was a little slow and dull, and thought it quite natural that what he had done should be wrong. “The pirates,” he continued, “will make sure that there is somebody in the fort ready to defend it, and the very silence will make them cautious. As I said, it will be a good half-hour before they get here, and if we have the skiff all ready we can take to it before they can see us. Besides, they may have no light with them.”

“The boat is sure to have a lantern,” I replied. “However, Tom, you did what you thought was best, and perhaps it was. Come, let’s get the skiff ready.”

We baled all the water out of the skiff and stowed our provisions and ammunition in it; and then, gun in hand, we went back to sit at the mouth of the cave and see the sunlight as long as possible. We knew the way between the mouth of the cave and the place where the skiff lay so well that we could find it without a light, so we left the lantern in the skiff.

We talked in whispers as we sat waiting for the pirates, and I think neither of us had very much hope that when once we should be driven into the cave we should ever see the dear light of day again.

At last we heard a shout from the fort and knew that the pirates had broken in. We instantly started for the skiff, but the pirates must have known all about the cave, for they were close after us with a lantern that gave light enough to light up the whole cave, and we had barely time to leap into the skiff, blow out our own lantern and shove off when they were upon us, yelling and calling on us with awful oaths to come back.

I sat in the stern of the skiff and paddled hard, but to our great fright we found that what we had supposed to be a lake was really a small pool of water. An underground stream entered the cave a few yards from the place where we found the boat, and after making a little pool perhaps fifty feet wide and seventy-five long, the stream left it through an archway some four feet high. This archway was situated at the further end of the cave.

It was impossible to find any place where we would be out of sight of the pirates. As I paddled around the pool hoping to find a projecting rock that would give us a shelter the pirates could see us plainly. They ordered us to come back, and as we paid no attention to them they began firing at us. By great good fortune none of them had guns, but as there were nine of them in the cave and nearly all of them discharging their pistols at us, it was not at all pleasant. Several times the balls hit the boat, and once one came so near my ear that I thought it had struck me.

“This won’t do,” exclaimed Tom. “Shove her under that arch as quick as you can, Jack.”

You may ask why I had not already done this, as I have said that the arch was high enough to admit the skiff. The reason was that the water flowed under it with a current so strong that I feared that once in it the skiff would be swept along in spite of the paddle. But our affairs were now desperate, and certain death awaited us unless we could find a shelter.

We were only two boats’ lengths from the arch when Tom spoke. I had made up my mind that the arch was our only chance, and since Tom was willing to risk it, I turned the skiff into the current and we glided under the arch out of sight and range of our enemies.

The moment we found ourselves in the current I was more frightened by far than when the pirates were firing at us. The force of the water was terrible, and we were whirled along in deep darkness without the possibility of stopping our progress. The passage in which we were was apparently made with as much regularity as if it was the work of man. I could touch either side with my paddle, but the sides seemed perfectly smooth and slippery, and there was nothing to which I could cling. As for the roof of the passage, it was for the most part so high that I could not reach it, though once the paddle, which I was holding over my head, struck violently against the rock.

We had traveled in this way for several minutes, although it seemed very much longer, and neither of us had spoken, when I accidentally caught hold of an iron ring on the left side of the passage or gallery, and although I was nearly dragged out of the boat I managed to hold on and bring the boat to a standstill. We had no rope with us, or I would have made the boat fast, but as it was I could hold her for a long time without getting exhausted. I called to Tom to light the lantern. When he had done this and we could see each other the place seemed less dreadful.

The ring had of course been fastened in the rock by some one, though for what reason I could not imagine. But its finding gave me new courage, for it showed that we were not the first ones who had explored the cave.

“What are we to do now?” I said to Tom.

“Go on, when you get tired of holding the skiff,” he replied.

“Can you see what I am holding on by?”

“No,” he answered. “A bit of rock, I suppose.”

“Nothing of the kind,” I exclaimed. “It is an iron ring.”

“And what if it is?” asked Tom.

“Why, just this; somebody has been here before us, and put this ring in its place. What do you suppose that was done for?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Tom, without showing much interest in the ring.

“I think,” I continued, “that this is only one of a number of rings, and that a rope used to run through them the whole length of this channel, so that when a boat wanted to return against the current, the man in the boat could lay hold of the rope and pull himself back.”

“That may be so,” said Tom, “but the rope isn’t there now, so it’s of no use to us. You can’t hold on to that ring forever, and if you could we should starve to death, after a while. You’ll have to let go presently, and then down we float again.”

“But, Tom, can’t you see that if people used to go up and down this passage it must lead somewhere, and we are not going to be carried down any dangerous cataract or anything of that sort?”

“I suppose it does lead somewhere; but since we can never get back again, I don’t think it makes much difference whether it leads over a cataract or into some dark hole where we will have to stay and starve. But let her go, Jack. We might as well know what is going to happen, for it is no good stopping here.”

I did not much like the idea of committing ourselves to the current again. There seemed no help for it, however; so after saying my prayers I let go the ring and the skiff shot away once more.

The lantern, which was now lighted, showed us that every few yards there was a ring in the wall, and to one of these rings was hanging a bit of rope. I caught hold of it, but it was very rotten. However, I knew now that I was right about the rings. I felt sure that it was perfectly safe to go down the channel, though I saw that it would be impossible to return.

I know very well that a person badly frightened and floating with a strong current in the dark can know but little of the distance over which he passes. But I was quite sure that we were moving fully eight miles an hour, and we were certainly in that curious underground river for at least ten minutes. I also feel safe in saying that we must have gone a good mile when I saw a glimmer of light ahead. Then we came suddenly into another large pool where the water was quiet and which was dimly lighted by an opening in the roof of the cave that seemed fifty feet above us and through which we could catch a glimpse of a little scrap of blue sky.