Blanche silently gave her hand to her lover, a trifle nervous at having to traverse so long a distance in impenetrable darkness, and buried—who knew how deep—beneath the surface. Buried! The idea was a most unpleasant one just then; and she shuddered as they plunged hand in hand into the passage, Lance at the same moment flinging the charred stump of the burnt-out torch back into the great cavern behind them.

Cautiously they groped their way onward, Lance feeling his way along the wall of the passage, and making sure of his footing at every step by passing his foot lightly forward over the ground before advancing.

In this manner the pair proceeded for what seemed to them a considerable length of time—at least Blanche thought it so, for at last she said with a slight tremor in her voice—

"How much longer do you think we shall be, Lance! Surely we cannot be very far from the entrance now."

"No, we must be getting pretty close to it," said Lance; "but surely you are not feeling frightened, little woman?"

"Not exactly frightened," answered Blanche; "but this terrible darkness and this awful silence makes me nervous. It seems so dreadful to be groping one's way like this, without being able to see where one is going; and then I have a stupid feeling that the rocks above us may give way at any moment and bury us."

"Not much fear of that," said Lance with a laugh, which went echoing and reverberating along the passage in such a weird unearthly manner that Blanche clung to her companion in terror. "These rocks," he continued, "have supported for years—probably centuries—the weight above them, and it is not at all likely they will give way just now without any cause. I daresay the time does seem long to you, darling, but you must remember we are walking at a much slower pace now than we were when we passed over the ground before. Of course we might walk faster, since we know the ground to be tolerably even and regular; still it is best to be cautious; if either of us happens to stumble here in the dark we might receive a rather severe blow. However, keep up your courage, we cannot be very much longer now."

Once more they continued their way in silence, the ground sloping gently downwards all the while, as they could tell notwithstanding the darkness; and still no welcome ray of daylight appeared in the distance to tell them that they were approaching their journey's end.

At length a vague and terrible fear began to make itself felt in Lance's own mind. Recalling the incidents of their inward journey, he tried to reckon the time which they had occupied in passing from the open air along the gallery into the great cavern, and he considered that they could not possibly have been longer than twenty minutes, probably not as long as that. But it seemed to him that they had been groping there in the intense darkness for two hours at least! No, surely it could not be so long as that; the darkness made the time lag heavily. But if they had been there only one hour, they ought by this time to have reached daylight once more, slowly as they had been moving. Surely they had not—oh, no, it was not possible—it could not be possible—and yet— merciful God! what if they had by some dreadful mischance lost their way.

The strong man felt the beads of cold perspiration start out upon his forehead as the dreadful indefinable haunting fear at length took shape and presented itself before his mind in all its grisly horror. He had faced Death often enough to look him in the face now or at any time without fear; but to meet him thus—to wander on and on in the thick darkness, to grope blindly along the walls of this huge grave until exhaustion came and compelled them to lie down and die—never to look again upon the sweet face of nature—never again to have their eyes gladdened by the blessed light of the sun or the soft glimmer of the star-lit heavens—to vanish from off the face of the earth, and to pass away from the ken of their friends, leaving no sign, no clue of their whereabouts or of their fate—oh, God! it was too horrible.

Not for himself; no, if it were God's will that thus he must die he had courage enough to meet his fate calmly and as a brave man should. Thank God, he had so lived that, let death come upon him never so suddenly, he could not be taken unawares. Lance Evelin was by no means a saint; he knew it and acknowledged it in this dread hour; but he had always striven honestly and honourably to do his duty, whatever it might be, with all his strength; and then, too, like the apostle, he knew in Whom he trusted.

No, Lance was not afraid of death on his own account; it was for the weak timorous girl by his side that all his sympathies were aroused. Doubtless she too possessed a faith firm enough to enable her to meet her fate undismayed—he believed she did; but what terrible bodily suffering must she pass through before the end came.

But perhaps, after all, he was alarming himself unnecessarily; even now they might be within a few yards of the outlet and yet not be able to see it, because, as he suddenly remembered, the passage was curved from its very commencement.

But then, he also remembered, the passage at its outer end was so narrow that Blanche had to walk behind him, and here they were, walking hand in hand and side by side, as they had been ever since they had entered this interminable passage.

"Blanche," said he, steadying his voice as well as he could, "put out your hand, dear, and see whether you can reach the right-hand wall."

He felt her lean away from him, and then came her reply in a broken voice—

"No, Lance, I cannot."

"Why, pet," he exclaimed, "I really believe you are crying."

"Yes, I am," she acknowledged. "Forgive me, Lance dear, I really cannot help it; I shall be better by and by, perhaps, but—oh! it is so dreadful. You are very brave, and very good to me, but I know you must have realised it before now—the dreadful truth that we are lost here."

"Tut, tut; nonsense, child," Lance answered cheerily; "why, Blanche, you will get quite unnerved if you suffer such thoughts to take possession of you. There, lay your head on my shoulder, darling, and have your cry comfortably out; you will feel better and braver afterwards."

He put his arm round her as he spoke; and the poor frightened girl laid her head upon his breast, trustfully as a child, and sobbed as though her heart would break.

Her companion let her sob on unchecked; he did not even say a word to comfort her—what could he say, with that frightful suspicion every moment gathering force and strengthening itself into certainty? No; better not to say anything; better not to buoy her up with delusive hopes; and, oh! how thankful he felt that the terrible task of breaking to her the news of their awful position had been spared him.

The sobs gradually grew less violent, and at length ceased altogether. Then Blanche raised her head and said quietly—

"Now, Lance, I am better, and feel able to listen to the worst you can tell me. I will not ask you to give me your candid opinion of our position, because I know it is—it must be the same as my own. But what do you propose that we should do?"

"Well," said Lance, as cheerily as he could, "the first thing I intend to do is to light a match and take a glance at our surroundings. It was stupid of me that I did not think of doing so before."

He drew a box of matches from his pocket—being a smoker he was never by any chance without them—and the next moment a sharp rasping noise was heard, and a tiny flame appeared. The light, however, was too feeble to penetrate that Egyptian darkness; they saw nothing but each other's faces; hers pale, with wide-open, horror-stricken eyes; and his, with contracted brow and firmly compressed lips, indicative of an unconquerable determination to struggle to the last against this dreadful fate which menaced them.

"This will not do," said he; "we must improvise a better torch than this."

He fumbled once more in his pockets, and presently found a sheet or two of paper on which he remembered jotting down some notes relative to matters connected with the construction of the battery. These he folded very carefully; so loosely as to burn well, yet tightly enough to burn slowly and so give them an opportunity for at least a momentary glance round them. Then he struck another match, applied it to one of the tiny torches, and raised the light aloft.

As he did so, Blanche uttered a piercing shriek, and seizing him by the arm, dragged him back against the rocky wall of the passage. Then, pointing before her, she gasped—

"Look, Lance; look!"

Lance looked in the direction toward which she pointed, and grew faint and sick as he saw that they had been standing on the very verge of a precipice. A stone, dislodged by Blanche's hasty movement had rolled over the edge, and they now heard it bounding with a loud echoing clang down the face of the rock, down, down, down, the sound, loud at first, growing fainter and fainter, until at last a dull muffled splash told that it had reached water more than a hundred fathoms below.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

BLANCHE AND HER LOVER HAVE TO SWIM FOR IT.

"Stand close against the wall, Blanche, and do not move," commanded Evelin, as the paper torch burnt down and went out. "Now," he continued, "I am about to light up another of these papers; and we must utilise the light to get past this gulf, if possible; it will never do for us to remain where we are. The question is—In which direction will it be most advisable for us to proceed? We must devote a moment or two to a hasty survey of the place, as far our light will allow us, before we move. Neither the time nor the light will be wasted. And it will be better that you should turn your glance upward and away from the edge of the chasm; your nerves will then be all the steadier when we have to make a move. Now, I am going to light up once more."

Another paper was lighted; and, placing himself in front of his companion, or between her and the edge of the chasm, in order to guard against the possibility of her turning faint or giddy and falling over, Lance raised the light at arm's-length above his head to glance round. As he did so, the tiny flame wavered, as if fanned by a faint draught. He looked at it intently for a moment, and noticed that the wavering motion was continuous, and such as would be produced by a steady current of air flowing in the direction in which they had been proceeding. Then he knelt down and held the lighted paper close against the surface of the ground. The flame burnt steadily for an instant and then betrayed a very slight draught in an opposite direction. Then it went out, the paper being all consumed.

He thought intently for a moment; then turned to his companion and said—

"Blanche, dearest, we are saved. Pluck up your courage, my own love, and thank God with me for showing us a way out of this terrible labyrinth."

"I don't understand you, Lance," answered the girl, trembling with agitation; "are you only saying this to sustain my courage a little while longer, or do you really mean that you believe there is still a chance of our emerging once more into the blessed light of day?"

"I mean, dear, that I hope and believe we shall escape. Listen. That bit of lighted paper has revealed the presence of two distinct currents of air flowing along this passage. That means that an outlet to the open air exists somewhere. The upper current, which is the warmer of the two, is flowing in the direction of that outlet; and all we have to do is to follow in the same direction, if we can, and we shall eventually reach the opening."

"Then let us proceed at once, Lance dear, please," pleaded poor terrified Blanche. "I feel as though I should go mad if we remain here much longer. I have a frightful feeling urging me—almost beyond my powers of resistance—to fling myself forward over the edge of that dreadful chasm which is yawning to receive me. Oh! save me, Lance darling, save me for pity's sake."

"I will save you, dear, if it is in man's power to do so," answered Lance, "but you must help me by keeping up your courage; you know I cannot possibly think and reason calmly whilst you continue in this deplorable state of nervousness. Now, I will light another paper—our last—and we will move forward at once. Keep close to the wall, and be ready to give me your right hand as soon as the light shines out."

Another moment, and a feeble glimmer once more illumined the Cimmerian darkness.

Holding the light in his right hand, Lance gave his left to Blanche, and they cautiously resumed their way. The ledge along which they were passing was about six feet wide; but a yard or two further on it narrowed abruptly, leaving a path barely twelve inches in breadth. It continued thus for a length of some twenty feet, and then widened out abruptly again, apparently to the full width of the passage. It seemed, in short, as though the terrible chasm terminated at this point.

Luckily, Lance was the first to see it, and his resolution was at once taken. He dropped the lighted paper as if by accident, and extinguished it by setting his foot upon it. He knew that if his companion caught so much as a single momentary glimpse of the short but frightfully perilous passage she would have to make, her nerve would utterly fail her, and too probably a dreadful catastrophe would happen. So he resolved upon the hazardous attempt to get her past the danger blindfold.

"Tut! what a clumsy fellow I am!" he exclaimed pettishly, as though in reference to his having dropped the lighted paper. "Now I shall have to expend another match. But, Blanche, your nerves are still unsteady; the sight of this threatening gulf is too much for you. I think you would do better blindfold. Give me your handkerchief, dear, and let me tie it over your eyes. I will remove it again as soon as we are past the chasm."

"Thank you," said Blanche. "I really believe I should feel better if the sight of that dreadful place were shut out. I can trust to your care and courage; but I confess with shame that, as far as I am concerned, I am thoroughly unnerved."

Lance took the handkerchief which Blanche put into his hand, and bound it gently but firmly over her eyes, arranging it as well as he could in the darkness in such a manner as to make the blinding perfectly effectual.

He then led her cautiously forward a step or two until he felt with his outstretched foot the edge of the precipice, when, bidding her stand perfectly still and to cling firmly to the irregular surface of the rock, he once more lighted the short remaining end of paper, utilising its brief existence to note well the perilous path they had to tread.

"Now, sweetheart," he said briskly, "do you feel better, and fit to go on?"

"Oh, yes," was the reply, in a tone so bright and cheerful that Lance felt intensely relieved; and he forthwith set about the difficult task of getting his companion past the narrow ledge without further delay.

By the last expiring gleam of his short-lived taper, Lance took one more rapid glance at the terrible pass, and then, as the thick darkness once more closed round them, he said—

"Now, dear, you must be very cautious how you move. Keep close against the rock, and take a firm hold of any projections you can find. Do not move until you have a firm hold with both hands, nor without telling me of your intention, as I shall keep close to you and give you the support of my arm. And do not loose your hold of the rock with one hand until you have secured a firm grip with the other. Now, have you a tight hold? Then move gently along, side wise; and keep close to the rock."

The dreadful journey was begun. Slowly and cautiously the pair groped their uncertain way along that narrow ledge, each pausing until the other was ready to proceed; and Lance with difficulty restrained a shudder as once during the passage he felt that the heel of his boot actually projected over the awful ledge. A dozen times he felt outwards with his foot to ascertain whether the chasm was passed or not, and at last, with an involuntary sigh of ineffable relief he found that there was solid ground beyond him as far as his foot could reach.

"Now stand quite still for a moment, Blanche," he said. "I am about to light another match."

He did so, and found that they had indeed achieved the awful passage— with some six inches to spare. At his very feet still yawned the hungry gulf, but they were beyond it, thank God, and once more in comparative safety. Hastily seizing his companion's hand, he hurried her far enough away from the spot to prevent her seeing the deadly nature of the peril to which they had been exposed, and then removed the bandage from her eyes.

"There," he said cheerfully, "we are past the chasm at last, and now you may have the use of your eyes once more."

Lighting another match, the imprisoned pair now pressed forward as rapidly as circumstances would permit, taking care to keep a match always alight in order that they might not stumble unawares upon a possible second chasm or other danger. They pressed forward in silence, except for an occasional word of caution or encouragement from Lance, both being far too anxious to admit of anything like a connected conversation.

Suddenly Lance stopped short. To his sense of hearing, acutely sharpened by the long-continued death-like silence of the place, there had come a sound, fainter than the breathing of a sleeping infant, a mere vibration of the air, in fact, but still—a sound.

What was it? He knelt down and placed his ear close to the ground. Yes; now he caught it a trifle more distinctly; the faintest murmur still, but with something of individuality appertaining to it. It rose and fell rhythmically, swelling gradually in volume, and then subsiding again into silence.

"Hurrah!" he shouted joyously. "The sea! the sea! I can hear it. Courage, Blanche darling, our journey is nearly at an end. One short half-hour at most, and, with God's help, we shall be free."

Again they pushed eagerly forward; with high hopes and grateful hearts now, and with every yard of progress the gladdening sound rose clearer and clearer still until there could no longer be any possible mistake about it; it was indeed the regular beat of surf upon the shore.

At length a faint gleam of light became perceptible upon the rocky walls in front; gradually it strengthened, until the more prominent projections of the rock began to stand out bold and black against the lighter portions beyond; and at last, as the path curved gently round, their eager eyes were gladdened by the sight of an opening into which the sea was sweeping with a long lazy undulating motion until it curled over and plashed musically upon a narrow strip of sandy beach.

They both paused for a moment, with one consent, to feast their eyes upon the gladsome sight, and to restore their disordered faculties. Then they saw that the long passage or gallery within which they stood terminated at its outer end in a cavernous recess, opening apparently on a precipitous part of the shore. The floor of the passage sloped gradually down until it met the short strip of sand upon which the mimic waves were lazily beating; and a yard or two from the water's edge the sand was marked with a well-defined line of stranded weed and drift- wood, which indicated the inner limit of the wash of the sea. A single glance was sufficient to show that the auriferous rock had been left behind; that which now surrounded them being a coarse kind of granite. Pursuing their way the pair soon stood upon the strip of beach. Then came the question, How were they to get out of the cavern, now that they had reached its mouth? The sides rose perpendicularly, and the top arched over in such a manner that escape seemed impossible. Lance made several attempts on each side of the entrance to work his way out, but the face of the rock was worn so smooth with the constant wash of the water that the nearer he approached the entrance the more difficult did he find it to proceed, and at last, failing to find any further foot- hold, he was compelled to abandon his efforts and return to Blanche, who meanwhile had been resting her tired limbs on the soft grey sand.

"Well, Blanche," he said, "I thought our troubles were over when I first caught sight of that opening, but it appears they are not. There seems to be only one possible mode of escape from this place and that is by swimming. Now, I can manage the matter easily enough if you will only trust me; the distance is the merest trifle, the water is smooth, and if you think you have nerve enough to rest your hands on my shoulders and to refrain from struggling when we get into deep water, I can support your weight perfectly well, I know, and carry you safely round to the beach, which I have no doubt we shall find at a short distance on one side or the other of the opening. It will involve a ducking, certainly, but we cannot help that; and if we walk briskly afterwards we shall take no harm."

Blanche laughed—she could afford to do that now. "If that is our only difficulty, it is but a trifling one," she said. "I can trust you implicitly, Lance; and, what is perhaps almost as important, I can also trust myself. I can swim a little; and if I should tire I shall not be frightened, having you to help me."

"Very well," was the reply; "that is better than I dared hope. Would you like to rest a little longer, or shall we make the attempt at once?"

Blanche announced her perfect readiness to make the attempt forthwith; and without further ado the pair straightway entered the water, hand in hand, Lance first taking the precaution to place his watch in his hat and ram the latter well down upon his head. They waded steadily in until Blanche felt the water lifting her off her feet, when they struck out, Lance regulating his stroke so as to keep close beside his companion. The water was delightfully warm, the sun having been beating down upon it all day, and the immersion proved refreshing rather than otherwise. It took them only about a couple of minutes to reach the mouth of the cave; and then Lance began to look about him for a suitable landing-place. He had expected to find a beach on one side or the other of the opening; but there was nothing of the kind as far as he could see. Perpendicular cliffs rose sheer out of the water on both sides of the opening for a distance of perhaps a hundred yards; and where the cliff terminated the ground sloped steeply down, with huge masses of rock projecting here and there, the foot of the slope being encumbered with other rocks which at some distant period had become detached and rolled down into the water. In bad weather it would have been death to attempt landing upon any part of the shore within Lance's range of vision; but fortunately the weather was fine and the water smooth; so they made for a spot which Lance thought would serve their purpose, and in another ten minutes succeeded in effecting a landing among the rocks. The scramble up the steep face of the slope before them was not without its perils, but this also was happily accomplished; and at last they found themselves standing safe and sound on tolerably level ground, just as the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the summits of the hills before them.

Lance found that they had come out on the eastern side of the island; and as the harbour lay on the south side he knew pretty well in which direction they ought to walk; they therefore at once set out at a brisk pace toward a large patch of forest fringing a hill at some distance in front of but a little to the south of them.

They had not gone very far before Lance, who was keeping a keen look-out for some familiar landmark, recognised a dip between the hills as the ravine up which they had passed in the morning; and altering their course a little they came in about half an hour to the stream, which they crossed without difficulty, and then followed it down until they reached the pool in which the first discovery of gold had been made. Thence their way was tolerably easy—though, in the darkness which had by this time closed down upon them, they went somewhat astray while passing through the wood—and in another hour they found themselves once more safely within the shelter of Staunton Cottage, thoroughly tired-out with their long and adventurous day's ramble.

Their entrance was greeted with exclamations of mock horror at the length to which they had spun out the day's ramble; but Blanche's pale cheeks, draggled dress, and general "done-up" appearance speedily apprised her friends that a contre-temps of some kind had occurred; and their jesting remarks were quickly exchanged for earnest and sympathetic inquiries as to what had gone wrong. Whereupon Lance— having first suggested to his late companion the advisability of immediate retirement to her couch, and bespoken Mrs Staunton's kind services in the preparation of a cup of tea for each of the tired-out wanderers—proceeded to give a succinct account of their day's adventure, the recital of which elicited frequent exclamations of wonder, alarm, and admiration, the latter being vastly increased when he produced his valuable specimens, to which he had resolutely "stuck" through it all notwithstanding that their weight had proved a serious encumbrance to him during his swim.

"Now," he said in conclusion, "the net result of the day's exploration amounts to this. We have discovered a mine of incalculable wealth. What are we to do in the matter? There is so much gold there—in the cave, I mean—that a short period of resolute and well-directed labour will enable us to collect sufficient not only to fully recoup the underwriters for their loss through the burning of the Galatea, but also to make every individual among us enormously rich. Are we to let it lie there, and trust to the future for an opportunity to come back and fetch it, or shall we make an effort now to collect what will suffice us, and trust to chance for the opportunity to carry it off with us when we go?"

In answer to this, everybody declared at once without hesitation their opinion that an attempt ought to be made to collect and carry off the gold with them; Captain Staunton very sensibly remarking that if anything occurred to prevent the safe transport of their prize home they could then organise an expedition for a second attempt; but that it would be folly to make a necessity of this if by some extra effort on their part the business could be managed without it.

This point being settled, the next question to be decided was—how they were to set about the collection of the precious metal; for it was obvious that any attempt to absent themselves from their daily attendance at the shipyard would not only excite suspicion, but it might also provoke a very unpleasant manifestation of active hostility on Ralli's part.

Here Violet Dudley came to the rescue with a very practical suggestion.

"If you, Lance," said she, "can contrive to mark the two passages out of the great central cavern in such a manner that we women cannot possibly mistake one for the other, and so go astray, we might perhaps be able to collect the gold and convey it to a suitable spot for removal; and when enough has been gathered we can take our time about transporting it down here."

"An admirable suggestion, Miss Dudley!" said Captain Staunton. "That effectually disposes of one part of the difficulty. But it will never do to bring the gold here; we could not possibly convey it on board the schooner without detection, even if we were quite sure of the success of our plan for making our escape in her. Do you think, Evelin, the pirates have any knowledge of the existence of this cave of yours?"

"I am pretty certain they have not," was the reply. "There is no sign of any human foot having ever passed over the ground before our own; and it is so eminently well adapted for a place of concealment for their booty—and, indeed, for themselves as well—in the event of the island ever being attacked, that I feel sure they would, had they known of it, have stocked it with provisions and in other ways have prepared it as a place of refuge. It was only by the merest accident that I discovered the spot to-day; and but for the fact that our search not only led us up to the head of the ravine but also actually caused me to scale the face of the rock, it would have remained undiscovered still. A man might stand within twenty feet of the entrance without suspecting its existence; and, unless he had occasion to scramble up the rock as I did, and in exactly the same place, he would never find it."

"Very well, then," said Captain Staunton, "what I propose is this. Since the ladies are kindly disposed to give them we will thankfully accept their services to this extent. Let them collect the gold and convey it to the edge of the gulf or chasm which you so providentially escaped tumbling into to-day. Then we men must undertake the task of conveying it to the other side and stacking it up in a position from which we can easily remove it with the aid of a boat. If we succeed in securing the schooner, we shall simply have to call off the mouth of the cave and remove our booty in that way. Can anyone suggest anything better?"

No one could; it was therefore decided that the skipper's proposal should be adopted, especially as it left them free to alter their plans at any time, should circumstances seem to require it. This decision arrived at, the party retired for the night, most of them, it must be confessed, to dream of the wonderful cave and the equally wonderful wealth of which they had been talking.

The next day was spent by all hands, Dale included, at the shipyard. This individual had, ever since poor Bob's accident, manifested a growing dissatisfaction with himself, and an increasing amount of shame at the selfishness which caused him to live a life of idleness and comparative ease, while every one of his companions, the ladies included, were doing all they could to aid in maturing the great plan of escape; and now at last shame at his unmanly conduct fairly overcame him, and on this particular morning he startled everybody by putting in an appearance at the same time as the rest of the male portion of the party, saying in explanation that henceforward he too should go daily to work, as he was quite sure he could be of assistance. He was, of course, assured that he undoubtedly could be of very great use if he chose; and there the matter ended. But a rather unpleasant feeling was excited when Ralli, who was always promptly down at the beach to watch the departure of the working party, noticed and commented upon Dale's presence.

"Aha! my fine fellow," he remarked sneeringly, "so you have made up your mind to go to work at last, have you? That is very well, sare. You must surely have dream last night that I had my eye on you. You think, perhaps, I have not take notice; but I have; and if you had not gone to work to-day, I should have said to you, 'Look here, my good man, suppose you not work you not eat;' and I should have stopped your 'lowance. But you are going to work; so now that is all right."

It certainly served Dale right; but, all the same, it was a disagreeable sensation to the rest to feel that this sly Greek had been in all probability keeping a stealthy watch upon them and their movements. They inwardly resolved to be very much more circumspect in their goings- out and in their comings-in for the future; and they lost no time either in communicating this resolve to each other.

All day long their thoughts were busy upon the subject of the gold mine; and by the time that they got back to the cottage that evening each man had an idea in connection with it to communicate to the others. They were unanimous upon one point, which was that—after Ralli's remark to Dale in the morning, and the espionage which it seemed to suggest—it would be most unwise for any of the male portion of the party to visit the cave during the day. Henceforward their visits there would have to be as few and far between as possible, and such visits as were unavoidable must be made during the night. With the women it would, of course, be different. They could now safely venture out every day, it was believed; and as the walk up the valley was the one which involved the least exertion, it would only appear natural that they should almost invariably take it. But, in order to disarm suspicion, in case anything of the kind happened to exist, it was deemed best that an occasional walk should be taken in some other direction until they could resume the road toward the ravine with the certainty that they had not been watched and followed.

It was further agreed all round that the task of carrying the gold, when collected, over the most dangerous part of the path along the edge of the ravine was not to be thought of, especially as Captain Staunton had thought out a plan by which all danger might be completely avoided. His idea was exceedingly simple, and consisted merely in the erection on each side of the chasm of a short stout pair of sheers connected together at their heads by a good strong sound piece of rope, having rove upon it a thimble with a pair of clip-hooks attached. The gold could then be put into a canvas bag suspended from the clip-hooks, and, with the aid of a hauling-line, hauled easily enough across the chasm to the other side.

These details agreed upon, they determined to proceed with their arrangements that same night. Accordingly, as soon as the evening meal was over, the men retired to their bunks for a few hours' sleep—all, that is to say, except Dale, who, quite unaccustomed to bodily labour, felt thoroughly exhausted with his day's work, and was therefore readily excused. He volunteered, however, to remain up on watch until all the lights in the pirates' quarter were extinguished, and then to take a good look round the settlement, and call the others when all was quiet; a raid upon the capstan-house being the first thing necessary to enable them to carry out their plans successfully.

The pirates, working hard all day in the open air, were, as a rule, tolerably early birds; and by eleven o'clock that night the place was wrapped in darkness and repose. Having thoroughly satisfied himself that this was the case, and that the coast was quite clear for his comrades, Dale roused the latter and then tumbled into his own berth with the comforting reflection that he had at last taken the right course, and done something to regain that respect from his companions which he was beginning to be acutely conscious of having forfeited.

Five minutes later four forms might have been seen—had anyone been on the look-out—stealing quietly across the open space between Staunton Cottage and the capstan-house. Fortunately no one was on the look-out, and they reached the building undiscovered, ascended the ladder, and found themselves standing in the thick darkness which enshrouded the long loft-like apartment.

Here Lance promptly produced his box of matches, and, on striking a light, they were fortunate enough to discover hanging to a nail near the door a lantern ready trimmed. This they at once lighted, and, carefully masking it, proceeded to rummage the place for such things as would be likely to prove useful to them. The place was almost like a museum in the variety of its contents; and they were not long in confiscating a dozen fathoms of three-inch rope, the remains of a coil of ratline, a small ball of spun-yarn for seizings, a sledge-hammer, an axe apiece, a marline-spike, a few long spike-nails, which Lance decided would be capital tools for the ladies to use in picking out the nuggets, and a few other trifling matters. Then, hanging the lantern upon its nail once more, they extinguished it, and made the best of their way down the ladder again.

A pause of a minute or so to look round and assure themselves that no midnight prowler was in their vicinity, and they set off at a brisk pace up the valley, lighted on their way by the clear soft effulgence of the star-studded sky.

They were not long in reaching the shelter of the dense wood at the head of the valley; and once fairly through it, they laid down the bulk of their booty where they could easily find it again, and, returning to the wood, selected a couple of young pines, which they quickly felled. The branches were soon lopped off, after which they cut from the tall slender trunks four spars about ten feet in length to serve for sheers.

Shouldering these, they sought out the remainder of their belongings, and—by this time pretty heavily loaded—continued their way into and up the ravine, arriving at last, under Lance's guidance, at the great rock which veiled the entrance to the cavern.

Lance and Brook at once scrambled up to the narrow ledge before the entrance, taking with them the ratline and such other small matters as they could carry, while Captain Staunton and Rex remained below to "bend on" and send up the remainder. Many hands—especially if they be willing—make light work, and a quarter of an hour sufficed to transfer everything, themselves included, to the ledge. Torches, chopped out of the remainder of the pines, were then lighted, and, once more loading up their possessions, they plunged boldly into the cavern, Lance as pilot leading the way.

In about half an hour they found themselves standing in the great central hall or cavern, which, lighted up as it now was by the glare of four flaming torches, looked more bewilderingly beautiful than ever. A hurried glance round was, however, all that they would now spare themselves time to take, and then they at once set vigorously to work. The first thing necessary was to mark in a legible manner—and in such a way that the mark could be identified in the darkness if need be—the inner extremity of the passage through which they had just passed. Rex and Brook undertook to do this; and as they had already agreed what the mark should be, these two began, with the aid of the sledge-hammer and a spike, to chip in the face of the rock a circular depression on the right-hand side of the passage, at a height of about three feet from the ground, so that it could easily be found and identified in the dark by a mere touch of the hand. Leaving these two busily employed, Lance and Captain Staunton hurried away in search of the other passage. They soon found an opening which proved to be the right one, though a third was afterwards found to exist further along the circular wall of the cavern. The second, however, was the passage they wanted; for, on going a short distance into it, Lance's and Blanche's footprints were distinctly traceable in a thin coating of fine dust which was met with. The identity of the passage being thus established, it was marked in a similar way to the other, but with a cross instead of a circle. The marking of the two passages proved to be a long and tedious job, owing to the hardness of the rock and the imperfect character of the tools, but it was done at last; and then they set out to execute the real task of their journey, namely, the erection of the sheers.

Now that they had lights the journey along the second passage to the spot where the sheers were to be erected was accomplished in a trifle less than an hour; but a shudder ran through them all as, following the footprints, they saw that Blanche had twice or thrice walked for several yards on the extreme verge of the yawning chasm without being aware of it. And when at last they came to the narrowest part of the path—that which Blanche had traversed blindfold—they felt their very hair rising as they craned over the edge and heard the pebbles they threw in go bounding down until the sound of their ultimate splash in the water was so faint as to be hardly distinguishable. It was nervous work, the passage along that narrow ledge, but it had to be done and they did it, hauling the poles across afterwards with the aid of the rope; and this part of the work successfully accomplished, the rest was not long in the doing; another hour saw both pairs of sheers erect, properly stayed, and the three-inch-rope bridge strained across, with the clip-hooks and hauling-line attached, and, in short, everything ready for the commencement of operations. The axes and other matters were then taken back to the great central chamber, where they were left for future use, and the party made the best of their way into the open air, and thence homeward, arriving finally at Staunton Cottage about an hour before the great bell rang the summons for all hands to come forth to another day's labour.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

BOB WANTS TO BE RICH.

The problem as to the working of the gold mine being so far satisfactorily solved, it only remained to ascertain how the arrangements would answer when put into practice, and this the ladies did without loss of time. Their plan was that one of them should remain at home to look after Bob and little May, while the other two devoted a few hours of the day to the cave. As they took it in turns to remain at home in the capacity of nurse, each of them had two days in the cave to one at the cottage.

In the meantime, thanks to Lance's skill and the careful nursing of the ladies, Bob was making steady progress toward recovery, and within a month of the occurrence of his accident was beginning to ask how much longer he was going to be kept a prisoner.

He had been made aware of the gold discovery, by occasional references to it on the part of the others in his presence, but he had never heard the complete story; so one day, when it was Blanche's turn to remain at home, he asked her to give him the entire history; which she did.

He listened most attentively; and when the story was over remained silent, apparently wrapped in profound thought, for several minutes.

Looking up at last, with a flush of excitement on his face, he exclaimed—

"Why, there must be gold enough there to make millionaires of every one of us!"

"Yes," said Blanche, "I believe there is; at least Lan— Mr Evelin says so, and I have no doubt he knows."

"Oh yes," exclaimed Bob enthusiastically, "he knows. I believe he knows everything. And what a splendid fellow he is, isn't he, Miss Lascelles?"

This last with a sly twinkle in his roguish eye.

Blanche appeared to think it unnecessary to comment upon or reply to this remark; at all events she remained silent. But the window-curtain somehow needed adjustment just at that moment, and the haste with which she rose to attend to this little matter—or something else—caused a most lovely pink flush to overspread her cheeks. Bob saw it; perhaps he knew exactly what caused it; but if he did he was too much of a gentleman to show that he had noticed it. So when Blanche had adjusted the curtain to her satisfaction he remarked with a heavy sigh—

"Oh dear! I wish I was well enough to be out and at work again. I long to have the handling of some of that gold."

"You must have patience, Robert," said Blanche. "The worst part of your illness is now over, and in due time you will no doubt be able to take your share of the work once more. But whether such is the case or not, you may rest satisfied that you will have your share of the gold. Whatever there may be, whether it be much or little, I know the gentlemen have decided that it shall be divided equally among us, even to little May."

"I am sure it's very kind of them," said Bob with a touch of impatience in his tone; "but I want to be up and able to work at it—to gather it in and see it accumulate. I want to be a really rich man."

"For shame, Robert," said Blanche, with just the faintest feeling of disgust—the first she had ever experienced toward Bob. "If you talk like that I shall leave you. I am disappointed in you; I should never have suspected you of being mercenary."

"Well, I am then," returned Bob, quite unabashed. "I am mercenary, if that means being anxious to be rich. And so would you be, Miss Lascelles, if you had seen as much misery as I have; misery, too, which could be cured by the judicious expenditure of comparatively trifling sums of money. Only think how jolly it would be to go up to every poor hungry man, woman, and child you met, clap a sovereign in their hands, and say, 'There, go and enjoy the luxury of a good unstinted meal for once in your life.' But a rich man's power goes a great deal further than that. If ever I am rich I shall not be satisfied with the bestowal of relief of such a very temporary kind as a solitary meal amounts to; I shall hunt up some really deserving cases and put them in the way of earning their own livings. Real relief consists, to my mind, of nothing short of the stretching out of a helping hand and lifting some poor soul clean out of that miserable state where one's very existence depends upon the fluctuating charity of one's fellow- creatures. I've seen it, and I know what it means. There's any amount of real misery to be met with in the neighbourhood of the Docks, ay, and all over London, for that matter, if one only chooses to keep one's eyes open. Of course I know that many of the beggars and match- sellers, and people of that kind are rank loafers, too idle to work even when they have the chance—people who spend in drink every penny that's given them—and in my opinion they richly deserve all the misery they suffer. But there are plenty of others who would be only too happy to work if they could; and they are the people I should seek out and help, the poor women and children, you know. It makes me fairly sick, I give you my word, Miss Lascelles, when I think of the vast sums of money that are squandered every year in ways which leave nothing to show for the expenditure. Take gambling for instance. I've heard that thousands of pounds are lost every year at card-playing and horse-racing. The money only changes hands, I know; but what good does it do? If a man can afford to part with a thousand pounds in such a way, how much better it would be for him and everybody else if he would expend it in furnishing a certain number of persons with the means to earn their own living. I don't believe it's right for people to squander and waste their money; I believe that money is given to people in trust, and that everybody will have to answer for the way in which they discharge that trust; don't you, Miss Lascelles?"

"Certainly I do, Robert," answered Blanche, very gravely. "But I must admit that I have never until now viewed the matter in the serious light in which you put it. I must beg your pardon, and I do most sincerely, for the way in which I spoke to you just now. I had no idea that you had any such good reasons as you have given for desiring to be rich. But what would you be able to do single-handed, no matter how rich you might be?"

"Ah!" ejaculated Bob with a gesture of impatience, "that's just what everybody says, and that's exactly where the mischief lies; they don't do anything because they can't do everything, and because they can't get others to join them. But I shouldn't look at it like that; I should just do my duty, whether other people did theirs or not; if others choose to shirk their duty it is their own look-out, it affords no excuse for me to shirk mine. But there—it's no use for me to talk like this; perhaps I never shall be rich; the gold is there, you say; but that is a very different thing from having it banked in England. How do they think we are going to get it away from the island without discovery? You may depend upon it that, whenever we go, it will be all in a hurry."

Blanche explained Captain Staunton's plan as to the carrying off of the gold; but Bob shook his head dubiously.

"It is a capital plan, I admit," he said, "but its success depends upon everything turning out exactly as arranged, and—you mark my words— things won't turn out that way at all; they never do. Will you do me a favour, Miss Lascelles?"

"Certainly I will, Robert, provided of course that it is in my power," answered Blanche.

"Thank you," said Bob. "You can do it easily enough. Bring home here— and get the other ladies to do the same—every day when you return from the cavern, as many nuggets as you can conveniently carry—say two or three pounds' weight each of you, you know—and hand them over to me. I'll contrive to find a safe hiding-place for them, and when the moment comes for us to be off I'll see that they go with us if such a thing is at all possible; then we shall not be quite destitute if after all we have to leave the heap in the cave behind us. But don't say anything about this to the gentlemen; Captain Staunton might not like it if he heard that I doubted the practicability of his plan."

Blanche readily gave the desired promise, and there the matter ended for the time.

Meanwhile the work went steadily forward at the shipyard, and by the time that Bob was once more able to go on duty the framework of the schooner was complete, and the planking had been begun, whilst the battery was in so forward a state that another fortnight would see it ready to receive the guns. Ralli was in a high state of delight; but Bob had not been at work many days before he discovered that things were no longer as they had been when he received his hurt. The Greek had never been courteous in his behaviour to the Galatea party, but now he was downright insolent, and his insolence seemed to increase every day. At the outset of the work the gentlemen of the party, that is to say, Captain Staunton, Lance, and Rex, had been required to look on and direct the progress of the work only, but now Lance was the only one to whom this privilege was granted, a privilege which he scorned to accept unshared by the others, and accordingly when Bob once more joined the working party he found his friends with their coats off and sleeves rolled up to the shoulders performing the same manual labour as the rest. Seeing this, he of course did the same, and thus they all continued to work until—the end came.

Bob was greatly surprised at this state of things; so much so that he sought an early opportunity to inquire of Lance the meaning of it. Neither Lance nor anyone else in the party were, however, able to give any explanation of it; all they could say with regard to the affair was that Ralli had been gradually growing more insolent and tyrannical in his treatment of them until matters had reached the then existing unpleasant stage. But he was earnestly cautioned by Captain Staunton not to mention a word respecting it to the ladies, as it was extremely desirable that they should be kept for as long a time as possible quite free from all anxiety of every kind.

"But can nothing be done to make this fellow mend his behaviour?" inquired Bob of the skipper as they separated from the rest of the working party and walked toward the cottage on landing from the boats that night.

"I fear not," was the reply. "While the schooner and the battery were still to be built we had the man to some extent in our power; but now that the battery is so near completion, and the hull of the schooner fully modelled, he is independent of us, and he has sense enough to know it. His own people are quite capable of finishing off the schooner now that her framework is complete, so that threats on our part would be useless—nay, worse than useless—since they would only irritate him and lead to increasing severity toward us."

Bob lay awake a long time that night, quite satisfied that the time had arrived when something ought to be done, but what that something should be he puzzled his brain in vain to discover.

About a fortnight after this a serious accident occurred at the shipyard, or rather at the battery. This structure was now so far advanced that it was ready to receive the guns which were intended to be mounted in it. The armament was to consist of six 24-pounder iron muzzle-loaders of the ordinary old-fashioned type, to which Johnson had helped himself in some raid on the Spanish-American coast; and on the morning in question a gang of men was told off to hoist these guns up the cliff into the battery.

Lance had, as a matter of course, undertaken the supervision of this operation; but the work had hardly commenced when Ralli made his appearance on the scene, announcing his intention to himself direct operations at the battery, and roughly ordering Lance to return at once to his work on the schooner, "and to be quick about it too, or he (Ralli) would freshen his way."

Evelin of course returned at once to the shipyard without condescending to bandy words with the Greek, and the work went forward as usual.

Ralli soon had a pair of sheers rigged, and in due time one of the guns was slung ready for hoisting.

Lance had been watching Ralli's operations, first with curiosity and afterwards with anxiety, for he soon saw that the man knew nothing whatever about handling heavy guns. He now saw that the gun which was about to be hoisted was wrongly slung, and that an accident was likely enough to result. So, forgetting his former rebuff, he threw down his tools and hurried to the place where the men were working about the gun and told them to cast off the slings.

"You have slung it wrong, lads," said he, "and unless you are very careful some of you will be hurt. Cast off the slings, and I will show you the proper way to do it."

The men, accustomed to working under his directions, were about to do as he bade them, when Ralli looked over the parapet and angrily ordered them to leave the lashings as they were and to sway away the gun.

"As for you, mister soldier," he said, shaking his fist at Lance, "you have left your work contrary to my orders, and I will seize you up to a grating and give you five dozen to-night as a lesson to you. Now go."

Lance turned on his heel and walked away. Things had come to a crisis at last, he thought; and he began to wonder how the crisis was to be met; upon one thing he was quite resolved, and that was that he would never submit to the indignity of the lash; Ralli might kill him if he chose, but flog him—never.

His sombre meditations were brought to an abrupt ending by a sudden crash accompanied by a shout of consternation in the direction of the battery. Looking that way he saw the tackle dangling empty from the sheers, with the lower block about half-way up the cliff face, and at the base of the cliff were the men grouped closely together about some object which was hidden by their bodies. Suddenly one of the men left the rest and ran toward the shipyard, shouting for help.

"There has been an accident," thought Lance. "The gun has slipped from the slings, and likely enough somebody is killed."

"Muster all the crowbars and handspikes you can, lads," said he, "and take them over to the battery; there has been an accident, I fear."

A strong relief gang was soon on the spot, only to find Lance's fears confirmed. The gun had been hoisted nearly half-way up the cliff when the guide-rope had fouled a rock. The armourer had stepped forward to clear it, and in doing so had given it a jerk which had canted the gun in its slings, and before the unfortunate man had realised his danger the gun had slipped and fallen upon him, crushing both his legs to a jelly.

There was an immediate outcry among the men for Lance, an outcry which Ralli would have checked if he could; but his first attempt to do so showed him that the men were now in a temper which would render it highly dangerous for him to persist, so he gave in with the best grace he could muster and ordered one of the men to fetch Evelin to the spot. On receiving the message Lance of course at once flung down his tools and hastened to the assistance of the injured man. When he reached the scene of the catastrophe he found all hands, Ralli included, crowded round the prostrate gun, and everybody giving orders at the same time, everybody excited, and everything in a state of the direst confusion.

As he joined the group Ralli stepped forward with a smile on his lips, which in nowise cloaked his chagrin at being obliged to yield to the demands of the men, and began—

"You see, mister soldier, we cannot do without you it seems, after all. Just lend the men a hand to—"

But Lance brushed past him without deigning the slightest notice; and, pushing his way through the crowd, called upon a few of the men by name to assist him in relieving the unfortunate armourer from the ponderous weight of the gun, which still lay upon the poor fellow's mangled limbs. Such implicit confidence had these men in him, prisoner among them though he was, that his mere presence sufficed to restore them to order; and in a few minutes the armourer, ghastly pale, and with every nerve quivering from the excruciating pain of his terrible injuries, was safely withdrawn from beneath the gun.

"Now, make a stretcher, some of you—ah, Dickinson, you are the man for this job; just make a stretcher, my good fellow—the same sort of thing that you made for the lad Bob, you know—and let's get our patient into a boat as quickly as possible; I can do nothing with him here," said Lance.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Dickinson promptly; and away he went with two or three more men to set about the work, Lance plying the injured man frequently with small doses of rum meanwhile.

Ralli stood upon the outskirts of the crowd angrily watching the proceedings. He could not shut his eyes to the fact of Lance's popularity with the men, and he vowed within himself that he would make him pay dearly for it before the day was done, even if he were compelled to seize him up and flog him himself.

The stretcher was soon ready, and the armourer having been placed upon it, was carried as carefully as possible down to the boat. As the procession passed the shipyard Lance beckoned to Captain Staunton, saying—

"I shall need your assistance in this case. It will be a case of amputation unless I am greatly mistaken, and if so, I shall require the help of someone upon whose nerve I can depend."

Captain Staunton, upon this, hurried back for his coat, and rejoined Lance just as the party was on the point of embarking in the boat. As the men propelled the craft swiftly across the bay Lance related in a loud tone to the skipper Ralli's behaviour during the morning, and his threat. They were still discussing the matter anxiously together when Dickinson, who was pulling stroke-oar, and who doubtless guessed from catching a stray word or two what was the subject of their conversation, broke in upon their conference by inquiring of Lance whether he thought the armourer would recover.

"It is impossible to say yet," answered Lance cautiously. "Of course we shall do our best for him, poor fellow, but he will require more attention than I fear Ralli will allow me to give him."

"If that's all," remarked Dickinson, "I think you needn't trouble yourself, sir; the Greek knows too well what he's about to interfere with you when it comes to doctoring a hinjured man—a man as was hurt too all along of his own pride and obstinacy. And as to that other matter—the flogging, you know, sir—axing your pardon for speaking about it so plain, sir—don't you trouble yourself about that. He sha'n't lay a hand upon you while me and my mates can pervent it—shall he, mates?"

"No, that he sha'n't, bo'," was the eager answer.

"No, he sha'n't," coincided Dickinson. "We can't do much to help you, you see, sir," he added, "'cause, worse luck, we don't all think alike upon some things; but we've only got to say the word to the rest of the hands, and I knows as they won't hear of you bein' flogged. There isn't one of us but what respects you, sir, but what respects you gentlemen both, for that matter; you've always had a good word for everybody, and that goes a long way with sailors sometimes—further than a glass o' grog—and you may make your mind easy that the Greek won't be let to—to—you know what, sir."

"Thank you, Dickinson," said Lance with outstretched hand, "thank you with all my heart. You have relieved me of a heavy load of anxiety; for, to tell you the truth, I had quite made up my mind not to submit to the indignity; and if Ralli attempts to carry out his threat it will probably lead to precipitate action on our part, which at the present time would be simply disastrous."

"So 'twould, sir; so 'twould," agreed Dickinson. "You needn't say another word, sir; we understands. Only we'd like you to know sir— and this here's a very good opportunity for us to say it—that whenever the time comes you may reckon upon all hands of us in this here boat."

"How do you mean?" ejaculated Lance, considerably startled. "I really do not understand you."

"Oh, it's all right, sir," returned Dickinson cheerfully. "We warn't born yesterday, ne'er a one of us, and you don't suppose as we believes you've all settled down to stay here for the rest of your nateral lives, do you? Lord bless you, sir, we knows you must have got some plan in your heads for getting away out of this here hole; and the long and the short of it is this:—When you're ready to go, we're ready to lend you a hand, perviding you'll take us with you. We're sick and tired of this here cursed pirating business; we wants to get away out of it; and we've been talking it over—me and my mates—and we've made up our minds that you're sartain to be off one of these fine days, and we'd like to go with you, if you'll have us. We want to give the world another trial, and see if we can't end our days as honest men; ain't that it, mates?"

"Ay, ay, Bill; that's it and no mistake; you've put it to the gentlemen just exactly as we wanted it; what you says, we'll say, and whatever promises you makes we'll keep 'em; we wants another chance, and we hopes that if so be as these here gen'lemen are thinking of topping their booms out of this they'll just take us along with 'em," replied the man who was pulling the bow-oar, the others also murmuring an assent.

"But what makes you think we have an idea of effecting our escape? And how many others of you have the same opinion?" inquired Captain Staunton.

"Well, I don't know as I can rightly say what makes us think so; but we do," answered Dickinson. "P'raps it's because you've took things so quiet and cheerful like. As to how many more of us thinks the same as we do—why, I can't say, I'm sure. I've only spoke about it to some half a dozen or so that I knowed would be glad of a chance to leave, like myself."

"Well," said Captain Staunton after a pause, "I really do not think we can say anything to you, either one way or another, just now. What you have just said has been so utterly unexpected that we must have time to think and talk the matter over among ourselves; but I think we may perhaps be able to say something definite to you to-morrow in answer to your proposition. Don't you think so, Evelin?"

"I think so," answered Lance.

"Very well, then," said the skipper. "Let the matter rest until to- morrow, and we will then tell you our decision. In the meantime it must be understood that none of you say a word to anyone else upon the subject until you have our permission."

A promise to this effect was readily given by each of the men, and then the matter dropped, the boat shortly afterwards reaching the landing- place at the bottom of the bay.

The armourer was at once taken out of the boat and carried by Lance's directions up to the building in which he slept. The miserable man was by this time in a dreadfully exhausted condition; but on the arrival of the medicine-chest Lance mixed him a powerful stimulating draught, under the influence of which he revived so much that Evelin felt himself justified in attempting the operation of amputation. This, with Captain Staunton's assistance, was speedily and successfully performed; after which the patient was placed in his hammock, and Lance sat himself down near at hand, announcing his intention of watching by the poor fellow until next morning.

The operation successfully performed, Dickinson and his three companions returned to the shipyard, maintaining an animated and anxious consultation on the way. The result of this consultation was that when the four men resumed work they had a great deal to say—after answering numberless anxious inquiries as to the state of the wounded man—upon the subject of Ralli's treatment of Lance and his threat to flog him. They denounced this conduct as not only unjust but also impolitic to the last degree, dwelling strongly upon the unadvisability of offending a man so skilled as Lance in medicine and surgery, and impressing their audience with the necessity for discouraging—and, if necessary, interfering to prevent—the carrying out of the threat.

And as sailors are very much like sheep—where one jumps the rest jump also—they had not much difficulty in arranging for a general demonstration of popular disapproval in the event of Ralli's attempting the threatened indignity. Fortunately for himself—fortunately also in all probability for those in whom we are chiefly interested—he allowed the affair to pass over; in going about among the workers that day he overheard enough to feel assured that, for the moment at all events, he was an unpopular man, and as among such turbulent spirits as those with whom he had to deal, unpopularity means loss of power, his own common sense suggested to him the extreme impolicy of pitting himself against them while they continued in so antagonistic a mood. But he was quite resolved that if he could not have in one way what he called his "revenge," he would have it in another; and from that day forward his insolence and tyranny of demeanour toward Lance and his friends grew more and more marked, until at length it became so unbearable that they were driven to the very verge of desperation.

Meanwhile Lance, sitting there watching his patient, soon saw that he was about to have his hands full. The hectic flush of fever began to chase away the deadly pallor from the sufferer's cheek; his eyes glittered and sparkled like coals of fire; and as feeling began to return to his hitherto benumbed limbs, and the smart of his recent operation made itself felt, he tossed restlessly in his hammock, tormented with an unquenchable thirst.

"Water! water!" he muttered. "For the love of God give me water!"

Lance gave him some in a tin pannikin. In an instant the vessel was glued to the unfortunate man's lips, and in another instant it was drained to the last drop.

"More—give me more," he gasped, as soon as he had recovered his breath.

But this Lance declined to do. Bidding the poor fellow be patient for a few minutes, he went to the medicine-chest and mixed him a cooling draught. This also was swallowed with avidity; and then the armourer lay quiet for a few minutes. Not for long, however; he soon began to toss restlessly about once more; and by the time that the hands returned from their day's work at the shipyard he was in a raging fever—raving mad in fact; and Lance was at last compelled to have him laced up in his hammock to prevent him from doing himself a serious injury.

Lance Evelin will probably remember that night as long as he lives. In the delirium of the fierce fever which consumed him the unhappy armourer was visited by visions of all the evil deeds of his past life; and Lance's blood curdled in his veins as he listened to his patient's disjointed ravings of murder, rapine, and cold-blooded cruelty of so revolting a character that he wondered how any human mind could conceive it in the first instance, and how, after it had been conceived, human hands could bring themselves to perpetrate it. And then the man's guilty conscience awakened from its long torpor, and, acting upon his excited imagination, conjured up a thousand frightful punishments awaiting him. He writhed, he groaned, he uttered the most frightful curses, and then, in the same breath shrieked for forgiveness and mercy. It was perfectly appalling; even his comrades—those who had shared with him in the dreadful deeds about which he raved—found the scene too trying for their hardened and blunted feelings; and such of them as had their hammocks slung in the same dormitory abandoned them and slept in the open air rather than remain to have their souls harrowed by his dreadful utterances.

This terrible state of things existed until the afternoon of the following day—rather more than twenty-four hours after he had received his injuries—and then the fever subsided, but only to leave the once powerful man in the last stage of exhaustion. So completely prostrate was he that he had no power to so much as lift his hand, and he was only able to speak in the merest whisper. Now was the time when all Lance's skill was most urgently required. Fagged as he was by his long night of watching, he tended his patient with the most unremitting assiduity, administering tonics and stimulants every few minutes; and racking his brain for devices by which he might help the man to tide over this period of extreme prostration. But it was all of no avail; the poor fellow gradually sank into a state of stupor from which all Evelin's skill was unable to arouse him; and at length, about eight o'clock in the evening, after a temporary revival during which all the terrors of death once more assailed him, his guilty soul passed away without opportunity for repentance; prayers and curses issuing from his lips in horrible confusion up to the last moment of his existence. His death was witnessed by several of his companions in crime; and, while some tried to laugh and scoff away the unwelcome impression which the scene produced upon their minds, there were others who went into the open air and wandered away by themselves to ponder upon this miserable ending of a crime-stained life.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ALARM AND DISASTER.

Lance's long and fatiguing watch beside the death-bed of the unfortunate armourer of course delayed to some extent Captain Staunton's reply to the suggestion which Dickinson had made on behalf of himself and certain of his comrades. But the skipper had, to save time, discussed the matter with the rest of the party, coming to the conclusion that they would be quite justified, under the circumstances, in accepting the services of these men; and on the morning following the armourer's death—Lance having enjoyed a good night's rest—his opinion was taken upon the question, with the view of giving the men an answer forthwith.

Evelin listened attentively to everything that was said; and then remarked—

"Well, gentlemen, I quite agree with you that the assistance which the men have it in their power to afford us would be most valuable; it would clear away a good many of our difficulties and would go a long way toward ensuring success in our endeavour to escape—an endeavour which I must confess I have always secretly regarded with a considerable amount of doubt and misgiving. It has always presented itself to me as an undertaking of a decidedly desperate character; and now it appears more so than ever, having regard to the very disagreeable change in Ralli's treatment of us. The only question in my mind is one of duty—duty to our country and to the world at large. We must not forget that the men who now come to us with offers of assistance are men who have, in the past, outraged every law, human and divine; and justice demands that they shall be delivered up to punishment. Now, if we accept their services we certainly cannot afterwards denounce them; it would be rank treachery on our part. How do you propose to overcome this difficulty?"

"We have thought of that," replied Captain Staunton; "it is the only question which has bothered us; and, for my own part, I can only see one solution of it. No word has, it is true, been said by them as to our keeping their secret, but I think there can be no doubt that such a stipulation was intended to be understood; and in any case I fully agree with you that we cannot justly avail ourselves of their assistance and afterwards hand them over to the authorities. My view of the case is this. Here we are, in what is beyond all doubt a most desperate scrape. A chance—and a very slight chance it is—offers for our escape, and most opportunely these men come forward with an offer of assistance. If we let slip this slight chance it is extremely doubtful whether we shall ever have another; and that, I imagine—taking into account the future possibilities of evil in store for the helpless women dependent upon us—counts for something, and justifies us is accepting help from almost any source. Then, as regards the men themselves. It is undoubtedly true that they have committed crimes which place them quite outside the pale of human mercy, if justice alone is to be considered. But for my own part I believe that they have repented of their past misdeeds—at any rate they say so, and we have no reason to doubt the truth of their assertion. They ask for an opportunity to reform; they desire a chance of making amends, as far as possible, for the past evil of their lives; and I have an idea, gentlemen, that though, in giving them such a chance, we might not be acting in accordance with man's idea of strict justice, we should be following pretty closely upon God's idea of it. He breaks not the bruised reed nor quenches the smoking flax; and if He thus declares his readiness to give even the most doubtful and unpromising of His creatures another trial, I really do not see that we are called upon to be more strict than He is. My proposal, therefore, is that we should accept these men's proffered assistance; that we should do what we may be able to do for them in the way of giving them the opportunity they desire; and if justice is to overtake them—if punishment is to follow their past misdeeds, let it be due to some other agencies than ours. If God intends them to suffer punishment at the hands of their fellow-creatures, He will provide the instruments, never fear. But I think it far more likely He will give them another chance."

"I, too, believe He will," said Lance. "You take a view of the matter which I confess with shame had not presented itself to me, and I am convinced. These men have committed crimes of exceptional enormity, it is true; but it is not for us to draw the line—to say to whom mercy shall be granted and from whom it shall be withheld; therefore let us accept their offer, and leave the matter of their punishment in God's hands."

Thus, then, it was decided; and Bob—as the least likely to excite suspicion if seen in conversation with any of the pirates—was deputed to inform Dickinson that his offer and that of his mates' had been accepted, and to request him to call—without exciting observation, if possible—at the cottage that evening.

When the gentlemen returned home at the close of the day's work, they found Blanche and Violet in a state of considerable nervous excitement, owing, they asserted, to their having been frightened that day while at their work of gold-collecting in the cavern. On being asked for a detailed account of the circumstance which had alarmed them, Violet said—

"We had been at work about two hours, and had just reached the edge of the gulf with our second load, when we were startled by hearing somewhere near us a sound like a deep long-drawn sigh, followed almost immediately afterwards by a loud moan. I have no doubt you will think us dreadful cowards, but it is no use concealing the truth—we simply dropped the gold and flew back along the passage to the great cavern at our utmost speed. Arrived there, we sat down to recover ourselves, and at length succeeded so far that we were both inclined to believe we had been victimised by our own imaginations—you know what an eerie place it is, and how likely to excite weird fancies in the minds of nervous timid women like ourselves. So we summoned up all our courage and went to work once more. We naturally felt somewhat reluctant to visit the scene of our fright again; but we overcame the feeling and made our third journey to the chasm without experiencing any further shock to our nerves. On our fourth journey, however, we had reached the place, deposited our load, and had just set out to return when the same sounds were repeated, much more loudly than at first, and accompanied this time by a loud prolonged hiss such as I should imagine could proceed only from some gigantic serpent. We were thoroughly terrified this time, and fled once more, not only to the cavern but thence into the open air, and home. I do not know how we may regard the matter in the morning; but at present I really do not feel as though I could ever venture into the place again until the mystery has been solved and the cause of those terrifying sounds discovered."

"Of course not," said Captain Staunton. "None of you must attempt to visit the cavern again until we have had an opportunity of investigating the matter. It is possible—though, mind you, I don't think it at all probable—that a serpent or large reptile of some kind may have made its way into the gallery. And, at all events, it will never do for you ladies to run the slightest risk. What do you think, Evelin?" he added, turning to Lance. "Is it likely that there may be a snake or something of the sort there?"

"Not likely, I should say," responded Lance; "we have never encountered a reptile of any description, large or small, in the course of our rambles about the island. But of course there is just the bare possibility—I cannot put it any stronger than that—of a snake drifting here on an uprooted tree or large branch. I have heard of snakes being seen in the branches of trees drifting down rivers in flood-time, and there is no reason why, under such circumstances, they should not be carried clear out to sea. Whether, however, a serpent could exist long enough to make the voyage from the mainland to this island is, in my opinion, exceedingly doubtful. Still, I quite agree with you that the ladies ought not to make any further visits to the cavern until we have discovered the source of their alarm."

This singular circumstance gave rise to a considerable amount of speculation among the members of the party; and they were still discussing the matter when a knocking was heard at the door, and, in obedience to Captain Staunton's stentorian "Come in," Dickinson entered.

"Sarvent, ladies," exclaimed the new-comer with an elaborate sea-scrape. Then, seating himself in the chair which Captain Staunton indicated, he continued, "Well, cap'n, and gentlemen all, I've just comed up, you see, in obedience to your commands of the forenoon sent through the young gentleman there"—pointing to Bob—"and to talk matters over as it were."

"That's all right, Dickinson," answered Captain Staunton; "we are very glad to see you. Robert of course told you that we have decided to accept the assistance of yourself and such of your shipmates as are to be thoroughly relied upon?"

"He did, sir; and right glad and thankful I was to hear it," replied Dickinson. "Of course we knowed right well, sir, how much we was axing of you when we offered to chime in on your side. We was just axing that you'd take us upon trust as it were, and believe in the honesty and straight-for'ard-ness of men as had proved theirselves to be rogues and worse. But you've took us, sir, and you sha'n't have no cause to repent it; we're yours, heart and soul; hence-for'ard we takes our orders from you, and we're ready to take any oath you like upon it."

"No oath is necessary, my good fellow," said Captain Staunton; "your bare word is quite sufficient, for if you intend to be faithful to us you will be so without swearing fidelity; and if you mean to betray us an oath would hardly stop you, I am afraid. But we do not doubt your fidelity in the least; the only thing we have any fear about is your prudence."

"Ah, yes; there sir, we may fail," said Dickinson with a mournful shake of the head. "But you give your orders, sir, and we'll do our best to obey 'em. But afore you lays your plans I think you ought to know how things is standing among us just now. I'm greatly afeared you're like so many young bears—with all your troubles afore you. That Greek rascal, Ralli, has been doin' his best to stir up all hands of us against you—and particler against you, Mr Evelin—by saying as it was all along of you as the poor armourer lost his life. He holds as how you killed him by taking off his legs, and that you desarves to be severely punished for doing of it; and there's some of the chaps as is fools enough to listen to what he says and to believe it too. But there's me and Tom Poole and two or three more—we're going to hold out to it that you did the best you could for the poor chap; and that if it hadn't ha' been for Ralli's own obstinacy the man wouldn't never have been hurt at all. And, however the thing goes, you may depend upon me to give you timely warning."

"Thank you, Dickinson," said Captain Staunton. "This information which you have just given us is most valuable, and renders it all the more necessary that we should promptly mature our plans. Now, to show you how thoroughly we trust you, I will explain those plans as far as we have yet arranged them; you can then tell us what you think of them; and you will also be better able to understand in what way you and your shipmates can prove of most use to us."

"Well, if that don't beat all!" exclaimed Dickinson, after Captain Staunton had stated their plans. "To think as you should go for to arrange to run away with the schooner herself! Why, I thought the most you'd do would be to provision and seize the launch, and go off to sea in her, taking your chance of being picked up some time or another. Well, there ain't a soul amongst us, I knows, as has so much as the ghost of a hidee about your taking the schooner. Some of the hands seems to have a kind of notion—I've found out since I spoke to you t'other day—that you may try to slip off some day if you gets the chance; but they just laughs at it you know, and asks how you're to manage, and how far you'd get in a boat afore the schooner'd be alongside of you, and that-like. But your plan's the right one, cap'n—no mistake about that. And now, just say what you want us chaps to do, and we'll do it if it's any way possible."

"How many of you are there?" asked the skipper. "How many, I mean, upon whom we can absolutely depend. Bear in mind that no one who is not thoroughly trustworthy is to be let into the secret."

"All right, sir; you trust me for that," answered Dickinson. "For my own sake—letting alone yours and the ladies'—you may depend on't I won't let out the secret to the wrong people. Well; let me just reckon up how many of us there'll be in all. Firstly there's eight of you, counting in Mr Bowles and Kit, and leaving out the ladies. Then there's the three other lads and the four men as was brought in with you, that's seven—seven and eight's—"

"Fifteen," interjected the skipper.

"Thank'ee, sir, I ain't much of a hand at figgers myself, but in course you're right—fifteen it is," said Dickinson. "Then there's me and Tom Poole—that's my pertickler mate—promoted he is to the armourer's berth—and Dick Sullivan and Ned Masters—that's four more, making fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—nineteen, ain't it, sir?"

"Quite right," answered Captain Staunton.

"Then there's the prisoners, as we calls 'em—men, you know, sir, as has been took out of ships and wouldn't jine the 'Brotherhood'—I won't say much about them just yet, but there's about half a dozen very likely hands among 'em that I think'll just jump at the chance of getting out of this. Tom and me'll sound 'em cautious like, and hear what they've got to say for theirselves."

"Very well," said Captain Staunton. "And in the meantime it seems that there are nineteen of us, all told, who are to be absolutely relied upon—quite enough to handle the schooner if we can only manage to get away with her. Now, what we have to do is this. The ballast and the water-tanks are already fixed in their places, so that need not trouble us; but we must contrive to get the tanks filled as early as possible. Then, as soon as the decks are laid we must get conveyed on board all the provisions we can possibly manage. Then we shall want arms and ammunition; the guns too must be hoisted in, under the pretence of fitting the slides properly. The spars are already commenced. They, or at least the lower-masts and bowsprit, must be stepped before the craft is launched; that can easily be managed, I think; the other spars also should be finished and got on board as early as possible, and likewise the sails. There are the stores of every kind also to be got on board— in short, I should like to have the craft in a state of readiness to go to sea directly she leaves the stocks. But I really don't see how it is to be managed; we shall never be able to do a quarter of what we want without arousing Ralli's suspicions."

"Oh, bless you, sir! yes, you will," said Dickinson confidently. "Ralli's taken a mortal dislike to you all, and 'specially to Mr Evelin,—sorry I am to say so,—and he just hates to be dictated to. Now, whatever you want, just let Mr Evelin tell him he ought to do the opposite of it, and, take my word for it, he'll just go and do exactly what he thinks you don't want him to; he'll do it out of sheer contrariness. But, whether or no, now that we knows what's wanted, we— that's me and my mates—we'll do as much of it as we can, and you'll have to manage Ralli so's to get the rest."

"Very well, Dickinson," said the skipper, "we understand each other fully now, so I will not detain you any longer. Do what you can to forward the plan, and let us know from time to time what success you are meeting with."

"All right, sir, I will; thank'ee, sir. Good-night, ladies and gentlemen all."

And Dickinson, taking the hint, retired.

The gentlemen sat for an hour or two after that, talking over matters as they smoked their pipes, and then Captain Staunton, Lance, and Bowles rose and left the cottage to pay a visit to the cavern.

In due time they reached the place, proceeding at once to the chasm, where they forthwith commenced a vigorous but unsuccessful search for the origin of the mysterious sounds which had disturbed the ladies. Finding nothing, they began their task of conveying the gold collected that day across to the heap on the other side of the gulf. This heap was now assuming goodly proportions. There was more of it than an ordinary ship's boat could take at a single trip, even in the calmest of weather; and Lance was in the act of remarking to Captain Staunton that he thought enough had now been collected to satisfy their every want, when a weird, unearthly moan smote upon their ears from the depths of the abyss. The sound, though not particularly loud, was so startling, echoing and reverberating, as it did, among the cavernous recesses far below, that the work was brought to a sudden standstill, and the three bewildered men felt their hair bristling as they listened.

"What, in Heaven's name, can it be?" ejaculated the skipper as he turned his startled gaze upon Lance.

"Impossible to say," answered the latter. "One thing, however, is certain; no human lungs could possibly give utterance to such a sound. And yet I don't know; the echoes of the place may have the property of magnifying and prolonging it. Hillo, there! is there anyone below?" he continued, raising his torch aloft and peering with craned neck down into the black depths of the chasm.

There was no response. And the light of the torch was quite inadequate to the illumination of more than a few feet from the surface.

"It is possible that, if there is anyone down there, he may be unable to hear me. Sound rises, you know. Here, Bowles, come across to this side. We will unite our voices and see if that will evoke any response," said Lance.

Bowles scrambled nimbly along the narrow and dangerous pathway, which, having traversed it so often, now had no terrors for any of them, and speedily joined the others.

"Now," said Lance, "I will count three, and then we will all shout together, 'Hillo!' One, two, three—Hillo!"

The cry went pealing away right and left of them along the dark gallery, the echoes taking it up and tossing it wildly from side to side, up and down, until it seemed as though every rock in the vast cavern had found a voice with which to mock them; but no answering cry came from below.

"There is no one there," said Lance. "Indeed there can be no one there; nobody has been missed, and—"

"Hark! what was that?"

A long-drawn sobbing sigh, such as a child will utter after it has cried itself to sleep, but very much louder; and immediately afterwards a gust of hot air, which brought with it a distinct odour of sulphur, swept past them down the gallery.