He had brought out a large metal tinder-box--but empty; and in his fit
of distraction let it fall. She shrieked as if she had been stung. The
nerves of even stout-hearted girls soon yield to blackness, to the
association of strange invisible men, and to the probability of a
frightful fate. He laughed to encourage her, said what the thing was,
and groped and picked it up. She took him to the steps, felt with her
foot, and said, 'Feel for yourself. The trap-door is immediately
overhead.'
'Well, if we mean to preserve our lives,' said the man--'and God knows
how sorry I am that you should be here sharing my imbecile fate--we must
walk to that round hole yonder, and keep a smart look-out on the sands
below. But I'll try first if this stone can be lifted by shoving.'
He left her and got upon the short set of steps, and strained with his
hands. He could not bring his shoulder to bear. In vain. He toiled and
groaned. He came down, and feeling for her, said, 'No; the sight-seers
have made it easy from above; but it is not easy to thrust up from
under, and if I were twenty men I could not do it with my hands in that
narrow circumference.'
'Let's walk to that hole,' said the girl, hooking him. 'It is our only
chance.'
'Another sight-seer may descend,' said he.
'Few dream of booty in this age,' she answered. 'It is pretty well
known,' she continued, 'that all are dry bones here.'
They gained the orifice. It framed a noble picture of Channel ocean
afternoon. The seas ridged in glittering ranks, smoke burst from their
curtseying heads, and they raced in groans upon the hidden beach
beneath, whitening out back to half a mile of foam. Ships were in sight,
blowing upwards, blowing downwards, rendered somewhat prismatic in the
airy lens of that smuggler's window. The tide was making fast, and they
could see nothing but white water.
'Look at that,' cried the man, pointing down.
The shuddering girl drew a foot or two closer, and peered below. 'There
is no escape!' she exclaimed.
Now they looked at each other. The girl has been described. The man was
the sailorly-looking fellow you would expect to see in him, after his
confession of his calling. The light shone very well here, and sank for
a distance of twenty or thirty feet into the gloom, then went out in
utter suddenness into black blankness. Miss Conway saw standing beside
her a man of about thirty years of age. He was dressed in the style of
the day when Peace had newly lighted on the land, when the billows of
our home waters were no longer vexed by the keels of contending
cruisers, nor by their thunder. He was decidedly handsome. Hair cut
short behind. He had lost his hat, and she could see that his hair in
front was bushy and plentiful, coming over the forehead in the 'fine'
style of that age. He had very striking features, but they looked ashen
and sunken now. He bowed to the young lady when their gaze met, and
said, raising his hand--
'You perceive I have lost my hat.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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