Adventure stories; Islands -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Love stories; Science fiction; South Pacific Ocean -- Fiction
"Jove," said Amory, trying to row and adjust his pince-nez at the
same time, "Chillingworth will never forgive us for missing that."
"You couldn't have done it," shouted Little Cawthorne derisively,
from the deck of the yacht, "you didn't wear your rubbers. If
anybody sticks a knife in you send up a r-r-r-ocket!"
The landing, effected with the utmost caution, was upon a flat
stone already a few inches submerged by the rising tide. Looking up
at the jagged, beetling world above them their task appeared
hopeless enough. But Jarvo found footing in an instant, and St.
George and Amory pressed closely behind him, Rollo and little Akko
silently bringing up the rear and carrying the oil-skins. Slowly and
cautiously as they made their way it was but a few minutes until the
three standing on the deck, and Barnay open-mouthed in the dory, saw
the sinuous line of the five bodies twist up the tortuous course
considerably above the blazoned emblem of the White Blade.
In truth, with Jarvo to set light foot where no foot seemed ever
before to have been set, with Jarvo to inspect every twig and pebble
and to take sharp turns where no turn seemed possible, the ascent,
perilous as it was, proved to be no such superhuman feat as from
below it had appeared. But it seemed interminable. Even when the sea
lay far beneath them and the faces of the watchers on the deck of
_The Aloha_ were no longer distinguishable, the grim wall continued
to stretch upward, melting into the sky's late blue.
The afterglow laid a fair path along the water, and the warm dusk
came swiftly out of the east. At snail's pace, now with heads bent
to knees, now standing erect to draw themselves up by the arms or to
leap a wicked-looking crevice, the four took their way up the black
side of the rock. Birds of the cliffs, disturbed from long rest,
wheeled and screamed about them, almost brushing their faces with
long, fearless wings. There was an occasional shelf where, with
backs against the wall spotted with crystals of feldspar, they
waited to breathe, hardly looking down from the dizzy ledge. Great
slabs of obsidian were piled about them between stretches of
calcareous stone, and the soil which was like beds of old lava
covered by thin layers of limestone, was everywhere pierced by sharp
shoulders of stone lying in savage disarray. Gradually rock-slides
and rock-edges yielded a less insecure footing on the upper reaches,
but the chasms widened and water dripping from lateral crevasses
made the vague trail slippery and the occasional earth sodden and
treacherous. For a quarter of a mile their way lay over a kind of
porous gravel into which their feet sank, and beyond at the summit
of a ridge Jarvo halted and threw back to them a summary warning to
prepare for "a long leap." A sharp angle of rock, jutting out, had
been split down the middle by some ancient force--very likely a
Paleozoic butterfly had brushed it with its wing--and the edges had
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account