Leaves from a middy's log

Some considerable time must have passed before my senses returned to me. When I opened my eyes again in a scared way, wondering whether or not I was in the midst of an extremely disagreeable dream, I found myself lying on my back on the floor of the cavern; which latter seemed strangely dim and dark, rendering it very difficult to distinguish anything. My head ached terribly, and I think I groaned aloud as the remembrance of late events came crowding into my mind.

“Hush!” was suddenly uttered in low friendly tones coming out of the semi-darkness around me; “be as quiet as possible, and I’ll try to give you some water.”

With astonishment and relief I recognized the voice of Mr. Triggs.

What was he doing here, and where were all our captors gone? The cave seemed buried in silence as well as in gloom.

I endeavoured to raise myself, and quickly realized that my arms were still confined by the cruel rope lashings. Like arrows through my temples shot agonizing neuralgic pains. Was my brain on fire? It felt uncommonly like it. My throat and lips, too, were dry and parched with feverish thirst, and my tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of my mouth.

And now the gunner’s friendly face came peering through the darkness as he bent over me.

“Keep up your pecker, Mr. Darcy,” he said soothingly; “’tain’t no use giving way. There is a pannikin of water here close to your head, and I want you to screw yourself round a bit and try to get a drink from it. I can’t assist you, worse luck, for my arms are bound too.”

Water! The very notion brought back with a rush the vitality which was at such a low ebb in my system. I was dying for a drink of water.

It seemed to cost me little or no effort now to raise myself, and I turned over upon my side and recognized the pannikin of which the gunner had spoken. Crawling over the short space which separated me from it, I plunged my face into the cool refreshing liquid and lapped greedily like a dog.

It was fresh life to me as far as actual strength of body was concerned, but it did not abate the pains in my head, which were still intense.

The gunner was kneeling near me. I could now distinguish objects more distinctly, but the only source of illumination in the cave, as far as I could see, was one flickering sputtering torch, and this was dimly flaring away at the farthest extremity of the great rock-chamber. The ghostly light fell weirdly on Mr. Triggs’s strongly-marked features and crouching figure. I noticed that he was looking pale, worn, and anxious. When he saw me glance at him, however, he tried to smile encouragingly.

My eyes roamed around the great deserted cavern with a puzzled expression. Surely it was all a dream! Where was the gang of shouting and yelling desperadoes, the chief, the mule-driver? Ha! where was my brave and faithful coxswain, Ned Burton? When I had last seen him—

The gunner divined my thoughts.

“I must explain everything hurriedly,” he said in a low rapid voice, “for at any moment that swab of a chief and his men may return. First with regard to Ned Burton. I’m thankful to say the brave fellow lies sleeping over yonder in the dark shadow of that projecting corner. Don’t you see him?”

I glanced hurriedly at the spot indicated by Mr. Triggs, and now that my eyes had got more accustomed to the peculiar light, managed to discern a dark, huddled-up, human form.

“But were not those cruel brutes going to flog him?” I falteringly asked; “or was it only the beginning of a dreadful dream?”

“They did flog him, poor chap,” answered the gunner, in tones which shook with emotion; “but Ned bore it like a man. Not a sound escaped his lips during the punishment, and he did not faint. I’ve been to him and given him some water, and he is now happily asleep. Of course his back is in a terrible state, but he declares it will be all right in a few days. I feel sure, however, that he is very much exhausted.”

“What a mercy that he can sleep!” I said. “But tell me, Mr. Triggs, what has become of our captors?”

“They were hastily summoned away by a messenger,” answered the gunner, “a man who seemed breathless and nearly exhausted, as if he had run for a very long distance without stopping to rest. The whole gang then hurriedly seized their weapons, extinguished all the torches except the one you see there, and rushed tumultuously out of the cave by an entrance which was visible to me where I lay. Half a dozen men, however, remain on guard just outside, and may enter the cave at any moment. They have not done so yet, however, and are, I think, in too excited a state to pay much attention to us, besides—”

“Then can’t we escape?” I asked impetuously. “Is there no other exit—the way we came in, for instance?”

The gunner shook his head dolefully.

“Whilst our arms are bound we’re helpless,” he answered; “if they were only free, we’d make a dash for liberty. I’ve hurriedly examined the flight of steps by which we entered, and I’ve found that the opening to the outer air is securely closed by an iron door. You may depend upon it that every possible precaution against our escaping has been taken by these villains, for they’ve got their wits about ’em.”

“I expect that Beddoes and the rest of the detachment are on their trail,” I said, “and that is what caused them such alarm. Perhaps we shall be rescued sooner than we think.”

“I hardly think so,” said the gunner dubiously, “for I’m certain that the messenger had travelled a long distance.”

“Then perhaps the main body have got an inkling that something has gone wrong,” I suggested; “Beddoes may have sent a message to Mr. Thompson asking him to push up his forces.”

“There hasn’t been time for all that, Mr. Darcy, when you come to think of it. I shouldn’t say it was more than nine o’clock now, if so much. No, ’tis a mysterious business altogether, and I can’t make head or tail of it, and that’s the truth.”

“You don’t think, Mr. Triggs, that they mean to murder us?”

“Make your mind easy about that, lad. The ghastly deed would have been done before this, I reckon, if they had resolved upon foul play. What their little game is I can’t for the life of me say. ’Tis a plot I’d like to unravel, I can tell you, but I’m all in the dark—all in the dark.”

“I don’t believe that they’re insurgents at all,” I said; “they look for all the world like a gang of—”

“Mum’s the word!” interrupted Mr. Triggs, scrambling nimbly to his feet; “I hear the swabs coming back.” And so saying he took to his heels, and in a moment had disappeared around a projecting part of the cavern wall.

I heard the subdued buzz of many voices speaking in the distance, and felt a cold shiver go down my back. Then came the sound of many shuffling footfalls, the clang of weapons, and the louder tones of an excited troop of men. The guard that had been stationed outside rushed in to see that their prisoners were safe, and finding that we were in our respective corners, ran out again to meet their returning comrades. A few seconds later the whole gang came straggling into the cavern, threw themselves on the ground, and began talking rapidly in what I believed was a patois peculiar to themselves. The chief did not appear to be with them.

A few minutes later I was thankful to see some preparations made for supper, for I was ravenously hungry, and should have eaten heartily of a monkey pie or devilled crocodile at that moment. No fire was lit, but from some recess in the cave various comestibles were brought forth and placed on upturned cases and barrels. A few more torches had been lit, and though they were not enough to illuminate the cave properly, I could see distinctly what was going forward.

At this moment the chief, carrying his carbine over his shoulder, stalked in, followed closely by his immense dog, the latter—for some reason best known to himself—snarling and showing his long white fangs, whilst saliva dropped continuously from his heavy jowls. I had a mortal dread of this savage-looking animal, for I felt instinctively that if ever by good-fortune we should be enabled to make our escape from our present captors, the bloodhound would be put upon our trail to hunt us down. The reflection was a very disturbing one, and I strove to banish it, but in vain. Certainly no plan of escape seemed feasible, but a British midshipman is sanguine even when things look irretrievably dark, and, like the immortal Mr. Micawber, trusts that eventually something favourable will turn up.

The chief strode into the centre of the cavern and flung himself down on a pile of goatskins, his dog taking up a position at his feet, and keeping its eyes fixed upon those of its master. Its snarling now ceased, much to the relief of my overwrought nerves.

A man hurried forward to bring the leader some refreshment, and I was astonished to recognize in this servitor the mule-driver who had been the cause of Ned’s flogging. The reason I was astonished was that this fellow had completely changed his costume, and now wore the same nautical dress as the chief’s immediate followers.

I divined the truth at once. The cunning rascal had been told off to spy upon the movements of the naval brigade, and had enlisted as a camp-follower for that very purpose. On being relieved of his duties he had doubtless found some means of following us—himself unseen—and had been the actual moving spirit in the underhand arrangements for our capture; for he evidently owed allegiance to the chief, and was perfectly familiar with the life of the cavern.

Fresh sentries had been told off to guard us, and one or two of these fellows went off to procure us some food. By this time I was nearly fainting for want of nourishment. I glanced across to Ned’s corner, and fancied that he had been awoke by the noise in the cave, but I could not tell for certain.

Some sausage and coarse bread was brought to me on an earthenware platter, and my arms were unbound that I might eat, the sentries sitting down close to me with loaded pistols in their hands. As the reader may suppose, I ate ravenously and without stopping to consider what the sausage was made of; but I was very disappointed to see that Ned Burton was not disposing of his supper also. I quickly guessed the reason of this, however. It was evident that we were not all to be allowed to take our meals at the same time for fear of our making some desperate attempt at escape whilst our arms were free. Perhaps on the whole this was a wise precaution.

When my hunger was satisfied I took another pull at the water pannikin, and began to feel more myself again. Inferior as the food was, it instilled new life into my veins and raised my spirits wonderfully. My head still ached painfully, and the muscles of my arms were terribly stiff and sore; but I felt convinced that no serious harm had accrued from the blow I had received on the head, and that was something to be very thankful for.

I should have liked to prolong my meal as much as possible so as to allow of the muscles and sinews of my arms regaining some of their ordinary elasticity; but I was afraid that my doing so would still further postpone my coxswain’s supper hour, so I finished off as quickly as possible, and submitted quietly to the indignity of having my arms bound again.

I had the great satisfaction a minute or two later of seeing Ned peg into his prison allowance as if he had not had anything to eat for a month. It was really a great relief to me, for I could not help feeling anxious as to the effect of the severe flogging he had so lately received at the hands of the mule-driver, for severe no doubt it had been. I could not see Ned’s face at all distinctly, as he was so much in the deep shadow, but I augured favourably from his apparently prodigious appetite.

My brief conversation with Mr. Triggs recurred to my memory as I lay ruminating upon the floor of the cave. The gunner had pooh-poohed the idea that the chief had effected our capture with the notion of making away with us, founding his belief on the length of time that had elapsed since we had been taken prisoners. It appeared to me doubtful whether much importance could be attached to that. I knew that the gunner was considered a man of sound judgment; but it also occurred to me that he had already made one fatal mistake in endeavouring to make a reconnaissance in a hostile country with an inadequate force, and he might even now be making mistake number two, and deceiving himself egregiously.

Yet it seemed the most plausible explanation of our capture, that a demand for a heavy ransom would be made to the Spanish or the British Government—that is, supposing that the chief and his followers were simple bandits and nothing more; and for all I knew to the contrary, they might be. But then it occurred to me that even if a ransom were paid and we were released, the subsequent extermination of the whole band by the Spanish troops and an English naval brigade would be a comparatively easy matter. Would bandits allow themselves to run this terrible risk? Had their stronghold been situated in the midst of inaccessible mountains far from the haunts of man, the case would have been different; but this cave—

My ruminations were suddenly cut short at this point by the loud baying of the Cuban bloodhound, which had arisen from its crouching position and was alternately sniffing the air and glancing at its master. The next moment a messenger arrived in a breathless condition and handed a note to the chief.

The latter took the missive without uttering a word, tore it open, and quickly mastered the contents. Then he gave one or two short sharp words of command, in response to which all his followers leapt to their feet and busied themselves in preparations for an immediate departure.

I was thunderstruck at this sudden resolve on the part of the chief, and wondered what it portended. I calculated that it must now be somewhere about midnight, though I could not tell for certain.

My thoughts were suddenly turned into a still more disagreeable channel; for the chief stalked up to me, in company with his ferocious four-footed satellite, and made the latter deliberately smell me all over. This repellent couple then crossed over and went through the same performance with Ned Burton. Then they disappeared around a corner of the cavern, doubtless in search of Mr. Triggs. I am ashamed to say that I felt in mortal terror when that fierce-looking dog came and poked his great jowl and snout against me, as if in search of a nice tender place in which to bury his fangs. There could be no doubt as to the reason of this strange procedure. The dog was to be familiarized with our scent, so that in the event of his being put upon our trail he would follow it up with more bloodthirsty zest.

It gave one a “creepy” feeling to think of it!

The chief now came hurriedly striding back into the main part of the cavern again, and pointing first at me and then at Ned Burton, issued some order in his usual domineering manner.

Immediately we were seized, lifted upon our feet, and blindfolded.

It was evident that we were going to set off on a journey somewhere, and my heart sank within me at the thought; for not only was my poor head still racked with pain, but I felt terribly fatigued as well, and almost overcome with a strong desire to sleep.

In rasping tones the chief marshalled his men and enjoined silence upon them. Every voice was hushed, but I could clearly distinguish the heavy breathing of my bête noire, the Cuban bloodhound, as it followed its master about.

One hope animated me at this moment, and that was that the chief was about to beat a retreat in consequence of the advance of the naval brigade, and therefore that there was a chance of our being succoured ere long.

“Jim Beddoes must have given the alarm before this,” I muttered to myself, “and we shall soon be free again.”

We moved off almost at once, and I quite expected, from what Mr. Triggs had said, that we should immediately emerge into the open air; but to my surprise this was not so. No fresh air of heaven fanned my heated brows, and I did not stumble over stones and inequalities in the ground. I was impelled forward at a rapid pace, but it was quite evident that we were still underground. It was equally evident to me that we were following some narrow, dark, and tortuous passage. The flickering light of torches penetrated, to a certain extent, the bandage over my eyes, and I was gifted with a keen sense of smell, which revealed to me the fact that I was breathing the noxious atmosphere of an ill-ventilated subterranean tunnel charged with mephitic vapours. The footfalls of the men, as they trooped along, sounded hollow and unreal, as also did the occasional ring or clang of their weapons. Now and again the sound of water dripping over rocks smote upon my ears, and I heard the rush and gurgle of a stream—no doubt the one that had fed the cavern cascade—as it forced its way through some underground aqueduct of nature’s own making.

It was terribly tantalizing to be blindfolded.

The way seemed to me interminable. Once or twice I began to feel my head swim round; but I managed to pull myself together with a great effort, hoping every moment that we should emerge from the subterranean passage and be enabled to breathe pure air.

The idea occurred to me that it might be difficult, indeed, to discover the main entrance to the cavern if it was by such an approach as this, and one could hardly blame Jim Beddoes for not having discovered our prison. I felt sure that the gunner had been mistaken in thinking that he saw the mouth of the cave from where he lay, and I concluded that he had probably been deceived by the descent of the flood of light from some orifice overhead.

At length I began to breathe more freely. The mephitic vapours were gradually giving place to a purer atmosphere. It was like new life to me, and the feeling of faintness passed away. Still we seemed to wind along the tortuous tunnel. Still the measured tramp, and the reverberating echoes upon the rocky vault.

A low word of command issued by the chief; a halt; a whispered conference which appeared to last some time; a few hurried footfalls, and then a sound of some heavy obstruction being rolled back. I felt a sudden rush of cold night air. With what ecstatic delight did I draw it into my lungs, and feel it playing over my face and hair. My nerves were instantly braced up, and my head ached with less intensity.

Another order came from the chief, still in a low tone, as if he were fearful of being overheard.

Once more we moved forward, and then a strange thing happened. I was bent almost double by the men who were conducting me, and pushed through what seemed to be a small square orifice in the rocks.