The Wings of the Morning Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  THE SECRET OF THE CAVE

  The sailor went after those monkeys in a mood of relentless severity.Thus far, the regular denizens of Rainbow Island had dwelt together inpeace and mutual goodwill, but each diminutive wou-wou must be taughtnot to pull any strings he found tied promiscuously to trees or stakes.As a preliminary essay, Jenks resolved to try force combined withartifice. Failing complete success, he would endeavor to kill everymonkey in the place, though he had in full measure the inherent dislikeof Anglo-India to the slaying of the tree-people.

  This, then, is what he did. After filling a biscuit tin with good-sizedpebbles, he donned a Dyak hat, blouse, and belt, rubbed earth over hisface and hands, and proceeded to pelt the wou-wous mercilessly. Formore than an hour he made their lives miserable, until at the meresight of him they fled, shrieking and gurgling like a thousandwater-bottles. Finally he constructed several Dyak scarecrows anderected one to guard each of his alarm-guns. The device was thoroughlyeffective. Thenceforth, when some adventurous monkey--swinging withhands or tail among the treetops in the morning search for appetizingnut or luscious plantain--saw one of those fearsome bogies, he raisedsuch a hubbub that all his companions scampered hastily from theconfines of the wood to the inner fastnesses.

  In contriving these same scarecrows--which, by the way, he had vaguelyintended at first to erect on the beach in order to frighten theinvaders and induce them to fire a warning volley--the sailor paidcloser heed to the spoils gathered from the fallen. One, at least, ofthe belts was made of human hair, and some among its long strands couldhave come only from the flaxen-haired head of a European child. Thisfact, though ghastly enough, confirmed him in his theory that it wasimpossible to think of temporizing with these human fiends. Unhappilysuch savage virtues as they possess do not include clemency to the weakor hospitality to defenceless strangers. There was nothing for it but afight to a finish, with the law of the jungle to decide the terms ofconquest.

  That morning, of course, he had not been able to visit Summit Rockuntil after his cautious survey of the island. Once there, however, henoticed that the gale two nights earlier had loosened two of thesupports of his sky sign. It was not a difficult or a long job torepair the damage. With the invaluable axe he cut several wedges andsoon made all secure.

  Now, during each of the two daily examinations of the horizon which henever omitted, he minutely scrutinized the sea between Rainbow Islandand the distant group. It was, perhaps, a needless precaution. TheDyaks would come at night. With a favorable wind they need not set sailuntil dusk, and their fleet sampans would easily cover the interveningforty miles in five hours.

  He could not be positive that they were actual inhabitants of theislands to the south. The China Sea swarms with wandering pirates, andthe tribe whose animosity he had earned might be equally noxious tosome peaceable fishing community on the coast. Again and again hedebated the advisability of constructing a seaworthy raft andendeavoring to make the passage. But this would be risking all on afrightful uncertainty, and the accidental discovery of the Eagle's Nesthad given him new hope. Here he could make a determined and prolongedstand, and in the end help _must_ come. So he dismissed thenavigation project, and devoted himself wholly to the perfecting of thenatural fortress in the rock.

  That night they finished the rope-ladder. Indeed, Jenks was determinednot to retire to rest until it was placed _in situ_; he did notcare to try a second time to carry Iris to that elevated perch, and itmay be remarked that thenceforth the girl, before going to sleep,simply changed one ragged dress for another.

  One of the first things he contemplated was the destruction, ifpossible, of the point on the opposite cliff which commanded the ledge.This, however, was utterly impracticable with the appliances at hiscommand. The top of the rock sloped slightly towards the west, andnothing short of dynamite or regular quarrying operations would renderit untenable by hostile marksmen.

  During the day his Lee-Metfords, at ninety yards' range, might betrusted to keep the place clear of intruders. But at night--that wasthe difficulty. He partially solved it by fixing two rests on the ledgeto support a rifle in exact line with the center of the enemy'ssupposed position, and as a variant, on the outer rest he marked lineswhich corresponded with other sections of the entire front available tothe foe.

  Even then he was not satisfied. When time permitted he made manyexperiments with ropes reeved through the pulley and attached to arifle action. He might have succeeded in his main object had not histhoughts taken a new line. His aim was to achieve some method ofopening and closing the breech-block by means of two ropes. Thedifficulty was to secure the preliminary and final lateral movement ofthe lever bolt, but it suddenly occurred to him that if he could manageto convey the impression that Iris and he had left the island, theDyaks would go away after a fruitless search. The existence of ropesalong the face of the rock--an essential to his mechanicalscheme--would betray their whereabouts, or at any rate excite dangerouscuriosity. So he reluctantly abandoned his original design, though notwholly, as will be seen in due course.

  In pursuance of his latest idea he sedulously removed from the foot ofthe cliff all traces of the clearance effected on the ledge, and,although he provided supports for the tarpaulin covering, he did notadjust it. Iris and he might lie _perdu_ there for days withouttheir retreat being found out. This development suggested the necessityof hiding their surplus stores and ammunition, and what spot could bemore suitable than the cave?

  So Jenks began to dig once more in the interior, laboring manfully withpick and shovel in the locality of the fault with its vein of antimony.It was thus that he blundered upon the second great event of his life.

  Rainbow Island had given him the one thing a man prizes above allelse--a pure yet passionate love for a woman beautiful alike in bodyand mind. And now it was to endow him with riches that might stir thepulse of even a South African magnate. For the sailor, unmindful ofpurpose other than providing the requisite _cache_, shoveling anddelving with the energy peculiar to all his actions, suddenly struck adeep vein of almost virgin gold.

  To facilitate the disposal at a distance of the disturbed debris, hethrew each shovelful on to a canvas sheet, which he subsequentlydragged among the trees in order to dislodge its contents. After doingthis four times he noticed certain metallic specks in the fifth loadwhich recalled the presence of the antimony. But the appearance of thesixth cargo was so remarkable when brought out into the sunlight thatit invited closer inspection. Though his knowledge of geology wasslight--the half-forgotten gleanings of a brief course at Eton--he wasforced to believe that the specimens he handled so dubiously containedneither copper nor iron pyrites but glittering yellow gold. Theirweight, the distribution of the metal through quartz in a transitionstate between an oxide and a telluride, compelled recognition.

  Somewhat excited, yet half skeptical, he returned to the excavation andscooped out yet another collection. This time there could be nomistake. Nature's own alchemy had fashioned a veritable ingot. Therewere small lumps in the ore which would need alloy at the mint beforethey could be issued as sovereigns, so free from dross were they.

  Iris had gone to Venus's Bath, and would be absent for some time. Jenkssat down on a tree-stump. He held in his hand a small bit of ore worthperhaps twenty pounds sterling. Slowly the conjectures already piecedtogether in his mind during early days on the island came back to him.

  The skeleton of an Englishman lying there among the bushes near thewell; the Golgotha of the poison-filled hollow; the mining tools, bothChinese and European; the plan on the piece of tin--ah, the piece oftin! Mechanically the sailor produced it from the breast-pocket of hisjersey. At last the mysterious sign "32/1" revealed itssignificance. Measure thirty-two feet from the mouth of the tunnel, digone foot in depth, and you came upon the mother-lode of thisgold-bearing rock. This, then, was the secret of the cave.

  The Chinese knew the richness of the deposit, and exploited itstreasures by quarrying from the other side o
f the hill. But their crassignorance of modern science led to their undoing. The accumulation ofliberated carbonic acid gas in the workings killed them in scores. Theyprobably fought this unseen demon with the tenacity of their race,until the place became accursed and banned of all living things. Yethad they dug a little ditch, and permitted the invisible terror to flowquietly downwards until its potency was dissipated by sea and air, theymight have mined the whole cliff with impunity.

  The unfortunate unknown, J.S.--he of the whitened bones--might havedone this thing too. But he only possessed the half-knowledge of theworking miner, and whilst shunning the plague-stricken quarry, adoptedthe more laborious method of making an adit to strike the deposit. Hesucceeded, to perish miserably in the hour when he saw himself amillionaire.

  Was this a portent of the fate about to overtake the latest comers?Jenks, of course, stood up. He always, stood square on his feet whenthe volcano within him fired his blood.

  "No, by God!" he almost shouted. "I will break the spell. I am senthere by Providence, not to search for gold but to save a woman's life,and if all the devils of China and Malay are in league against me Iwill beat them!"

  The sound of his own voice startled him. He had no notion that he wasso hysterical. Promptly his British phlegm throttled the demonstration.He was rather ashamed of it.

  What was all the fuss about? With a barrow-load of gold he could notbuy an instant's safety for Iris, not to mention himself. The languagedifficulty was insuperable. Were it otherwise, the Dyaks would simplyhumbug him until he revealed the source of his wealth, and then murderhim as an effective safeguard against foreign interference.

  Iris! Not once since she was hurled ashore in his arms had Jenks solong forgotten her existence. Should he tell her? They were partners ineverything appertaining to the island--why keep this marvelousintelligence from her?

  Yet was he tempted, not ignobly, but by reason of his love for her.Once, years ago, when his arduous professional studies were distractedby a momentary infatuation for a fair face, a woman had proved ficklewhen tempted by greater wealth than he possessed. For long he was aconfirmed misogynist, to his great and lasting gain as a leader of men.But with more equable judgment came a fixed resolution not to marryunless his prospective bride cared only for him and not for hisposition. To a Staff Corps officer, even one with a small privateincome, this was no unattainable ideal. Then he met with his_debacle_ in the shame and agony of the court-martial. Whilst hissoul still quivered under the lash of that terrible downfall, Iris cameinto his life. He knew not what might happen if they were rescued. Thetime would quickly pass until the old order was resumed, she to go backto her position in society, he to become again a disgraced ex-officer,apparently working out a mere existence before the mast or handingplates in a saloon.

  Would it not be a sweet defiance of adversity were he able, even undersuch conditions, to win her love, and then disclose to her thepotentialities of the island? Perchance he might fail. Though rich asCroesus he would still be under the social ban meted out to a cashieredofficer. She was a girl who could command the gift of coronets. Withrestoration to her father and home, gratitude to her preserver wouldassuredly remain, but, alas! love might vanish like a mirage. Then hewould act honorably. Half of the stored wealth would be hers to do asshe chose with it.

  Yes, this was a possible alternative. In case of accident to himself,and her ultimate escape, he must immediately write full details of hisdiscovery, and entrust the document to her, to be opened only after hisdeath or six months after their release.

  The idea possessed him so thoroughly that he could brook no delay. Hesearched for one of the note-books taken from the dead officers of the_Sirdar_, and scribbled the following letter:

  "DEAR MISS DEANE:

  "Whether I am living or dead when you read these words, you will know that I love you. Could I repeat that avowal a million times, in as many varied forms, I should find no better phrase to express the dream I have cherished since a happy fate permitted me to snatch you from death. So I simply say, 'I love you.' I will continue to love you whilst life lasts, and it is my dearest hope that in the life beyond the grave I may still be able to voice my love for you.

  "But perhaps I am not destined to be loved by you. Therefore, in the event of my death before you leave the island, I wish to give you instructions how to find a gold mine of great value which is hidden in the rock containing the cave. You remember the sign on the piece of tin which we could not understand. The figure 32 denotes the utmost depth of the excavation, and the 1 signifies that one foot below the surface, on reaching the face of the rock, there is a rich vein of gold. The hollow on the other side of the cliff became filled with anhydrate gas, and this stopped the operations of the Chinese, who evidently knew of the existence of the mine. This is all the information the experts employed by Sir Arthur Deane will need. The facts are unquestionable.

  "Assuming that I am alive, we will, of course, be co-partners in the mine. If I am dead, I wish one-sixth share to be given to my uncle, William Anstruther, Crossthwaite Manor, Northallerton, Yorkshire, as a recompense for his kindness to me during my early life. The remainder is to be yours absolutely.

  "ROBERT ANSTRUTHER."

  He read this remarkable document twice through to make sure that itexactly recorded his sentiments. He even smiled sarcastically at theendowment of the uncle who disinherited him. Then, satisfied with theperusal, he tore out the two leaves covered by the letter and began todevise a means of protecting it securely whilst in Iris's possession.

  At that moment he looked up and saw her coming towards him across thebeach, brightly flushed after her bath, walking like a nymph clothed intattered garments. Perceiving that he was watching her, she waved herhand and instinctively quickened her pace. Even now, when they werethrown together by the exigencies of each hour, she disliked to be longseparated from him.

  Instantly the scales fell from his mental vision. What! Distrust Iris!Imagine for one second that riches or poverty, good repute or ill,would affect that loyal heart when its virginal font was filled withthe love that once in her life comes to every true woman! Perish thethought! What evil spirit had power to so blind his perception of allthat was strong and beautiful in her character. Brave, uncomplainingIris! Iris of the crystal soul! Iris, whose innocence and candor weremirrored in her blue eyes and breathed through her dear lips! Here wasOthello acting as his own tempter, with not an Iago within a thousandmiles.

  Laughing at his fantastic folly, Jenks tore the letter into littlepieces. It might have been wiser to throw the sheets into the embers ofthe fire close at hand, but for the nonce he was overpowered by thegreat awakening that had come to him, and he unconsciously murmured themusical lines of Tennyson's "Maud":

  "She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread. My heart would hear her and beat Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead, Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red."

  "Good gracious! Don't gaze at me in that fashion. I don't look like aghost, do I?" cried Iris, when near enough to note his rapt expression.

  "You would not object if I called you a vision?" he inquired quietly,averting his eyes lest they should speak more plainly than his tongue.

  "Not if you meant it nicely. But I fear that 'specter' would be a moreappropriate word. _V'la ma meilleure robe de sortie_!"

  She spread out the front widths of her skirt, and certainly theprospect was lamentable. The dress was so patched and mended, yet sofull of fresh rents, that a respectable housemaid would hesitate beforeusing it to clean fire-irons.

  "Is that really your best dress?" he said.

  "Yes. This is my blue serge. The brown cloth did not survive thesoaking it received in salt water. After a few days it simply crumbled.The others are muslin or cotton, and have been--er--adapted."

  "There is
plenty of men's clothing," he began.

  "Unfortunately there isn't another island," she said, severely.

  "No. I meant that it might be possible to--er--contrive some sort ofrig that will serve all purposes."

  "But all my thread is gone. I have barely a needleful left."

  "In that case we must fall back on our supply of hemp."

  "I suppose that might be made to serve," she said. "You are never at aloss for an expedient."

  "It will be a poor one, I fear. But you can make up for it by buyingsome nice gowns at Doucet's or Worth's."

  She laughed delightedly. "Perhaps in his joy at my reappearance my dearold dad may let me run riot in Paris on our way home. But that will notlast. We are fairly well off, but I cannot afford ten thousand a yearfor dress alone."

  "If any woman can afford such a sum for the purpose, you are at leasther equal."

  Iris looked puzzled. "Is that your way of telling me that fine featherswould make me a fine bird?" she asked.

  "No. I intend my words to be understood in their ordinary sense. Youare very, very rich, Miss Deane--an extravagantly wealthy youngperson."

  "Of course you know you are talking nonsense. Why, only the other daymy father said--"

  "Excuse me. What is the average price of a walking-dress from a leadingParis house?"

  "Thirty pounds."

  "And an evening dress?"

  "Oh, anything, from fifty upwards."

  He picked up a few pieces of quartz from the canvas sheet.

  "Here is your walking-dress," he said, handing her a lump weighingabout a pound. "With the balance in the heap there you can stagger thebest-dressed woman you meet at your first dinner in England."

  "Do you mean by pelting her?" she inquired, mischievously.

  "Far worse. By wearing a more expensive costume."

  His manner was so earnest that he compelled seriousness. Iris took theproffered specimen and looked at it.

  "From the cave, I suppose? I thought you said antimony was not veryvaluable?"

  "That is not antimony. It is gold. By chance I have hit upon anextremely rich lode of gold. At the most modest computation it is worthhundreds of thousands of pounds. You and I are quite wealthy people,Miss Deane."

  Iris opened her blue eyes very wide at this intelligence. It took herbreath away. But her first words betokened her innate sense of fairdealing.

  "You and I! Wealthy!" she gasped. "I am so glad for your sake, but tellme, pray, Mr. Jenks, what have _I_ got to do with it?"

  "You!" he repeated. "Are we not partners in this island? By squatter'sright, if by no better title, we own land, minerals, wood, game, andeven such weird belongings as ancient lights and fishing privileges."

  "I don't see that at all. You find a gold mine, and coolly tell me thatI am a half owner of it because you dragged me out of the sea, fed me,housed me, saved my life from pirates, and generally acted like adevoted nursemaid in charge of a baby. Really, Mr. Jenks--"

  "Really, Miss Deane, you will annoy me seriously if you say anotherword. I absolutely refuse to listen to such an argument."

  Her outrageously unbusiness-like utterances, treading fast on the heelsof his own melodramatic and written views concerning their property,nettled him greatly. Each downright syllable was a sting to hisconscience, but of this Iris was blissfully unaware, else she would nothave applied caustic to the rankling wound caused by his momentarydistrust of her.

  For some time they stood in silence, until the sailor commenced toreproach himself for his rough protest. Perhaps he had hurt hersensitive feelings. What a brute he was, to be sure! She was only achild in ordinary affairs, and he ought to have explained things morelucidly and with greater command over his temper. And all this timeIris's face was dimpling with amusement, for she understood him so wellthat had he threatened to kill her she would have laughed at him.

  "Would you mind getting the lamp?" he said softly, surprised to catchher expression of saucy humor.

  "Oh, please may I speak?" she inquired. "I don't want to annoy you, butI am simply dying to talk."

  He had forgotten his own injunction.

  "Let us first examine our mine," he said. "If you bring the lamp we canhave a good look at it."

  Close scrutiny of the work already done merely confirmed the accuracyof his first impressions. Whilst Iris held the light he opened up theseam with a few strokes of the pick. Each few inches it broadened intoa noteworthy volcanic dyke, now yellow in its absolute purity, at timesa bluish black when fused with other metals. The additional laborinvolved caused him to follow up the line of the fault. Suddenly theflame of the lamp began to flicker in a draught. There was anair-passage between cave and ledge.

  "I am sorry," cried Jenks, desisting from further efforts, "that I havenot recently read one of Bret Harte's novels, or I would speak to youin the language of the mining camp. But in plain Cockney, Miss Deane,we are on to a good thing if only we can keep it."

  They came back into the external glare. Iris was now so serious thatshe forgot to extinguish the little lamp. She stood with outstretchedhand.

  "There is a lot of money in there," she said.

  "Tons of it."

  "No need to quarrel about division. There is enough for both of us."

  "Quite enough. We can even spare some for our friends."

  He took so readily to this definition of their partnership that Irissuddenly became frigid. Then she saw the ridiculous gleam of the tinywick and blew it out.

  "I mean," she said, stiffly, "that if you and I do agree to go shareswe will each be very rich."

  "Exactly. I applied your words to the mine alone, of course."

  A slight thing will shatter a daydream. This sufficed. The sailorresumed his task of burying the stores.

  "Poor little lamp!" he thought. "When it came into the greater worldhow soon it was snuffed out."

  But Iris said to herself, "What a silly slip that was of mine! Enoughfor both of us, indeed! Does he expect me to propose to him? I wonderwhat the letter was about which he destroyed as I came back after mybath. It must have been meant for me. Why did he write it? Why did hetear it up?"

  The hour drew near when Jenks climbed to the Summit Rock. He shoulderedaxe and rifle and set forth. Iris heard him rustling upwards throughthe trees. She set some water to boil for tea, and, whilst bringing afresh supply of fuel, passed the spot where the torn scraps of paperlittered the sand.

  She was the soul of honor, for a woman, but there was never a woman yetwho could take her eyes off a written document which confronted her.She could not help seeing that one small morsel contained her own name.Though mutilated it had clearly read--Miss Deane."

  "So it _was_ intended for me!" she cried, throwing down her bundleand dropping to her knees. She secured that particular slip andexamined it earnestly. Not for worlds would she pick up all the scrapsand endeavor to sort them. Yet they had a fascination for her, and atthis closer range she saw another which bore the legend--"I love you!"

  Somehow the two seemed to fit together very nicely.

  Yet a third carried the same words--"I love you!" They were still quitecoherent. She did not want to look any further. She did not even turnover such of the torn pieces as had fluttered to earth face downwards.

  Opening the front of her bodice she brought to light a small goldlocket containing miniatures of her father and mother. Inside thisreceptacle she carefully placed the three really material portions ofthe sailor's letter. When Jenks walked down the hill again he heard hersinging long before he caught sight of her, sedulously tending thefire.

  As he came near he perceived the remains of his useless document. Hestooped and gathered them up, forthwith throwing them among the glowinglogs.

  "By the way, what were you writing whilst I had my bath?" inquiredIris, demurely.

  "Some information about the mine. On second thoughts, however, I saw itwas unnecessary."

  "Oh, was that all?"

  "Practically all."

  "Then som
e part was impracticable?"

  He glanced sharply at her, but she was merely talking at random.

  "Well, you see," he explained, "one can do so little without therequisite plant. This sort of ore requires a crushing-mill, a smeltingfurnace, perhaps big tanks filled with cyanide of potassium."

  "And, of course, although you can do wonders, you cannot provide allthose things, can you?"

  Jenks deemed this query to be unanswerable.

  They were busy again until night fell. Sitting down for a little whilebefore retiring to rest, they discussed, for the hundredth time, theprobabilities of speedy succor. This led them to the topic of availablesupplies, and the sailor told Iris the dispositions he had made.

  "Did you bury the box of books?" she asked.

  "Yes, but not in the cave. They are at the foot of the cinchona overthere. Why? Do you want any?"

  "I have a Bible in my room, but there was a Tennyson among the otherswhich I glanced at in spare moments."

  The sailor thanked the darkness that concealed the deep bronze of faceand neck caused by this chance remark. He vaguely recollected themanner in which the lines from "Maud" came to his lips after theepisode of the letter. Was it possible that he had unknowingly utteredthem aloud and Iris was now slily poking fun at him? He glowed withembarrassment.

  "It is odd that you should mention Tennyson," he managed to say calmly."Only today I was thinking of a favorite passage."

  Iris, of course, was quite innocent this time.

  "Oh, do tell me. Was it from 'Enoch Arden'?"

  He gave a sigh of relief. "No. Anything but that," he answered.

  "What then?"

  "'Maud.'"

  "Oh, 'Maud.' It is very beautiful, but I could never imagine why thepoet gave such a sad ending to an idyllic love story."

  "They too often end that way. Moreover, 'Enoch Arden' is not what youmight call exhilarating."

  "No. It is sad. I have often thought he had the 'Sonata Pathetique' inhis mind when he wrote it. But the note is mournful all through. Thereis no promise of happiness as in 'Maud.'"

  "Then it is my turn to ask questions. Why did you hit upon that poemamong so many?"

  "Because it contains an exact description of our position here. Don'tyou remember how the poor fellow

  "'Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge, A shipwrecked sailor, waiting for a sail.'

  "I am sure Tennyson saw our island with poetic eye, for he goes on--

  "'No sail from day to day, but every day The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts Among the palms and ferns and precipices; The blaze upon the waters to the east; The blaze upon his island overhead; The blaze upon the waters to the west; Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven, The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again The scarlet shafts of sunrise--but no sail."

  She declaimed the melodious verse with a subtle skill that amazed herhearer. Profoundly moved, Jenks dared not trust himself to speak.

  "I read the whole poem the other day," she said after a silence of someminutes. "Sorrowful as it is, it comforted me by comparison. Howdifferent will be our fate to his when 'another ship stays by thisisle'!"

  Yet neither of them knew that one line she had recited was moresingularly applicable to their case than that which they paid heed to."The great stars that globed themselves in Heaven," were shining clearand bright in the vast arch above. Resplendent amidst the throng rosethe Pleiades, the mythological seven hailed by the Greeks as an auguryof safe navigation. And the Dyaks--one of the few remaining savageraces of the world--share the superstition of the people who fashionedall the arts and most of the sciences.

  The Pleiades form the Dyak tutelary genius. Some among a bloodthirstyand vengeful horde were even then pointing to the clustering stars thatpromised quick voyage to the isle where their kinsmen had been struckdown by a white man who rescued a maid. Nevertheless, Grecian romanceand Dyak lore alike relegate the influence of the Pleiades to the sea.Other stars are needed to foster enterprise ashore.