The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn

But when one day Ransey Tansey proposed exploring it, she evinced very much reluctance to going herself.

“I’m afraid,” she said; “the giants might catch me and kill me.”

Fitz laughed, and Ransey assured her that the cave was not inhabited by even a single giant. It was all imagination.

“There might be snakes,” she persisted, “or awful alligators.”

Fitz laughed again, and Nelda felt more assured.

“You see me go, sah!” he said; “Is’e not afraid. Ha, ha! it take one much big giant and plenty big ’gator to flighten dis chile.”

He ran out of the cave now, but soon came back carrying a heap of withered grass and foliage.

Then he snatched up a burning brand.

“Now!” he cried, “dis chile done go to ’vestigate.”

Fitz was fond of exploiting a big word, although he never succeeded in pronouncing much more than three-quarters of it.

Presently the brave little lad disappeared, for the darkness had swallowed him up.

The cave at its other end turned to the right and then to the left, so that although Fitz lit his fire it could not be seen by those left behind.

Ransey and Nelda were becoming quite uneasy about him, when suddenly his voice was heard in the dark distance, coming nearer and nearer every moment, till he once more stood in the broad glare of day at the main entrance to the cave.

“So glad you’ve come back, Fitz,” cried Ransey, “for we had almost given you up; we thought the ’gators had swallowed you.”

Nelda, too, was glad, and so was honest Bob. He ran round and round him, barking.

The echo of the far interior took up the sound and gave back “wowff” for “wowff,” much to the dog’s astonishment. He made quite sure that another dog was hiding away in the darkness somewhere, and promised himself the infinite pleasure of shaking him out of his skin some day.

But the story of exploration that Fitz had to tell was indeed a wonderful one.

He had found an interior cave, and when he lit his fire, the sight of it, he declared to Ransey, was far more beautiful than Paradise. All around him, he said, was a mass of icicles, but all of crystal, and on the floor were hundreds and hundreds of great crystal candles.

“I not can splain (explain) propah,” he said. “Too much foh one leetle niggah boy to splain, but all about me dat cave sparkle and shine wid diamonds, rubies, and rainbows.”

So before they got home that night they made up their minds to explore the marvellous cave in company.

Nothing was said to any one else about their intention; only when they set out some days after this to go to the cave as usual, Ransey Tansey took with him several blue, red, and white lights. He determined in his own mind that this stalactite cave should be turned into a kind of fairy palace for once in a way.

He also carried a small bull’s-eye lantern, so that when lights went out they should not be plunged into darkness altogether.

They had been rather longer than usual in starting on this particular morning, and as the day was very beautiful, and the trees and flowers, butterflies and birds, all looking bright and gay, they must have lingered long on the road. At all events, it was quite one o’clock before they arrived at the cove, reached the cave, and launched their boat.

The fish, moreover, seemed to-day anxious to be caught, and excellent sport was enjoyed.

It only wanted two hours to sunset when they regained the mouth of the cave.

There would be moonlight to guide them home, however, even if they should be half an hour late.

Yes, and it was a full moon too. Mark this, reader, for with each full moon comes a spring tide!

I have no words to convey to any one the glorious sight they beheld when they at last entered the stalactite cave and lit their fire of wood and grass. Fitz had described it well – crystal icicles all around hanging from the vaulted roof, and raised high above the snow-white floor; walls of crystal, and strange, weird statues of a kind of marble.

They sat there in silent admiration until the fire began to burn low; then Ransey Tansey lit up the cave, first with a dazzling white light, then with blue, and finally with crimson.

And this ended the show, but it was one that Nelda would dream about for weeks to come.

How long they had stayed in this wondrous cave they could not tell, but, lo! to their dismay, when they reached the place where they had drawn up the boat, it was gone, and the waves were lapping up far inside. The dinghy had been floated away, and they were thus imprisoned for the night.

The moon, too, had gone down, for in these seas it neither rises nor sets at the same time it does in Britain.

Little Nelda was afraid to spend the night near to the dark water. Some awful beast, she said, might come out and drag her in, so back they went to the crystal cave. Alas! it had lost its charm now.

What a lonesome, weary time it was, and they dared not leave before daylight!

The fearless boy Fitz, after many, many hours had passed, went away, like a bird from the ark, to see if the waters were yet assuaged. He brought back word that the sun was rising, but that the water was still high.

The truth is, they had all slept without knowing it, and during this time the tide had gone back and once more risen, or, in other words, it had ebbed and flowed.

The anxiety of Tandy and the others on board the hulk may be better imagined than described when night fell and the wanderers did not return. For a time they expected them every minute, for the moon was still shining bright and clear in the west and tipping the waves with silver.

Tandy set out by himself at last, hoping to meet the little party. He walked for fully two miles along the track by which they most often came. Again and again he shouted and listened, but no answering shout came back to his, though he could hear now and then the dreary cry of a night-bird as it flew low over the woods in the gauzy glamour that the moon was shedding over everything.

But the moon itself would shortly sink, and so, uncertain what to do next, he returned, hoping against hope that the children might have reached the hulk before him.

What a long, dreary night it was! No one slept much. Of this I am sure, for the lost ones were friends both fore and aft.

But the greatest sorrow was to come, for, lo! when next morning at daybreak they reached the cave, the first thing that caught their eyes was the dinghy – beached, but bottom uppermost. Fishing gear and the oars were also picked up; but, of course, there was no sign of the children.

With grief, poor Tandy almost took leave of his senses, and it was indeed a pitiable sight to see him wandering aimlessly to and fro upon the coral beach, casting many a hopeless glance seawards.

Good, indeed, would it have been for him had tears come to his relief. But these were denied him. Even the consolations that honest James Malone poured into his ears were unheeded; perhaps they were hardly even heard.

“Death comes to all sooner or later. We do wrong to repine. Ah, my dear Tandy, God Himself knows what is best for us, and our sorrows here will all be joys in the land where you and I must be ere long.”

Well-meant platitudes, doubtless, but they brought no comfort to the anguished heart of the poor father.

It was noticed by one of the men that the strange bird Admiral, who had accompanied the search party, seemed plunged in grief himself. He walked about the beach, but ate nothing. He perched upon the keel of the upset boat, and over and over again he turned his long neck downwards, and wonderingly gazed upon the fishing gear and oars.

Then he disappeared.

We must now return to the cave where we left our smaller heroes.

Ransey Tansey’s greatest grief was in thinking about his father. It would be quite a long time yet before the tide ebbed sufficiently to permit them to leave the cave and scramble along the beach to the top of the cove. Well, there was nothing for it but to wait. But this waiting had a curious ending.

They had returned to the stalactite cave, and Ransey had once more lit his lamp, when suddenly, far at the other end, they heard something that made poor Nelda quake with fear and cling to her brother’s arm.

“Oh, it is a ghost!” she cried – “an old woman’s ghost!”

I cannot otherwise describe the sound than as a weary kind of half sigh, half moan, on a loud falsetto key.

No wonder Nelda thought it emanated from some old lady’s ghost; though what an old lady’s ghost could possibly be doing down here, it would have been difficult indeed to guess.

Bob took another view of the matter. He barked loudly and lustily, and rushed forward. It was no angry bark, however.

Next minute he came running back, and when Ransey Tansey turned the light on him he could see by the commotion among the long, rough hair which covered his rump that the fag-end of a tail he possessed was being violently but joyfully agitated.

“Come on,” he seemed to say; “follow me. You will be surprised!”

Without fear now, the children followed the dog, and, lo! not far off, standing solemnly in a kind of crystalline pulpit, was the Admiral himself. No wonder they were all astonished, or that the bird himself seemed pleased. But off the crane hopped now, the dog and the children too following, and there, not thirty yards from the place where they had been all night, was a landward opening into the cave.

It was surrounded with bush, and how the Admiral had found it must ever remain a mystery.

Ten minutes after this poor Tandy was clasping his children to his breast.

Innocent wee Babs was patting his cheek, and saying, “Never mind, daddy – never mind, dear daddy.” Childish consolation certainly, but, oh, so sweet! No wonder his pent-up feelings were relieved by tears at last.

The crane allayed his feelings by dancing a pas de joie on the coral sand. Bob gave vent to his by rushing about and barking at everything and everybody, but especially at the boat, which he seemed to regard as the innocent cause of all the trouble.

“Wowff – wowff – wow! Why did it run away anyhow?”

That is what Bob wanted to know.

But the tide had ebbed sufficiently to permit of a visit to the cave of delight, as Ransey called it.

James and Tandy, with Ransey and Fitz, embarked, the others remaining on shore.

Both men were as much delighted and astonished at what they saw as the children themselves had been. A large quantity of withered branches and foliage had been taken in the boat, to make a fire in the crystalline cave.

“But oh, father,” said Ransey, “you should have seen it last night when we lit it up with crimson light!”

“We’ll come again, lad,” replied his father.

They then made their way to the outer opening, and back once more to the inner, where they had left the boat.

It was noticed that James Malone was somewhat silent all the way back to the wreck. And so he continued during breakfast. After this he slowly arose. “Brother,” he said, laying his hand on Halcott’s shoulder, “I have something strange to tell you. Come to the cliff-top, and you too, Tandy, and bring your pipes.”

Book Three – Chapter Eight.

Entombed Alive

It was a very lovely day now. The sea all round towards the eastern side of the island was deep and blue; but the waters to the west were here and there more shallow, so that the ocean here was patched with splendid colouring – tints of opal, tender green, and crimson were set off by the deep dark-brown of a rocky bottom, whereon masses of sea-weed waved with the ebb or the flow of the tide.

There was not a breath of wind to-day, not a whisper in the woodlands; scarce a sound was to be heard, save the drowsy hum of the waves as they broke far below on the beach of snow-white sand, or the occasional screaming of the sea-birds sailing round and round the beetling crags where their nests were.

In very joy they seemed to scream to-day. Happy birds! There was no one to molest them on this far-off beautiful isle of the ocean. No gun was ever levelled at them, not a pebble ever thrown even by Fitz; and so tame were they that they often ran about the cliff-top, or even alighted on the ship itself.

But slowly indeed to-day does James Malone walk towards the cliff. Out through the inner, out through the great outer gate; for he will not feel comfortable until he is clear of the encampment, and seated near to the very brink of that great wall of rocks.

“Gentlemen,” he said, when at last he had filled and lit his pipe with all the coolness of a North American Indian – “gentlemen, hitherto all our efforts to find the gold mine have been in vain, but mere chance has revealed to us the secret that has been hidden from us so long – ”

“James,” said Tandy, excitedly, “you don’t mean to say – ”

“But,” interrupted James, “I do mean to say it, Tandy. Halcott there knows that I seldom make an assertion till I have well-considered the matter on all sides.”

“You never do, brother.”

“That cave, gentlemen, which in so strange a way the children have found, is a gold mine —the gold mine!

“The land entrance I can now remember, although it is somewhat changed. Show me the map of the island, brother.”

Halcott spread it out before him.

He pointed out Fire Hill, then drew his finger along until it rested on the spot where the cave was.

“The fault has been all mine, gentlemen; I alone led you astray, for appearances deceived me. But it is not yet too late.

“And so you see, Tandy, that, after all, Providence has changed our mourning into joy. I do not now despair of anything. God moves in a mysterious way, brothers, and you may rest assured we shall yet return in peace to enjoy the fruits of our labours in the land of our birth.”

Halcott was silent; so too was Tandy for a time.

Need I tell you what they were thinking about? If they could but return with enough gold to give them an independence, how pleasant would be their prospects for the future!

Well, this world is not all sorrow, and it is only right we should enjoy it. I think I can honestly go further, reader, and say it is a sin not to make the best of the beautiful world we live in, a sin to look always at the darkest side when clouds surround us. Let us not believe in the pessimism of Burns when he wrote his dirge “Man was made to mourn,” a verse or two of which run as follows: —

“Look not alone on youthful prime,    Or manhood’s active might;Man then is useful to his kind,    Supported is his right:But see him on the edge of life,    With cares and sorrows worn;Then age and want – oh! ill-matched pair! —    Show man was made to mourn.“A few seem favourites of fate,    In pleasure’s lap carest;Yet think not all the rich and great    Are likewise truly blest.But, oh! what crowds in every land    Are wretched and forlorn!Through weary life this lesson learn —    that man was made to mourn.”

Tandy had risen to his feet, and was looking somewhat anxiously towards Observatory Hill.

The seaman who took day and day about with Fitz in watching was at this moment signalling.

“He wants us to come up,” said Tandy.

“Who knows,” said James, with far more cheerfulness in his voice than usual – “who knows but that our deliverance is already at hand? The man may have seen a ship!”

Halcott and Tandy, about an hour after this, stood beside the man on the brow of the hill, with their glasses turned towards the far-off island.

They could see the beach with far greater clearness than usual to-day.

It was crowded with savages running to and fro, into the bush and out of it, in a state apparently of great excitement.

At this distance they resembled nothing more than a hive of bees about to swarm.

Independent of innumerable dug-outs drawn up here and there were no less than five huge war-canoes.

Tandy turned away with a slight sigh.

“Just as the cup of joy,” he said, “was being held to our lips, ill-fortune seems to have snatched it away.”

“Heigho!” sighed Halcott, “how I envy honest James for the hopefulness that he never appears to lose, even in the very darkest hours, the hours of what we should call despair.

“But look,” he continued, pointing towards Fire Hill. “Not a cloud to be seen!”

“The volcano is dead!” said Tandy, with knitted brows; “and now, indeed, we shall have to fight.”

Halcott took Tandy’s hand, while he looked calmly into his face.

“My friend,” he said, “we have come through many and many a danger side by side, and here we are alive and well to tell it. If fighting it must be with these savages, neither you nor I shall be afraid to face them. But we may succeed in making peace.”

“Ah, Halcott, I fear their friendship even more than their enmity. But for my dear boy and my little girl, I should care for neither.”

And now all haste back to the camp was made.

All hands were summoned, and the case laid plainly before them.

The story of the cave was told to them also, and it did Halcott’s heart good to hear the ringing cheer with which their words were received.

The next thing Halcott ordered was a survey of stores. Alas! this did not take long; and afterwards the defences were most carefully inspected.

On the whole, the outlook was a hopeful one, even if the savages did come in force and place the strange little encampment in a state of siege. Their provisions and even their ammunition would last for three weeks at least.

And – and then?

Ah! no one thought of an answer to that question. They meant to do their best, and trust in Providence for everything else.

But the expected arrival of these warlike natives was not going to prevent them from finding gold, if gold there were in the Medicine-man’s Cave, as it was now named.

So early next morning the discovery party had reached the landward opening. They were provided with lamps to light and hang, with tools, and with provisions for the day.

At the mouth of the cave Fitz was stationed with glass in hand, to watch for a signal to be given from Observatory Hill, in case the boats should start from the distant island.

The lamps were lit at the entrance to the cave, which was gloomy enough in all conscience.

“Surely,” cried Tom Wilson, when they reached the interior and saw the great stalactites, the candles and icicles of glass, and the walls all shining with “rubies and rainbows,” – “surely this is the cave of Aladdin. Ah, it is diamonds as well as gold we ought to be able to collect here, maties!”

And now hours were spent in a fruitless search for the mine. Even the floor of the seaward cave was dug up and its walls tapped, but all in vain.

It was not until they were preparing to leave, that, chancing to hear Bob whining and scraping not ten yards from the outer entrance, Halcott turned his attention in that direction.

A ghastly sight met their gaze! For here lay a pile of human bones half covered with dust, and half buried in the débris that had fallen from the roof.

And near this awful heap, but above it, was a hole about five feet high, and wide enough to admit two men at a time.

The excitement now was intense, but for a time all stood spell-bound with horror.

“Here,” said James, slowly, “is the spot where that fiend, the medicine-man, murdered the boys as an offering to the great fire-fiend. Now we shall find the gold. Come, follow me, men!”

He took a lamp from Tom Wilson’s hand as he spoke, and boldly entered the cave.

It was far from an inviting place where they now stood.

What did that signify to those determined gold-seekers? For hardly had they dug two feet down ere they were rewarded by finding one large, rough nugget of pure gold and several small ones.

They forgot all about the savages now, and nothing could exceed the eagerness with which the men laboured. But fatigue, at last, overcame them, and they were obliged to retire, carrying with them more of the precious ore than many an Australian digger has found during a whole lifetime.

It was very dark as they made their way through the bush; but Fitz was an excellent guide, so they got back in time for supper.

A very happy evening this was, fore and aft, and Tom Wilson seemed the gayest of the gay. The poor fellow had sinned and fallen, it is true, but surely God had already forgiven him. Tom believed so, and it was this belief, he told James more than once, that made him forget his sorrow.

“I’ll meet my wife and children on the other shore,” he said once, with a sad smile, “and they’ll forgive me too.”

In a week’s time the gold fever was at its height. And no wonder, for in whatever direction they dug nuggets were found in this marvellous cave.

The fortune of every man there was made.

But would the gold be of any use to them?

One day, about a fortnight after the wonderful discovery, something very startling occurred. Almost every hour while digging they had heard strange sounds, like the rumbling of heavy artillery along a rough road, with now and then a loud but muffled report, as of a great gun fired in the distance.

No wonder James had remarked that the heathen minds of the savages believed that a great fire-fiend dwelt deep down here, and must be propitiated with human sacrifice.

But on this particular day, after a terrible report, the earth shook and quivered, great masses of soil fell crashing down here and there, and the lamps were all extinguished.

The noise died away like the muttering of a thunderstorm in the far distance.

“Keep quiet and cool, men; we are all right. We can relight the lamps.” It was Halcott who spoke.

Yes, and so they quickly did; but judge of their horror when, on making their way to what had been the entrance to the cave, they found no exit there!

Then the terrible truth revealed itself to them – they were entombed alive!

At first the horror of the situation rendered them speechless.

Was it the heat of internal fires, or was it terror – I know not which – that made the perspiration stand in great beads on their now pale faces?

“What is to be done?” cried one of the men.

“Never despair, lad!” – and Halcott’s manly voice was heard once more – “never despair!”

His voice sounded hollow, however – hollow, and far away.

Book Three – Chapter Nine.

“On Swept the War-Canoes towards the Coral Beach.”

“It was just here, was it not,” said Halcott, “where the entrance was? Keep up your hearts, boys, we shall soon dig ourselves clear.”

Cheered by his voice, every one set himself bravely to the task before him.

But a whole hour went by, and they were now nearly exhausted.

One or more had thrown themselves on the ground panting.

The heat increased every minute, and the atmosphere became stifling. The thirst, too, was almost unendurable.

Even James himself was yielding at last to despair, and already the lights were burning more dimly.

But hark! the sound of the dog barking. His voice seemed ever so far away, but every heart was cheered by it.

Again, lads, again! Up with your spades; one more effort.

The men sprang up from the floor of the cave and went to work now with a will.

Nearer and nearer the dog’s anxious barking sounded every minute.

At last, with a joyous cry, Bob burst through, and with him came a welcome rush of pure air.

They were saved!

Is it any wonder that when they found themselves once more out in the jungle, with flowers and foliage all around them and the breath of heaven fanning their faces, James Malone proposed a prayer of thankfulness?

They rose from their knees at last.

“We have been taught a lesson,” said this honest fellow; “our ambition was far too overweening. Our lust for gold all but found us a grave.”

They had arrived early at camp, so Tandy and Halcott determined to make another visit to Observatory Hill, for the man had once more signalled.

Extra activity was apparent among the savages in the northern island. It was evident enough now that they would not long delay their coming.

The sun set, and soon afterwards darkness fell, but still the man lingered on the hill-top.

And now they could see a great fire spring up, just a little way from the water’s edge, and soon the savages were observed dancing wildly around it in three or four great circles.

It was evident that some horrible orgie was taking place, and they might easily presume that the medicine-man was busy enough, and that a human sacrifice was being offered up to appease the fiends of war, in which those benighted beings so firmly believed.