"No, I"m afraid not. But it won"t be long, I am sure, until we have devised some means of rescuing you."
Cynthia sat down on the rock and put her hands over her face. I thought that she was crying until I heard the laughter bubbling forth.
"I really can not help it," she said. "Do excuse me, but you look so woebegone. So many things have happened that I really am not at all afraid that we shan"t get out of this as we have out of all our other troubles. Now I"ll go and send Lacelle to see if she can find any opening."
It was clear to my mind that Cynthia knew nothing of her night"s peril, and I thought that it was as well not to enlighten her.
She disappeared inside her sleeping chamber, and soon after I saw Lacelle issue from the archway and proceed up the slope. The rock ran back a very little way at this point--fifty feet, perhaps--and then the cliff shot upward again with the same irregular outward slope. I saw Cynthia moving about in her cave. She seemed to be picking up her things.
She looked out once, and nodded down the slope at me.
"I"m packing," she called, a smile on her lips. Poor soul! Packing, indeed! I saw that she had the mortuary bag in her hand, and that she was placing her few belongings within it. She was kneeling down, finishing this work or else trying to make more, when I saw her start. I heard a faint scream, and looked up to see Lacelle come flying down the hillside. Cynthia went to meet her. I could see that they were talking, as was their custom, by signs and a few words.
"She says there are enormous snakes up there," called Cynthia. Lacelle nodded her head violently, and rounded her arms to an enormous circle.
"She says they are so big," said Cynthia, imitating Lacelle.
"I don"t believe they are harmful, ma"m," said the Smith, joining me.
"The Papalois use "em, and they are not poisonous."
"What are those, Mr. Smith?" called Cynthia. "Papalois, I mean."
I nudged the Smith.
"She knows nothing of those wretches," I said. "Why under heaven can"t you keep your tongue between your teeth?"
"They are the books on snakes and such things, ma"m, which I have read about this da--this island."
"Oh!" said Cynthia. "I"ll tell her." She turned to Lacelle and began to talk with lips and fingers, and then turned again to us.
"She says some are and some are not. I"m sure I hope these are not."
"If the snakes are poisonous, those ladies are on the wrong side of the fence," said the Smith.
The Bo"s"n now came toward us. He had a small parcel in his hand. It consisted of some birds" eggs, which he had boiled hard and had kept in a cool place within the pa.s.sage, and some fruit. He made motions as if to throw it toward Cynthia.
"Don"t!" said she. "Let me send you my bag."
She stooped and picked from the ground a tough vine--behucca they call it in Santo Domingo; liano, in South America. She tied one end through the handles and prepared to swing the bag down and across the chasm.
"Hold fast to the other end!" shouted I, for an idea had struck me. So soon as I had received the end of the vine I asked:
"How much more have you of the vine?"
"Oh, yards and yards."
"Well, let me have all that you can spare without letting go of the end." Soon I had enough of the vine on my side of the chasm to more than reach back to Cynthia.
"Take your end round the tree," said I, "and then throw it to me." She did as I told her. At first the vine fell short of the terrace, but she bravely pulled it back to her and tried again, and finally I was rewarded by catching the end in my hand.
"Now," said I, "if you can tie those ends securely together, we shall have a sort of endless chain." She did so, I holding the loop. Then I put some food in the bag and fastened it to the vine, and we sent it over by pulling on the loop and letting the knot go round the tree. Had I slipped the handles of the bag over the vine, it would only have slid down to us again.
"I can send you some water in the same way," said I, "if the vine is strong enough."
"There are plenty of vines," said the Smith.
"Go and collect all you can find, you and the Bo"s"n," said I, for a new thought had struck me.
The Bo"s"n and the Smith now went to the arch of rock which covered our sleeping place and tore down from above great handfuls of the trailing creepers. Some of them were so strongly rooted that we could not move them, but many came easily away from the earth, and soon the floor of the terrace was thickly strewn with them. I stooped over the precipice and tore up all that I could reach.
"Now," said I, "we will make a bridge." I told Cynthia at once what we intended doing, and she seated herself with Lacelle, and together they watched us at our work.
I told the Bo"s"n and the Smith to lay many strands of the vine on the floor and weave other vines in and out.
"Why can"t we do that up here?" asked Cynthia.
"I am afraid you would not make them strong enough," said I; "but if you think you could, you might try." I felt that it would amuse them perhaps, and would make the time pa.s.s more quickly.
We wove busily for an hour or two, and finally we had made eight or ten broad, closely filled mats. They were each about sixteen feet long. We wove them together two and two lengthwise, and then placed some on the top of others, thus making several layers. These we bound securely together, and when we had finished we found that we had woven a broad and strong platform, which I was sure would hold a much heavier weight than that of a slight young girl.
"The most important thing now," said I, "is that you should secure it well on your side. See how we have fastened these strong vines to your end of the bridge. When we send it over you must tie these strands round those trees, two and two. Fasten them very securely."
"No slippery hitches," said the Smith, "if you please, miss."
"No granny knots, Mrs. Jones, ma"m," added the Bo"s"n.
Cynthia flushed as she always did when the Bo"s"n addressed her thus, and cast her eyes on the ground.
We fastened the bridge to the rope of vine, and together Cynthia and Lacelle pulled it across. They then began to secure it to the tree. We three stood a few feet back from the edge of the chasm, bracing ourselves and holding our end of the bridge level and firm. The proceeding took some time. There were mistakes on their part and much instruction on ours. Finally, however, the platform was ready. Then my heart began to thump as if it would burst through my body. I wondered now if, after all our care, the bridge would hold Cynthia. I suggested this doubt to the Smith.
"Lord, yes!" he said. "You can hang by a single vine of good size. There ain"t any fear of that. If they"ll only look ahead and not downward, they will be all right."
I need not reprolong my agony. It was wearing enough and anxious enough then. I could not bear to look as Cynthia put her foot on the bridge.
"Try it first," I cried anxiously.
"I am not afraid," said she. "I am sure that you would make it strong enough."
Cynthia then turned to Lacelle, and asked her if she would like to go first, or if she, Cynthia, should do so.
Lacelle was ready to do either. Talk about bravery in men! I never saw anything to compare with those two women. For after all, though most people can usually stand a great and sudden shock, the test is, it seems to me, the bearing up under constant and wearing daily inconveniences, troubles, and anxieties.
"I think I had better come first," said Cynthia, "for if it holds me it will Lacelle. She is lighter than I am." She turned and kissed the Hatienne and then stepped confidently out on the bridge.
I shall never forget her as I saw her then. She had lost the pins with which she used to confine her hair, and it was constantly tumbling about her shoulders. She had no more than set her foot upon the ladder than down came that splendid golden veil. For a moment I was fearful that this would unnerve her, but, though the wind blew her fine hair about and across her eyes, she started boldly out on the narrow span.
"Hold out your hands," I shouted, "and balance yourself."