The Coral Island - Robert Michael Ballantyne (little readers txt) 📗
- Author: Robert Michael Ballantyne
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after a dive. Now we were almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as we had been at first at his non-appearance; for, to the best of our judgment, he had been nearly
ten minutes under water, perhaps longer, and it required no
exertion of our reason to convince us that this was utterly
impossible for mortal man to do and retain his strength and
faculties. It was therefore with a feeling akin to superstitious
awe that I held down my hand and assisted him to clamber up the
steep rocks. But no such feeling affected Peterkin. No sooner did
Jack gain the rocks and seat himself on one, panting for breath,
than he threw his arms round his neck, and burst into a flood of
tears. “Oh, Jack, Jack!” said he, “where were you? What kept you
so long?”
After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit still
and listen to Jack’s explanation, although he could not restrain
himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at me, in order
to express his joy at Jack’s safety. I say he attempted to wink,
but I am bound to add that he did not succeed, for his eyes were so
much swollen with weeping, that his frequent attempts only resulted
in a series of violent and altogether idiotical contortions of the
face, that were very far from expressing what he intended.
However, I knew what the poor fellow meant by it, so I smiled to
him in return, and endeavoured to make believe that he was winking.
“Now, lads,” said Jack, when we were composed enough to listen to
him, “yon green object is not a shark; it is a stream of light
issuing from a cave in the rocks. Just after I made my dive, I
observed that this light came from the side of the rock above which
we are now sitting; so I struck out for it, and saw an opening into
some place or other that appeared to be luminous within. For one
instant I paused to think whether I ought to venture. Then I made
up my mind, and dashed into it. For you see, Peterkin, although I
take some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few
seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring
me out o’ the hole and up to the surface again. Well, I was just
on the point of turning, - for I began to feel a little
uncomfortable in such a place, - when it seemed to me as if there
was a faint light right above me. I darted upwards, and found my
head out of water. This relieved me greatly, for I now felt that I
could take in air enough to enable me to return the way I came.
Then it all at once occurred to me that I might not be able to find
the way out again; but, on glancing downwards, my mind was put
quite at rest by seeing the green light below me streaming into the
cave, just like the light that we had seen streaming out of it,
only what I now saw was much brighter.
“At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed around me, it
was so dark; but gradually my eyes became accustomed to it, and I
found that I was in a huge cave, part of the walls of which I
observed on each side of me. The ceiling just above me was also
visible, and I fancied that I could perceive beautiful glittering
objects there, but the farther end of the cave was shrouded in
darkness. While I was looking around me in great wonder, it came
into my head that you two would think I was drowned; so I plunged
down through the passage again in a great hurry, rose to the
surface, and - here I am!”
When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this
remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down
to see it; which I did, but found it so dark, as Jack had said,
that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned, we had a long
conversation about it, during which I observed that Peterkin had a
most lugubrious expression on his countenance.
“What’s the matter, Peterkin?” said I.
“The matter?” he replied. “It’s all very well for you two to be
talking away like mermaids about the wonders of this cave, but you
know I must be content to hear about it, while you are enjoying
yourselves down there like mad dolphins. It’s really too bad.”
“I’m very sorry for you, Peterkin, indeed I am,” said Jack, “but we
cannot help you. If you would only learn to dive - “
“Learn to fly, you might as well say!” retorted Peterkin, in a very
sulky tone.
“If you would only consent to keep still,” said I, “we would take
you down with us in ten seconds.”
“Hum!” returned Peterkin; “suppose a salamander was to propose to
you ‘only to keep still,’ and he would carry you through a blazing
fire in a few seconds, what would you say?”
We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that
nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water. But we could not
rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave; so, after
further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we could take
down a torch with us, and set fire to it in the cavern. This we
found to be an undertaking of no small difficulty; but we
accomplished it at last by the following means:- First, we made a
torch of a very inflammable nature out of the bark of a certain
tree, which we cut into strips, and, after twisting, cemented
together with a kind of resin or gum, which we also obtained from
another tree; neither of which trees, however, was known by name to
Jack. This, when prepared, we wrapped up in a great number of
plies of cocoa-nut cloth, so that we were confident it could not
get wet during the short time it should be under water. Then we
took a small piece of the tinder, which we had carefully treasured
up lest we should require it, as before said, when the sun should
fail us; also, we rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which,
with a little bow and drill, like those described before, we made
into another bundle, and wrapped it up in cocoa-nut cloth. When
all was ready we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our
trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the
rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on.
Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one
bundle, with the torch; I the other, with the things for producing
fire.
“Now don’t weary for us, Peterkin, should we be gone some time,”
said Jack; “we’ll be sure to return in half-an-hour at the very
latest, however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve
your mind.”
“Farewell!” said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of deep but
pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on
the cheek. “Farewell! and while you are gone I shall repose my
weary limbs under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the
changefulness of all things earthly, with special reference to the
forsaken condition of a poor shipwrecked sailor boy!” So saying,
Peterkin waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the
ground with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well
feigned, that I would have thought it genuine had he not
accompanied it with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and, springing
from the rocks together, plunged head first into the sea.
We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty,
and, on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time
by treading-water, while we held the two bundles above our heads.
This we did in order to let our eyes become accustomed to the
obscurity. Then, when we could see sufficiently, we swam to a
shelving rock, and landed in safety. Having wrung the water from
our trousers, and dried ourselves as well as we could under the
circumstances, we proceeded to ignite the torch. This we
accomplished without difficulty in a few minutes; and no sooner did
it flare up than we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects
that were revealed to our gaze. The roof of the cavern just above
us seemed to be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded
into the distance, until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be
made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same
material. Immense icicles (as they appeared to us) hung from it in
various places. These, however, were formed, not of ice, but of a
species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a liquid form towards
the point of each, where it became solid. A good many drops fell,
however, to the rock below, and these formed little cones, which
rose to meet the points above. Some of them had already met, and
thus we saw how the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to
us as if they had been placed there by some human architect to
support the roof. As we advanced farther in, we saw that the floor
was composed of the same material as the pillars; and it presented
the curious appearance of ripples, such as are formed on water when
gently ruffled by the wind. There were several openings on either
hand in the walls, that seemed to lead into other caverns; but
these we did not explore at this time. We also observed that the
ceiling was curiously marked in many places, as if it were the
fret-work of a noble cathedral; and the walls, as well as the roof,
sparkled in the light of our torch, and threw back gleams and
flashes, as if they were covered with precious stones. Although we
proceeded far into this cavern, we did not come to the end of it;
and we were obliged to return more speedily than we would otherwise
have done, as our torch was nearly expended. We did not observe
any openings in the roof, or any indications of places whereby
light might enter; but near the entrance to the cavern stood an
immense mass of pure white coral rock, which caught and threw back
the little light that found an entrance through the cave’s mouth,
and thus produced, we conjectured, the pale-green object which had
first attracted our attention. We concluded, also, that the
reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim
light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave.
Before diving through the passage again we extinguished the small
piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry spot;
conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it, if at any
future time we should chance to wet our torch while diving into the
cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was out, waiting
till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could not help
remarking the deep, intense stillness and the unutterable gloom of
all around us; and, as I thought of the stupendous dome above, and
the countless gems that had sparkled in the torch-light a few
minutes before, it came into my mind to consider how strange it is
that God should make such wonderful and extremely-beautiful works
never to be seen at all, except, indeed, by chance visitors such
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