CHAPTER III

THE CHIMNEY

Noiselessly the two spectators slipped away through the bushes.

Startled by the discovery of a white man, whose very stillness declared him a prisoner in bonds among these dancing savages, they felt the need of talking freely, unrestrained by precautions against being overheard.

They hurried along at the base of the cliffs until they were out of earshot, then sat on a low rock where they could still see all that went on around the fire.

'Can it be that planter fellow on the _Berenisa_? What was his name?'

said Trentham.

'You mean Grimshaw; he was the only man besides ourselves who wore ducks. I don't know. Grimshaw was a small man; the prisoner seemed a big fellow. I couldn't see his face.'

'Nor I. Whoever it is, I 'm afraid his number 's up.'

'I didn't take much stock of Grinson's yarns about cannibals, but it appears he 's right. The n.i.g.g.e.rs would hardly bring their prisoner down the chimney for the fun of it, or the trouble of taking him up again.'

'Did you see a cooking-pot?'

'No, I was too busy watching the dancers to look around.'

'We 'll have to get him away.'

'Whew! That's a tall proposition, Trentham.'

'Confoundedly; but we can't stand off and see a white man cut up! Hang it all, Hoole, it's too horrible to think about!'

'Ghastly. Yet remember where we are. We might get him loose, but what then? They 'd hunt us over this strip of beach, and we 've proved pretty well there 's nowhere to hide.'

'Our only chance is to get him up the chimney.'

'My dear man!'

'It may be out of the frying-pan into the fire, if there are more of the savages on top, but down below his fate is certain, whereas----'

'But there 's the climbing. I 've done some in the Rockies, but I guess you 're a tenderfoot at mountaineering, and as for the seamen----'

'If they can scramble up rigging, they ought to be able to manage that chimney. I 'm sure I could. And really, there 's no time to lose. They 're still drumming and dancing, but who knows when they 'll feel hungry?

We had better bring up the others at once.'

They got up, and hastened towards their camping-place.

'It's the first step that costs,' remarked Hoole. 'How to get him away with the firelight full on him. It's a ticklish stunt.'

'We can but try--we must try! Hullo! Here 's Grinson.'

The two seamen stepped towards them from the shelter of a bush.

'We came to meet you, sir,' Grinson began.

'Hush, Grinson!' said Trentham. 'm.u.f.fle that organ-pipe of yours. The savages have got a white man.'

'Never!' exclaimed Meek, in husky astonishment.

'He 's lying tied to a bush there, apparently,' Trentham went on. 'A man dressed in white.'

'Mr. Grimshaw! How did they get him?' said Grinson. 'He must have been cast ash.o.r.e.'

'We don't think it's he, but it may be. Anyhow, we must try to rescue him.'

'Save us, sir! We 'll only go into the pot too. It will be like taking a bone from a dog, only worse.'

'Worse ain't the word for it,' said Meek. 'And you 'd go first, Mr.

Grinson, being a man of flesh.'

'Tough, Ephraim--uncommon tough, me lad. Any n.i.g.g.e.r of sense would rather have something young and juicy, like Mr. Trentham. I remember once----'

'Not now, Grinson,' Trentham interposed. 'We must make up our minds; there 's no time for recollections.'

'Plenty of time, sir. These 'ere cannibals never start cooking till the moon 's high aloft, and she 's only just peeping above the skyline.'

'That's a relief, if you 're right----'

'I can bear him out, sir,' said Meek.

'It gives us more time to make our plans. Our idea is, Grinson, if we get the prisoner away, to climb up that crack in the cliff; there's no safety below. There may be danger above, of course; it's a choice between two evils. We meant to try our luck to-morrow, you know; we only antic.i.p.ate by a few hours, and though climbing will be more difficult in the darkness than it would be in the light, you and Meek are used to clambering up the rigging at all hours and in all weathers----'

'Say no more about that, sir. We 'd back ourselves against cats.'

'Or monkeys,' suggested Meek.

'You 've got no tail, Ephraim. 'Tis not the climbing as I 've any fear about, sir; 'tis first the bonfire, second what's up top, third and last--there ain't no third, now I come to think of it.'

'The second we 've agreed to chance. The first--well, the only thing is to work round the savages and get between them and the chimney; then one of us must creep or crawl as close to them as he can, and watch his opportunity. There's no need for more than one.'

'That's my stunt,' said Hoole.

'Not at all. It's between you and me; we 're younger and quicker on our pins than the others; but why you should have the most risky part of the job----'

'The reason 's as clear as daylight. The quickest climber ought to go last. I allow that Grinson and Meek are probably more spry than I am in climbing; but in any case they 're ruled out. You 've never climbed a chimney--I have. I think that fixes it.'

'But the prisoner. It's unlikely he can climb quickly, and the last man couldn't go faster than he.'

'You ought to have been a lawyer, Trentham. But I have you yet. The last man may have to hold the savages off while the prisoner, slow by hypothesis, does his climb. Then speed will be vital when he climbs himself--see?'

'Axing your pardon, sir, and speaking like a father, as you may say,'