Part 44 (1/2)

The Dyaks began shooting arrows of fire all about on the summit of the terrace. They were shafts made highly inflammable by means of resin and pitch. Their flight through the air was not sufficiently violent to extinguish their glowing ends. If they did not blaze upon alighting on the rocks, they still retained sufficient heat and redness to ignite a pan of powder.

It was this that occurred to Grenville as he made up his mind that some genius of diabolism among the new arrivals was doubtless responsible for this effort to explode his magazine. His satisfaction with himself for his foresight in storing his powder anew was his one real joy of the day. He wondered how long this business might continue, and how many of the enemy must now be reckoned with.

As a matter of fact, with the four who had come under cover of the night, there were nine unscathed by previous engagements. Also, it was, as Grenville had suspected, one of the latest comers who had counseled the use of burning arrows. Since the terrace defenders were employing some dreaded explosive, the one course readily suggested was to reach his supply with a brand of fire--and, perhaps, thereby destroy its maker. In any event, deprived of this one deadly means of defense, the whites could be readily slaughtered.

Already the Dyaks had built a bridge, to be used, when the time should at last arrive, for spanning that gap on the trail. It was not impossible, many had urged, that the prisoners lodged on the headland's summit were already either dead or dying. How they had managed to survive so long, with no supply of water, was sufficiently mysterious.

Should they still be found alive another day--all the greater the joy of bringing about the end!

The Dyak plan for reaching the magazine had been too hastily concocted.

The supply of tarred and resined arrows was decidedly insufficient.

Less than a score had been sent to the top of the terrace when the last was speeded on its way. But during the short remaining hour of daylight, and even by firelight, after dark, the shafts acc.u.mulated swiftly, against the coming of the dawn.

Meantime to Grenville had come an inspiration. His one clear hope for the morning was that more of the arrows might be shot from below to make his plans complete. If the Dyaks were busy after dark, they could scarcely have matched the fever with which he likewise toiled.

Down to the cool, dry chamber of the cavern he had carried no less than eight of his largest bombs, with coil upon coil of his fuse. Two mines of four bombs each he planted, concealing all with rocks. From each of the mines one fuse only was laid, to the inner angle of the pa.s.sage.

Each bomb had a shorter bit of fuse thrust in a handful of powder, to which the two main fuses led. The lines were carefully protected, not only against discovery, but as well against himself, or his boots, as he tramped back and forth from the cave. When this arrangement had been made complete, he could do no more in that direction till his favorable hour should arrive.

His next attention was directed to his bamboo float, which had been practically dismembered. He had utilized the heavy stems to construct a long and narrow platform, with two rude hooks lashed on the end to engage a rung of his ladder. This ladder he not only lowered down from the wall to a position in front of the cavern's opening, securing its end with more than ordinary caution among the rocks he piled upon it, but also he had tested the length, and every rung, by extending his platform across from the ledge and climbing from the sea to the terrace.

It was midnight before his final preparation was complete. This had been simply arranged. He had carried a canister of powder to the outside rocks, considerably back of Elaine's former shelter, together with two small bombs. The powder he laid in a six-foot ring, or spiral, that narrowed towards the center, merely to provide a lasting and widespread flash when at length it should be ignited.

The bombs were placed near by, simply laid in a cave of no considerable dimensions. Their fuses were trailed across the rocks to a place of observation, and were opened out in such a manner as to fire both the spiral and the noisy but harmless explosives.

Despite his nervous tension and the worry occasioned in his mind, lest, the Dyaks fail of their allotted part, Grenville finally slept as soundly as a boy, when at length he could work no more. But Elaine, strangely tingling with apprehension, concerned with the part that she must likewise play to render his plans effective, had not Sidney's weariness to overcome her nerves, and therefore rested badly.

For long she lay there, listening, as always, to the silence enfolding the island, thinking how fair it had really been when the wail alone had been with them, and wondering, eagerly wondering, if by chance her companion of the hours both bright and dark had noticed the girdle she was wearing.

CHAPTER XLI

A LIVING BAIT

The morning dawned in beauty, a few clouds riding with thistle-down lightness athwart the illimitable dome of blue, as intense as that of the sea. A light breeze stirred in the jungle, to wander aimlessly from one deep chalice of fragrance to another, before it trailed across the hill. Sea tang arose from the restless tide, that washed at the cliff incessantly.

As far as sight could pursue the richness of its causeway, the sun laid gold in glittering mosaic across the tropic ocean. Never had the sparkling waves seemed brighter, the world more promising, as Elaine peered forth through her c.h.i.n.k in the door, awaiting--G.o.d only knew what.

She had never been more excited, and rarely more alarmed. The unknown element in Grenville's plans kept her nerves at the highest tension.

They had eaten a breakfast solely of fish before the light of daybreak.

Grenville had carefully closed the pa.s.sage barrier, and crept out upon the terrace. On no account must she open the door, or call him, to her side. She must wait, and not even expect to hear a report of what was occurring.

The longest cord she had ever helped to braid was lightly secured to her arm. Its farther end was tied in the rocks at the lower exit of the pa.s.sage. Until she should feel his tug upon this signal line, she could only imagine that Sidney was near, or, perhaps, was climbing down his ladder.

She dreaded the thought of that ladder, so frailly depending above the rocks and water, not to mention all its use might mean when the time for the signal should arrive. And she might be obliged to wait all day, as Sidney had warned her, duly--all day, while the wildest, the most tormenting of conjectures would leisurely elaborate themselves in her brain to convince her that Sidney was no more.

Should he fall from the cliff, should he chance to underestimate the Dyaks' treacherous activities--should any one of a dozen possible calamities occur--how long must she wait till she knew?

Meantime Grenville was barely less keyed to excited expectancy than Elaine in her prison-like retreat. Times without number he goaded his mind to review once more the inventory of his scheme, where the lack of one small detail might prove his entire undoing. Yet, after all, there were a few links only in the chain, though each was vitally important.

He counted them over carefully--the signs or proof of calamity, here on the hill, to convince the head-hunting demons his magazine was gone, and with it all possible defense; the ladder and platform down below, whereby he could reach the cave; the bombs for the climax, should his hope succeed; and fire for their certain ignition.