Part 30 (1/2)
A DESPERATE ADVENTURE
Heroism is a plant of strange growth. It springs up suddenly, mysteriously, in unexpected places. A simple peasant girl, tending her flocks, hears a Voice; and she becomes a warrior, a leader of men, the saviour of her country. A maidservant, after a day of scrubbing floors and was.h.i.+ng dishes, is darning stockings in the kitchen when she smells fire, rushes into the bedroom where the children are asleep, and carries them one by one through the flames into safety, at the cost of her own life.
Such opportunities fall to few. The most of us trudge a very unheroic journey through life. The road may be dusty, with ups and downs, dangerous corners and wearisome hills; but we plod along, keeping pretty closely to the highway, and taking great care at the crossings.
It is only the odd one here and there who, by what we call the accident of circ.u.mstance, or by some compelling adventurousness of spirit, strays into the golden fields of romance, and is transformed into the s.h.i.+ning semblance of a hero.
Yet the capacity for heroism may be latent under many a sober coat or homely ap.r.o.n. The town girl who shudders at a cow, the country girl who trembles at the looming of a motor omnibus, may show under the stress of some high emotion, at the call of some great emergency, qualities that match her with Joan of Arc or Alice Ayres.
Elizabeth Westmacott's life had been very simple and uneventful. She had had nothing more difficult to cope with than the ordinary crosses and perplexities of the daily round at the farm. She had never come face to face with mortal peril, or felt any stern demand upon her courage and endurance. But as she returned along the tunnel with her sister a great resolution shaped itself within her mind. A white man was in danger of his life; she would at least try to save him.
She was very quiet when she rejoined the little party in the pit. It was Tommy who, quivering with excitement, related to Mary what she had seen. The younger girls deplored the hapless condition of the old missionary; they wished he could be saved, but they felt the vanity of wis.h.i.+ng. Elizabeth sat in silence, thinking hard.
”I must go up and get a breath of air,” she said at last.
”I'll come too,” said Tommy.
”No, dear, not yet; I want to be alone.”
There was something in her tone that set her sister wondering.
”You'll be careful, Bess?” said Mary.
”Yes, I must be careful,” was the reply.
Elizabeth climbed up the ladder. She was gone some time; her return was announced by a slight rustling thud upon the ground; something had been thrown into the pit.
”What is that?” asked Tommy. ”Are you all right, Bess?”
”Quite right,” said Elizabeth as she descended. ”It is only a lot of creepers. We are going to make another ladder.”
”Another! We don't want another.”
”The first isn't long enough or the right sort. I am going to release the poor missionary.”
The girls were for the moment speechless with amazement. Then Tommy said--
”You are mad, Bess; it is impossible. Don't talk such absolute rubbish.”
”It isn't rubbish, dear. The savages are asleep. We can let down a rope ladder. I will climb down and cut his bonds. He will be safe if we get him into the tunnel.”
”Oh, how insane you are! We shan't let you do any such thing.”
”You are bound to wake them, Bess,” said Mary; ”you know how lightly savages sleep. They are just like dogs, and wake at a whisper.”
”Not when they have fuddled themselves. I _must_ do it, girls. I can't bear to leave the poor old man to his fate without trying to help him. It is possible, and you must help me.”
Protest, entreaty, expostulation, were alike vain. Even when Tommy, with an air of triumph, exclaimed, ”The hole isn't big enough for you to squeeze through,” Elizabeth simply replied, ”Then we must make it bigger.”
Tommy knew from old experience that her elder sister was rather slow to make up her mind about anything; but when it was made up nothing would turn her. Some people called it firmness, I dare say there was a touch of obstinacy as well. It was evident that Elizabeth was thoroughly determined now, and the younger girls at length desisted from their attempts to dissuade her, and agreed to help.
Leaving Mary to a.s.sist Maku and Fangati in constructing a light ladder from the creepers she had gathered, Elizabeth set off with Tommy to return to the cave end of the tunnel. They had their knives with them.