Chapter XXI. I Climb the Crags a Second Time

Prester John

by John Buchan

I remember that I looked over the brink into the yeasty abyss
with a mind hovering between perplexity and tears. I wanted to sit
down and cry - why, I did not know, except that some great thing had
happened. My brain was quite clear as to my own position. I was
shut in this place, with no chance of escape and with no food. In a
little I must die of starvation, or go mad and throw myself after
Laputa. And yet I did not care a rush. My nerves had been tried too
greatly in the past week. Now I was comatose, and beyond hoping or
fearing.

I sat for a long time watching the light play on the fretted
sheet of water and wondering where Laputa's body had gone. I shivered
and wished he had not left me alone, for the darkness would come in
time and I had no matches. After a little I got tired of doing
nothing, and went groping among the treasure chests. One or two were
full of coin - British sovereigns, Kruger sovereigns, Napoleons,
Spanish and Portuguese gold pieces, and many older coins ranging back
to the Middle Ages and even to the ancients. In one handful there
was a splendid gold stater, and in another a piece of Antoninus Pius.
The treasure had been collected for many years in many places,
contributions of chiefs from ancient hoards as well as the cash
received from I.D.B. I untied one or two of the little bags of
stones and poured the contents into my hands. Most of the diamonds
were small, such as a labourer might secrete on his person. The
larger ones - and some were very large - were as a rule discoloured,
looking more like big cairngorms. But one or two bags had big stones
which even my inexperienced eye told me were of the purest water.
There must be some new pipe, I thought, for these could not have been
stolen from any known mine.

After that I sat on the floor again and looked at the water. It
exercised a mesmeric influence on me, soothing all care. I was quite
happy to wait for death, for death had no meaning to me. My hate and
fury were both lulled into a trance, since the passive is the next
stage to the overwrought.

It must have been full day outside now, for the funnel was
bright with sunshine, and even the dim cave caught a reflected
radiance. As I watched the river I saw a bird flash downward,
skimming the water. It turned into the cave and fluttered among its
dark recesses. I heard its wings beating the roof as it sought
wildly for an outlet. It dashed into the spray of the cataract and
escaped again into the cave. For maybe twenty minutes it fluttered,
till at last it found the way it had entered by. With a dart it sped
up the funnel of rock into light and freedom.

I had begun to watch the bird in idle lassitude, I ended in keen
excitement. The sight of it seemed to take a film from my eyes. I
realized the zest of liberty, the passion of life again. I felt that
beyond this dim underworld there was the great joyous earth, and I
longed for it. I wanted to live now. My memory cleared, and I
remembered all that had befallen me during the last few days. I had
played the chief part in the whole business, and I had won. Laputa
was dead and the treasure was mine, while Arcoll was crushing the
Rising at his ease. I had only to be free again to be famous and
rich. My hopes had returned, but with them came my fears. What if I
could not escape? I must perish miserably by degrees, shut in the
heart of a hill, though my friends were out for rescue. In place of
my former lethargy I was now in a fever of unrest.

My first care was to explore the way I had come. I ran down the
passage to the chasm which the slab of stone had spanned. I had been
right in my guess, for the thing was gone. Laputa was in truth a
Titan, who in the article of death could break down a bridge which
would have taken any three men an hour to shift. The gorge was about
seven yards wide, too far to risk a jump, and the cliff fell sheer
and smooth to the imprisoned waters two hundred feet below. There
was no chance of circuiting it, for the wall was as smooth as if it
had been chiselled. The hand of man had been at work to make the
sanctuary inviolable.

It occurred to me that sooner or later Arcoll would track Laputa
to this place. He would find the bloodstains in the gully, but the
turnstile would be shut and he would never find the trick of it. Nor
could he have any kaffirs with him who knew the secret of the Place
of the Snake. Still if Arcoll knew I was inside he would find some
way to get to me even though he had to dynamite the curtain of rock.
I shouted, but my voice seemed to be drowned in the roar of the
water. It made but a fresh chord in the wild orchestra, and I gave
up hopes in that direction.

Very dolefully I returned to the cave. I was about to share the
experience of all treasure-hunters - to be left with jewels galore
and not a bite to sustain life. The thing was too commonplace to be
endured. I grew angry, and declined so obvious a fate. 'Ek sal 'n
plan maak,' I told myself in the old Dutchman's words. I had come
through worse dangers, and a way I should find. To starve in the
cave was no ending for David Crawfurd. Far better to join Laputa in
the depths in a manly hazard for liberty.

My obstinacy and irritation cheered me. What had become of the
lack-lustre young fool who had mooned here a few minutes back. Now I
was as tense and strung for effort as the day I had ridden from
Blaauwildebeestefontein to Umvelos'. I felt like a runner in the
last lap of a race. For four days I had lived in the midst of terror
and darkness. Daylight was only a few steps ahead, daylight and
youth restored and a new world.

There were only two outlets from that cave - the way I had come,
and the way the river came. The first was closed, the second a sheer
staring impossibility. I had been into every niche and cranny, and
there was no sign of a passage. I sat down on the floor and looked
at the wall of water. It fell, as I have already explained, in a
solid sheet, which made up the whole of the wall of the cave. Higher
than the roof of the cave I could not see what happened, except that
it must be the open air, for the sun was shining on it. The water
was about three yards distant from the edge of the cave's floor, but
it seemed to me that high up, level with the roof, this distance
decreased to little more than a foot.

I could not see what the walls of the cave were like, but they
looked smooth and difficult. Supposing I managed to climb up to the
level of the roof close to the water, how on earth was I to get
outside on to the wall of the ravine? I knew from my old days of
rock-climbing what a complete obstacle the overhang of a cave is.

While I looked, however, I saw a thing which I had not noticed
before. On the left side of the fall the water sluiced down in a
sheet to the extreme edge of the cave, almost sprinkling the floor
with water. But on the right side the force of water was obviously
weaker, and a little short of the level of the cave roof there was a
spike of rock which slightly broke the fall. The spike was covered,
but the covering was shallow, for the current flowed from it in a
rose-shaped spray. If a man could get to that spike and could get a
foot on it without being swept down, it might be possible - just
possible - to do something with the wall of the chasm above the cave.
Of course I knew nothing about the nature of that wall. It might be
as smooth as a polished pillar.

The result of these cogitations was that I decided to prospect
the right wall of the cave close to the waterfall. But first I went
rummaging in the back part to see if I could find anything to assist
me. In one corner there was a rude cupboard with some stone and
metal vessels. Here, too, were the few domestic utensils of the dead
Keeper. In another were several locked coffers on which I could make
no impression. There were the treasure-chests too, but they held
nothing save treasure, and gold and diamonds were no manner of use to
me. Other odds and ends I found - spears, a few skins, and a broken
and notched axe. I took the axe in case there might be cutting to
do.

Then at the back of a bin my hand struck something which brought
the blood to my face. It was a rope, an old one, but still in fair
condition and forty or fifty feet long. I dragged it out into the
light and straightened its kinks. With this something could be done,
assuming I could cut my way to the level of the roof.

I began the climb in my bare feet, and at the beginning it was
very bad. Except on the very edge of the abyss there was scarcely a
handhold. Possibly in floods the waters may have swept the wall in a
curve, smoothing down the inner part and leaving the outer to its
natural roughness. There was one place where I had to hang on by a
very narrow crack while I scraped with the axe a hollow for my right
foot. And then about twelve feet from the ground I struck the first
of the iron pegs.

To this day I cannot think what these pegs were for. They were
old square-headed things which had seen the wear of centuries. They
cannot have been meant to assist a climber, for the dwellers of the
cave had clearly never contemplated this means of egress. Perhaps
they had been used for some kind of ceremonial curtain in a dim past.
They were rusty and frail, and one of them came away in my hand, but
for all that they marvellously assisted my ascent.

I had been climbing slowly, doggedly and carefully, my mind
wholly occupied with the task; and almost before I knew I found my
head close under the roof of the cave. It was necessary now to move
towards the river, and the task seemed impossible. I could see no
footholds, save two frail pegs, and in the corner between the wall
and the roof was a rough arch too wide for my body to jam itself in.
Just below the level of the roof - say two feet - I saw the submerged
spike of rock. The waters raged around it, and could not have been
more than an inch deep on the top. If I could only get my foot on
that I believed I could avoid being swept down, and stand up and
reach for the wall above the cave.

But how to get to it? It was no good delaying, for my frail
holds might give at any moment. In any case I would have the moral
security of the rope, so I passed it through a fairly staunch pin
close to the roof, which had an upward tilt that almost made a ring
of it. One end of the rope was round my body, the other was loose in
my hand, and I paid it out as I moved. Moral support is something.
Very gingerly I crawled like a fly along the wall, my fingers now
clutching at a tiny knob, now clawing at a crack which did little
more than hold my nails. It was all hopeless insanity, and yet
somehow I did it. The rope and the nearness of the roof gave me
confidence and balance. Then the holds ceased altogether a couple of
yards from the water. I saw my spike of rock a trifle below me.
There was nothing for it but to risk all on a jump. I drew the rope
out of the hitch, twined the slack round my waist, and leaped for the
spike.

It was like throwing oneself on a line of spears. The solid
wall of water hurled me back and down, but as I fell my arms closed
on the spike. There I hung while my feet were towed outwards by the
volume of the stream as if they had been dead leaves. I was
half-stunned by the shock of the drip on my head, but I kept my wits,
and presently got my face outside the falling sheet and breathed.

To get to my feet and stand on the spike while all the fury of
water was plucking at me was the hardest physical effort I have ever
made. It had to be done very circumspectly, for a slip would send me
into the abyss. If I moved an arm or leg an inch too near the
terrible dropping wall I knew I should be plucked from my hold. I
got my knees on the outer face of the spike, so that all my body was
removed as far as possible from the impact of the water. Then I
began to pull myself slowly up.

I could not do it. If I got my feet on the rock the effort
would bring me too far into the water, and that meant destruction. I
saw this clearly in a second while my wrists were cracking with the
strain. But if I had a wall behind me I could reach back with one
hand and get what we call in Scotland a 'stelf.' I knew there was a
wall, but how far I could not judge. The perpetual hammering of the
stream had confused my wits.

It was a horrible moment, but I had to risk it. I knew that if
the wall was too far back I should fall, for I had to let my weight
go till my hand fell on it. Delay would do no good, so with a prayer
I flung my right hand back, while my left hand clutched the spike.


I found the wall - it was only a foot or two beyond my reach.
With a heave I had my foot on the spike, and turning, had both hands
on the opposite wall. There I stood, straddling like a Colossus over
a waste of white waters, with the cave floor far below me in the
gloom, and my discarded axe lying close to a splash of Laputa's
blood.

The spectacle made me giddy, and I had to move on or fall. The
wall was not quite perpendicular, but as far as I could see a slope
of about sixty degrees. It was ribbed and terraced pretty fully, but
I could see no ledge within reach which offered standing room. Once
more I tried the moral support of the rope, and as well as I could
dropped a noose on the spike which might hold me if I fell. Then I
boldly embarked on a hand traverse, pulling myself along a little
ledge till I was right in the angle of the fall. Here, happily, the
water was shallower and less violent, and with my legs up to the
knees in foam I managed to scramble into a kind of corner. Now at
last I was on the wall of the gully, and above the cave. I had
achieved by amazing luck one of the most difficult of all
mountaineering operations. I had got out of a cave to the wall
above.

My troubles were by no means over, for I found the cliff most
difficult to climb. The great rush of the stream dizzied my brain,
the spray made the rock damp, and the slope steepened as I advanced.
At one overhang my shoulder was almost in the water again. All this
time I was climbing doggedly, with terror somewhere in my soul, and
hope lighting but a feeble lamp. I was very distrustful of my body,
for I knew that at any moment my weakness might return. The fever of
three days of peril and stress is not allayed by one night's rest.

By this time I was high enough to see that the river came out of
the ground about fifty feet short of the lip of the gully, and some
ten feet beyond where I stood. Above the hole whence the waters
issued was a loose slope of slabs and screes. It looked an ugly
place, but there I must go, for the rock-wall I was on was getting
unclimbable.

I turned the corner a foot or two above the water, and stood on
a slope of about fifty degrees, running from the parapet of stone to
a line beyond which blue sky appeared. The first step I took the
place began to move. A boulder crashed into the fall, and tore down
into the abyss with a shattering thunder. I lay flat and clutched
desperately at every hold, but I had loosened an avalanche of earth,
and not till my feet were sprayed by the water did I get a grip of
firm rock and check my descent. All this frightened me horribly,
with the kind of despairing angry fear which I had suffered at
Bruderstroom, when I dreamed that the treasure was lost. I could not
bear the notion of death when I had won so far.

After that I advanced, not by steps, but by inches. I felt more
poised and pinnacled in the void than when I had stood on the spike
of rock, for I had a substantial hold neither for foot nor hand. It
seemed weeks before I made any progress away from the lip of the
waterhole. I dared not look down, but kept my eyes on the slope
before me, searching for any patch of ground which promised
stability. Once I found a scrog of juniper with firm roots, and this
gave me a great lift. A little further, however, I lit on a bank of
screes which slipped with me to the right, and I lost most of the
ground the bush had gained me. My whole being, I remember, was
filled with a devouring passion to be quit of this gully and all that
was in it.

Then, not suddenly as in romances, but after hard striving and
hope long deferred, I found myself on a firm outcrop of weathered
stone. In three strides I was on the edge of the plateau. Then I
began to run, and at the same time to lose the power of running. I
cast one look behind me, and saw a deep cleft of darkness out of
which I had climbed. Down in the cave it had seemed light enough,
but in the clear sunshine of the top the gorge looked a very pit of
shade. For the first and last time in my life I had vertigo. Fear
of falling back, and a mad craze to do it, made me acutely sick. I
managed to stumble a few steps forward on the mountain turf, and then
flung myself on my face.

When I raised my head I was amazed to find it still early
morning. The dew was yet on the grass, and the sun was not far up
the sky. I had thought that my entry into the cave, my time in it,
and my escape had taken many hours, whereas at the most they had
occupied two. It was little more than dawn, such a dawn as walks
only on the hilltops. Before me was the shallow vale with its
bracken and sweet grass, and farther on the shining links of the
stream, and the loch still grey in the shadow of the beleaguering
hills. Here was a fresh, clean land, a land for homesteads and
orchards and children. All of a sudden I realized that at last I had
come out of savagery. The burden of the past days slipped from my
shoulders. I felt young again, and cheerful and brave. Behind me
was the black night, and the horrid secrets of darkness. Before me
was my own country, for that loch and that bracken might have been on
a Scotch moor. The fresh scent of the air and the whole morning
mystery put song into my blood. I remembered that I was not yet
twenty. My first care was to kneel there among the bracken and give
thanks to my Maker, who in very truth had shown me 'His goodness in
the land of the living.'

After a little I went back to the edge of the cliff. There
where the road came out of the bush was the body of Henriques, lying
sprawled on the sand, with two dismounted riders looking hard at it.
I gave a great shout, for in the men I recognized Aitken and the
schoolmaster Wardlaw.