Chapter 5. While The Raven Croaked

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_ CHAPTER FIVE. WHILE THE RAVEN CROAKED

It was getting well on in the afternoon, but they had hours of daylight before them for their task. To reach the spot would have been a trifle if they had possessed the wings of the grey gull which floated softly overhead as if watching them. A few minutes would have sufficed; for, as the boys had often laughingly said when at home in the centre of the island, where Sir Francis Ladelle's sheltered manor-house stood, near the Doctor's long granite cottage among the scattered dwellings of the fisher-farmers of the place, they could not have walked two miles in any direction without tumbling into the sea. But to reach the mighty cliffs overhanging the Scraw was not an easy task.

The way they chose was along the eastern side of the island, close to the sea, where from north point to south point the place was inaccessible, there being only three places practicable for a landing, and these lying on the west and south. There the mighty storm-waves had battered the granite crags for centuries, undermining them in soft veins till huge masses had fallen again and again, making openings which had been enlarged till there was one long cove; the fissure where they had taken boat with old Daygo; and another spot farther to the south.

The lads had not gone far before they curved suddenly to their left, and struggled through one of the patches of woodland that beautified the island. This was of oak trees and ilex, dwarfed by their position, tortured into every form of gnarled elbow and crookedness by the sea wind, and seldom visited save by the boys, who knew it as a famous spot for rabbits.

It was hard work getting through this dwarf-oak scrub, but they struggled on, descending now into a steep ravine quite in the uninhabited part of the island, and feeling that they might talk and shout as they pleased--for they were not likely to be heard. But they were very quiet, and when hawk or magpie was started, or an old nest seen, they instinctively called each other's attention to it in a whisper.

After a time they were clear of the sombre wood, and had to commence another fight in the hollow of the slope they had to climb, for here the brambles and furze grew in their greatest luxuriance, and had woven so sturdy a hedge that it was next to impossible to get through.

Perseverance, and a brave indifference to thorns, carried them along; and at the end of half an hour they were at the bottom of a gigantic precipice of tumbled-together masses of granite, suggesting that they were at the beginning of the huge promontory which jutted out into the sea, and round which Daygo had refused to take them; the beautiful little rounded bay which they had skirted being to their right; and forward toward the north, and lying away to their left, being the situation of the unknown region always spoken of with bated breath, and called The Scraw.

The lads stopped now, hot, panting and scratched, to stand gazing upward.

"Tired?" said Mike.

"Yes. No," replied Vince. "Come on."

But Mike did not move. He stood looking before him at the rugged masses of granite, grey with lichen and surrounded by brambles, reaching up and up like a gigantic sloping wall that had fallen in ruins.

Vince had begun to climb, and had mounted a few feet, but not hearing his companion following, he turned back to look.

"Why don't you come on?" he cried.

"I was thinking that we can never get up there."

"Not if you stand still at the bottom," said Vince, laughing; and his cheery way acted upon Mike's spirits directly, for he began to follow. It was strange, though, that the laugh which had raised the spirits of one depressed those of the other; for Vince felt as if it was wrong to laugh there in that wild solitude, and he started violently as something rushed from beneath his feet and bounded off to their right.

"Only a rabbit," said Mike, recovering from his own start. "But I say, Cinder, I never thought that there could be such a wild place as this in the island. Oh! what's that?"

They were climbing slowly towards a tall ragged pinnacle of granite, which rose up some ten or fifteen feet by itself, when all at once a great black bird hopped into sight, looking gigantic against the sky, gazed down in a one-sided way, and began to utter a series of hoarse croaks, which sounded like the barkings of a dog.

"Only a raven," said Vince quickly. "Why, I say, Mike, this must be where that pair we have seen build every year! We must find the nest, and get a young one or two to bring up."

"Doesn't look as if he'd let us," said Mike, peering round with his eyes for a stone that he could pick up and hurl at the bird. But, though stone was in plenty, it was in masses that might be calculated by hundredweights and tons.

They climbed on slowly, one helping the other over the hardest bits; the faults and rifts between the blocks of granite, which in places were as regular as if they had been built up, afforded them foothold; but their way took them to the left, by the raven, which gave another bark or two, hopped from the stony pinnacle upon which it had remained perched, spread its wings, and, after a few flaps to right and then to left, rose to the broken ridge above their heads, hovered for a moment, and then, half closing its wings, dived down out of sight.

"Pretty close to the top," cried Vince breathlessly; and he paused to wipe his streaming face before making a fresh start, bearing more and more to the left, and finding how solitary a spot they had reached--one so wild that it seemed as if it had never been trodden by the foot of man.

They both paused again when not many feet from the summit of the slope, their climb having been made so much longer by its laborious nature; and as they stopped, the action of both was the same: they gazed about them nervously, startled by the utter loneliness and desolation of the spot, which might have been far away in some Eastern desert, instead of close to the cliffs and commons about which they had played for years.

Granite blocks and boulders everywhere, save that in places there was a patch of white heather, ling, or golden starry ragwort; and in spite of their determination the desire was strong upon them to turn and hurry back. But for either to have proposed this would have been equivalent to showing the white feather; and for fear that Vince should for a moment fancy that he was ready to shirk the task, Mike said roughly, "Come on," and continued the climbing, reaching the top first, and stretching out his hand, which was grasped by Vince, who pulled himself up and sank down by his companion's side to gaze in wonder from the rugged ridge they had won.

It was not like the edge of a cliff, but a thorough ridge, steep as the roof of an old-fashioned house, down to where, some fifty feet below them, the slope ended and the precipice began.

It was rugged enough, but as far as they could see to right or left there was no way out: they were hemmed in by huge weathered blocks of granite and the sea. There was the way back, of course; but the desire upon both now was to go forward, for the curiosity which had been growing fast ever since they started was now culminating, and they were eager to penetrate the mystery of the place.

"What are we going to do next?" said Mike. "See if we can't get down to the shore, of course;" and Vince seated himself between two rugged, tempest-worn points of rock, and had a long, searching look beyond the edge of the precipice below him.

First he swept the high barrier of detached rock which stretched before him two hundred yards or so distant, and apparently shutting in a nearly circular pool; for he and his companion were at the head of a deep indentation, the stern granite cliffs curving out to right and left, and seeming to touch the rocky barrier, which swarmed with birds on every shelf and ledge, large patches looking perfectly white.

"Seems like a lake," said Mike suddenly, just as Vince was thinking the same thing.

"Yes, but it can't be," said Vince. "Look down there to the left, how the tide's rushing in. Looks as if a boat couldn't live in it a moment."

"And if the tide rushes in boiling like that, there must be a way out. Think there's a great hole right through under the island?"

"No; it looks deep and still there at the other end of the rocks, and-- yes, you can see from here if you stand up. Why, Ladle, old chap, it is running."

Vince had risen, taken hold of one of the jagged pieces of rock, stepped on to a point, and was gazing down to his left at the pent-in sea, which was rushing through a narrow opening between two towering rocks, foaming, boiling, and with the waves leaping over each other, as if forced out by some gigantic power, but evidently hidden from the side of the sea by the great barrier stretched before them.

"I can't see anything," said Mike.

"Climb up a bit. Here--up above me."

Mike began to climb the rugged granite, and had just reached a position from whence he could stretch over and see the exit of the pent-in currents which glided round the little cove or bay, one strongly resembling the water-filled crater of some extinct volcano, when his left foot slipped from the little projection upon which he stood, and, in spite of the frantic snatch he made to save himself, he fell heavily upon Vince, driving him outward, while he himself dropped within the ridge, and for the moment it seemed as if Vince was to be sent rolling down the steep slope and over the edge of the precipice.

But the boy instinctively threw out his hands to clutch at anything to stop his downward progress, and his right came in contact with Mike's leg, gripping the trouser desperately, and the next moment he was hanging at the full extent of his arm upon the slope, his back against the rock, staring outward over the barrier at the sea, while Mike was also on his back, but head downward, with his knees bent over the strait ridge upon which they had so lately been standing.

For quite a minute they lay motionless, too much unnerved by the shock to attempt to alter their positions; while Vince felt that if the cloth by which he held so desperately gave way, nothing could save him, and he must go down headlong to the unseen dangers below.

There was another danger, too, for which he waited with his heart beating painfully. At any moment he felt that he might drag his companion over to destruction, and the thought flashed through his brain, ought he to leave go?

This idea stirred him to action, and he made a vain effort to find rest for his heels; but they only glided over the rock, try how he would to find one of the little shelf-like openings formed between the blocks, which often lay like huge courses of quarried stone.

Then, as he hung there breathing heavily, he found his voice:

"Mike!" he shouted; and the answer came in a smothered tone from the other slope of the steep ridge.

"Hullo!"

"Can you help me?"

"No: can't move; if I do you'll pull me over."

There was a terrible silence for what seemed to be minutes, but they were moments of the briefest, before Vince spoke again.

"Can you hold on?"

Silence, broken by a peculiar rustling, and then Mike said: "I think so. I've got my hand wedged in a crack; but I can't hold on long with my head down like this. Look sharp! Climb up."

"Look sharp--climb up!" muttered Vince, as, raising his left hand, which had been holding on to a projection in the rock at his side, he reached up, and, trying desperately, he managed to get hold of the doubled-over fold at the bottom of his companion's trouser, cramping his fingers over it, and getting a second good hold.

It does not seem much to read, but it took a good deal of his force out of him, and he lay still, panting.

"Pray look sharp," came from the other side.

"Yes. Hold on," cried Vince, as a horrible sensation began creeping through him, which he felt was preparatory to losing his nerve and falling: "I'm going to turn over."

"No, no--don't," came faintly. "I can't hold on."

"You must!" shouted Vince fiercely. "Now!"

Clutching desperately at the frail cloth, he gave himself a violent wrench and rolled himself right over upon his face, searching quickly with his toes for some support, and feeling them glide over the surface again and again, till a peculiar sensation of blindness began to attack him. Then a thrill of satisfaction ran through his nerves, for one boot toe glided into the fault between two blocks, and the tension upon his muscles was at once relieved.

"I can't help it," came faintly to his ears. "You're dragging me over. Help! help!"

_Croak_! came in a hoarse, barking note, and the great raven floated across them not a dozen feet above their heads.

"All right!" cried Vince. "I can manage now." And he felt about with his other foot, found a projection, and having now two resting-places for his feet, one higher than the other, he cautiously drew himself up, inch by inch, till his chin was level with his hands, when, taking a deep, long breath, he forced his toe well against the rock, trusting to a slight projection; and, calling to Mike to try and hold on, he made a quick snatch with one hand at the lad's leg a foot higher, but failed to get a good grasp, his hand gliding down the leg, and Mike uttered a wild cry.

For a moment Vince felt that he must fall, but in his desperation his teeth closed on the cloth beneath him, checking his downward progress; and as his feet scraped over the rock in his efforts to find fresh hold, he found his cliff-climbing had borne its fruits by hardening the muscles of his arms. How he hardly knew, he managed to get hand over hand upon Mike's leg, till he drew himself above the ridge, and in his last effort he fell over, dragging his companion with him, so that they rolled together down the inner slope twenty or thirty feet, till a block checked their progress.

Just then, as they lay scratched and panting, there was a darkening of the air, the soft whishing of wings, and the raven dropped on the big pinnacle close at hand, to utter its hoarse, barking croak as it gazed wickedly at them with first one and then the other eye.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mike, in a peculiarly hysterical tone; "wouldn't you like it? But not this time, old fellow. Oh, don't I wish I had a stone!"

The same memory had come to both, as they lay breathless and exhausted, of seeing this bird or one of its relatives rise from below the cliff edge one day as they approached; and, looking down, they saw upon a ledge, where it had fallen, a dead lamb, upon which the great ill-omened bird had been making a meal.

"Hurt?" said Vince at last, as he sat up and examined his clothes for tears.

"Hurt! why, of course I am. I gave my head such a whack against one of the stones.--Are you?"

"No," said Vince, making an effort to laugh at the danger from which he had escaped. "I say, though, your trousers are made of better cloth than mine."

"Trousers!" said Mike sourly: "you've nearly torn the flesh off my bones. You did get hold of a bit of skin with your teeth, only I flinched and got it away. I say, though--"

"Well? What?" said Vince; for the other stopped. "That's the way down to the Scraw; but you needn't have been in such a hurry to go."

Vince shuddered in spite of his self-control. "I wonder," he said softly, "whether it's deep water underneath or rocks?"

"I don't know that it matters," was the reply. "If it had been water you couldn't have swum in such a whirlpool as it seems to be. So you might just as well have been killed on the rocks. But oh! I say Cinder, don't talk about it."

The boy's face grew convulsed, and he looked so horrified that Vince cried eagerly--

"Here, I say, don't take it like that. It was not so bad as we thought. It wouldn't have happened if you'd held tight instead of blundering on to me."

"Let's talk about something else," said Mike, trying to master his feelings.

"All right. About that cove. You see the water comes rushing in at one side and goes out at the other, and I daresay when the tide turns it goes the other way. I should like to get right down to it, so as to see the water close to."

Mike shuddered. "You won't try again, will you?" he said.

"Try again? Yes. Why not? Why, we might come a million times and never slip again."

"Yes," said Mike, but rather shrinkingly. "Shall we go back home now?"

"No; not till we've had another good look down at the place. Here--hi! you be off, or next time we come we'll bring a gun."

_Croak_! said the raven, and it took flight--not, however, at the words, but from the cap sent skimming up at it where it perched watching them.

"Come on," cried Vince; and his companion sprang up as if ashamed of his weakness.

Then together they climbed back to the scene of their adventure, and had a good look down at the shut-in cove, calmly reconnoitring the danger through which one of them had passed; and, after gazing long at the entrance and place of exit of the tides, they climbed along the ridge for some distance to the right, and then back and away to the left, but they could see nothing more--nothing but the rock-bound bay shut-in from the sea, and whose shore, if there was any, remained hidden from their sight by the projecting edge of cliff at the bottom of the slope below them.

"There," said Vince at last,--"I know how I feel."

"So do I," said Mike: "that we've had all our trouble for nothing."

"No, I don't; I feel as if I shan't be satisfied till I've been right down there and seen what it's like."

"But we can't get there. Nobody could go in a boat."

"Perhaps not. We must climb down."

Mike suppressed a shudder. "Can't be done," he said.

"How do we know till we've looked right down over the edge?"

"Must bring a rope, then?"

"Of course, and one hold it while the other creeps to the edge and looks over."

Mike nodded, and they began to retrace their steps, talking thoughtfully as they went.

"Shall you say anything about our--accident?" asked Mike at last.

"No: only frighten my mother."

"Nor yet about the Scraw, and what we're going to try and do?"

"No: what's the good? Let's find what there is to see first. I say, Cinder, it will be as good as going to a foreign country seeking adventures. Who knows what we may find?"

"Raven's nest, for one thing."

"Yes, I expect that chap has got his wife and young ones somewhere about here. How about a rope? Have you got one at home?"

"Yes; but so have you."

"I'm not very fond of ours," said Vince thoughtfully. "It's a long time since it was new, and we don't want to have any accidents. You bring a coil of new rope from your boat-shed: we'll take care of it. And, I tell you what, I'll bring that little crowbar of ours next time, and a big hammer, so as to drive the bar into some crack. It will be better than holding the rope."

The talk of their future plans lasted till it was nearly time to part, and they were just arranging for their hour of meeting on the next day when they came suddenly upon old Daygo, at the corner of the lane leading down to his comfortable cottage.

"Art'noon," he said, with a nod, and fixing his eyes upon each of them searchingly. "Having a walk?"

"Yes," said Vince carelessly. "When are you going to take us fishing again?"

"Oh! one o' these fine days, my lads; but you're getting to be quite men now, and must think more about your books. Been on the cliffs?"

"Yes," said Vince. "Come on, Mike: it's tea-time."

The boys walked on in silence for some moments, and then Vince spoke.

"I say, Mike, do you think he's watching us?"

"No," said Mike shortly. "You fancy he is, because you've got some cock-and-bull notion that he don't want us to go to the Scraw."

"Perhaps so," said Vince thoughtfully; "but I can't help it. I do think so."

"Well, suppose he does; he said what was right: it is a horribly dangerous place, and all the people keep away from it because they've got ideas like his."

"Maybe," said Vince, with his brow all in puckers. "But never mind; we'll go and see." _

Read next: Chapter 6. Haunted By The Scraw

Read previous: Chapter 4. Cinder Has Discovery On The Brain

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