p. 537 | A PRISON UNDER THE SEA by David Ker

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 2, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 34.

A PRISON UNDER THE SEA.

By David Ker

A TRUE STORY, BY DAVID KER.

"I'll tell you what, my boys, it's a good job for us that the tide is so low, for if it came up and caught us here, we should all be drowned like rats!"

"Well, I suppose that would just suit old Jim: he's never happy except when he's doing his best to get killed."

"Perhaps," laughed Jim, "I might be a descendant of the Irishman who vowed to hang himself or perish in the attempt."

"Ay, and you will perish in the attempt if you don't look out, but I wish you wouldn't try quite so hard to make us perish along with you. Do you remember, George, how Jim took us into the seal's cave, where there was only just room for one man to pass at a time, so that if even one seal had thought of coming back while we were there, it might have eaten us all, one after the other, as our friend Giant what's his name did with the sailors of Ulysses?"

"And he made us let him down with a rope over the edge of a precipice," cried George, "onto a ledge no broader than my hat, just to get hold of an egg not worth twopence!"

"It certainly wasn't worth twopence when I'd done with it," chuckled Jim, "for I smashed it against the rocks in getting back; but that, after all, only showed that I was not inclined to bare the yolk."

"No," grinned George; "it showed that you were egged onto it."

The three brave English lads who spoke thus had indeed thrust themselves into a perilous adventure; and though they talked so lightly, they all saw the danger clearly enough.

On the rocky coast of Devonshire—one of the most dangerous as well as the most beautiful portions of the whole English seaboard—the waves have tunneled out a small cave in the back of a huge projecting cliff, only to be reached by narrow openings just wide enough for a man to crawl through, which are poetically called "The Eyes," by the native fishermen. Through these holes our heroes had made their way into the cave, where they had a famous time hunting crabs, splashing through pools, leaping from point to point of the slippery rocks, crowning each other with wreaths of seaweed, and making every nook and cleft of the dark cavern ring with an uproarious impromptu parody of "Over the Sea."

"Under the sea, under the sea, In the home of the lobster, how happy are we! Under the sea, under the sea, We'll be snug till the tide comes again."

At length, determined not to leave anything unseen now that they were there, the young explorers lighted a candle, which they had brought with them, and fixed it in the crack of a rock, chuckling at the thought of management that would be felt by all the homeward-bound fishermen at the sight of this

sudden and strange lighting up of The Eyes, amid the gathering dimness of the evening.

But, as their ill luck would have it, the candlelight showed them another opening at the far end of the cave, which seemed to lead into an inner grotto going still deeper into the heart of the cliff. This was quite enough for their daring leader, who, as if bent upon showing how fully he deserved his popular nickname of "Mad Jim," insisted on crawling through this hole, "to see what the place was like."

"Don't make a fuss about nothing, old fellows," he said in answer to the remonstrances of his two friends. "I don't suppose I shall find anything uglier than myself inside."

"Highly improbable," muttered George with a broad grin.

"And if I light upon a shark or an octopus mounting guard in there," went on Jim, calmly ignoring the sarcasm, "I'll just bring him out along with me, and we'll have him for supper."

So saying, he thrust his feet into the cleft, and began to wriggle his way through. It was a very "close fit;" but luckily, or, rather, unluckily for him, the sharp points of the rock sloped the other way, and he at length made good his entrance, though not without a scratch or two.

His comrades handed him the light through the gap, and he just had time to discover that he was in a large, high-roofed, nearly circular cave, with no openings in its rocky walls save the one by which he had entered, when the quick ears of the two sentinels in the outer cavern caught a distant sound which the pair only knew too well.

"I say, old man, you'd better look alive!" shouted he through the hole; "the tide's coming back to its lodging, and if it finds us in the act of committing a burglary on the premises perhaps it won't be pleased."

"Hold on half a minute," answered Jim, who was evidently very far from realizing the immediate danger he was in; "I want to have a good look at the way the water has hollowed out these arches." But as he held up his candle for a better view, a sudden splash of water from a bunch of seaweed overhead effectually cut short his inspection by putting out the light. "Well," cried he with a laugh, which came echoing up hoarse and hollow through the rocky cleft, as if issuing from a tomb, "that's rather a mean trick, but if it won't let me see any more, I suppose I had better come out." And he thrust himself head foremost into the gap.

"Come along, old fellow," cried George impatiently; "the tide's coming up full split, and we have another hole to get through, you know."

"It's all very fine to say come along," retorted Jim; "but what if I can't?"

In fact, poor Jim found to his cost that it was easier to get in than to get out again, for the jagged points of the rock, all jutting inward, now caught him like the teeth of a man-trap. He barely succeeded in wriggling his head and one arm through the gap, and then he stuck fast, unable to move forward or backward.

"Do you mean to say, old boy, that you can't get through?" cried George as he and his comrade anxiously watched their friend's vain struggles, neither of them daring to hint to the other of the ghastly thought that was beginning to rise in the minds of both.

"It don't look very much like it," replied Jim, forcing a laugh. "I suppose I must try it the other way. I came in here feet first, so perhaps I can go out in the same style. Give us a shove, boys."

And then, making a violent effort, he succeeded in backing out of the hole on his own side, whence he instantly made a fresh attempt feet foremost.

But to their utter dismay, though he had got so far, there was no getting him one inch farther. They tugged till their faces grew purple, and Jim seconded them with all his might, but it was all in vain. And then there came back upon all three with a sudden thrill of horror the memory of poor Jim's light jest on entering this fatal prison about his finding nothing there uglier than himself. He had found something uglier—he had found death!

"It's no use, boys," said the doomed lad, faintly. "Save yourselves while you can—it's all over with me."

"Shut up," cried George fiercely; "do you take us for cowards? We won't budge till we've got you out."

But every word of this bold defiance fell like lead upon his own heart, for he felt that he spoke without hope; and in the gloomy silence that followed the roar of the hungry tide was heard more plainly than before.

"I have it!" cried Jim, suddenly showing even in his deadly crisis the cool readiness which was to make him so renowned in after years. "It must be my clothes that stop me; I'll pull them off and try again."

In a trice he had stripped himself, and, passing his clothes through the gap, made one final effort to force his way out. Even then, however, the cruel rock teeth did not easily quit their prey, and he was bleeding from more than one deep gash when his friends at length dragged him out of that living tomb, gasping and exhausted.

For several weeks to come this hairbreadth escape was the talk of the whole district; but the adventure was recalled with a deeper and gloomier interest not many years later, when "Mad Jim," its principal hero, had become famous throughout the whole world as Bishop Harrington, the martyr missionary of Uganda.

—Harper's Young People.