of hanging on for dear life, or being reduced to floundering around once more in the black lake below. And I was filled with the awful fear that the waters would recede with such force, that we should be caught in the resulting vortex and sucked down some dark corridor, never to see the light of day again. Holding grimly on to the ledge with one hand and ever more tightly on to Hermione with the other, I tried to banish these gloomy notions from my mind.
“Are you all right?” It was her voice, straining, breathless in my ear. Her voice, faint and filled with apprehension. Still, it was her voice, expressing concern for me, rather than for her own condition. She was smiling a forlorn, reflective smile; her eyes glistening and moistened from within. I pressed my lips to her brow and to her eyes in turn.
“And what about you? You, O dearest one! Try to hold on. I won’t let you go.”
The smile had reached her eyes. She placed her lips on mine momently.
“Mind your heads!” The caution came bellowing down the well. Hector let fall the coil of rope. We ducked. I seized the cord which had the insubstantial feel of a cow tether, and tying it under Hermione’s arms, prayed that it would do the trick.
“Haul away!” I shouted; and the next instant, she was whirling furiously up the shaft and into the light.
Then came my turn. Spinning up, and over the lip, and back to the land of the living. What blessed relief!
We lay in the long grass, gazing heavenwards, careless of the cutting blades, numb to all discomfort. I was keenly conscious of the song of birds, chirr of cricket, and cicada’s drone: the crescendo came from all around, where none had been before, and smote my ears so long accustomed to the vaulted noiselessness below. Had it always been so, obliterated by absorption or the inner thrum? No. Fair Nature’s mood had revived, shedding all suspicion and every care. The sky was clear once more. The storm had passed; might not have been, were it not for the constant rush of aggravated flow.
Hermione lay beside me. I brushed her lips with mine; no crushing clasp, our slightest contact let the current flow. I smelt her sweetness and I felt the pressure of her smile.
“Now now you two!” Who else but Hector? He was grinning like a Cheshire-cat. “It must be time for tea.” And although I am not inclined to take tea in the tropics, it seemed to me, a very sound idea.
“Tea for three: just follow me.” I drawled. “Would you like it at the ‘Bush’ or the ‘Shampoo’?” ‘Shampoo’ was the waggish invention of Hector, who always referred to the gracious Hotel Tjampuhan by that name.
We decided on the ‘Shampoo’. Hermione, who seemed to have made a most miraculous recovery, wondered whether we should be feasting on soap-suds and pomade, or some other creamy substance. The derivation explained, it was pointed out that cream, as in clotted, was rather hard to come by: at least we should be glad to settle for a pot of Java tea and sticky cakes.
“But how did you manage to find the rope so quickly?” Though each second in that catacomb had been an eternity, yet our ordeal awaiting Hector’s return could not have endured beyond five minutes.
“Simple as pie!” he replied. “You see those cows peering at us somewhat anxiously through the hedge over there?” I turned in the direction his finger was pointing. Sure enough, there were two cows and a calf. “Well, I relieved them of their halters and tether-ropes, having asked their permission of course; tied a couple of knots, and—presto! one splendid sheet capable of hoisting a cow—two cows in fact.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Hermione, with enormous emphasis on ‘beg’. And it was the first time she had laughed and shown her perfect teeth that day.
He also had a way with animals. In my experience, Bali cows tended to be coy and difficult to coax. But these beasts stayed where they were and stood placidly as Hector slipped the halters over their horns, then tied the tethers to tussocks of tall grass. I doubted whether their owner could have performed the task so neatly. I expressed my admiration accordingly.
“Got a few moos chez-nous, you know,” came Hector’s explanation. “Now which way do we go?”
We had emerged in a field of alang-alang, bordered on three sides by quickset of coral-bean and hibiscus, behind which lay rough pasturage, and on the other by a sheer drop into the river. A grass-cutter’s track led perilously near the edge to a movable section of hedge. Crossing terraces of short turf, we soon found ourselves back on the path from which we had deviated with such unforeseen consequences earlier that afternoon.
Presently we passed near the hollow where lurked the entrance to the cave. “I know a great secret passage. Would anyone care to explore?” Our merriment at Hector’s announcement was a trifle forced, I felt. But yes, given the opportunity and more clement weather, I doubted if I would be able to suppress the urge to venture in the cave once more. It contained a mystery that cried out to be solved. I wanted to know the origin of the offering.
Thus musing, we came to another giddy conglomeration of cracked bamboos and wire, suspended high above the surging river. We all three marched across without batting an eyelid between us, though I remembered that I had been rather hesitant in negotiating this particular span previously. Ten minutes later, we were on the main road.
A minibus hove in view and I hailed it.
“What’s this?” scorned Hector. “Can’t stand the pace?”
“Have a care,” I said, “Hermione only stepped off the plane this morning. I know it seems like half a lifetime ago.”
“Right you are,” Hector nodded. “Of course, absolutely right.” Then turning towards his sister; “Forgive me: it must have been a strain. We could all do with a ride.” It was the first nice thing he had said to her.
Later, sitting in the spacious dining-room of the good Hotel “Shampoo” a great array of queerly coloured cakes and buns spread on the table before us, we indulged in reminiscence.
“There was somebody there. There had to be someone,” said Hermione. “I’d go back like a shot to find out who it was. How is it that we saw no one? I’m sure that joss-stick was lit only a few minutes before we came across it. What do you think?” She looked at us both in turn.
But neither Hector nor I could come up with an explanation. And we let it go at that. I should say I let it go at that. The problem was that I was obliged to return to England in only a couple of days’ time. My holiday was up. Otherwise I should have been only too eager to return to the cavern and make it yield its secret.
After tea we adjourned to our respective quarters to clean ourselves up, rest, and put on some dry clothes. This had been my second sodden meal in 24 hours. First we agreed to rendezvous at the Beggars’ Bush for dinner.
Chapter IV
An Unexpected Visitor
DINNER THAT NIGHT was a joyous affair. Having shared such an extraordinary experience, and together courted almost certain death by drowning, the mood at our table was anything but restrained. Our jubilant humour undoubtedly had its effect on the other diners, and I suspect that the daily take of the Beggars’ Bush exceeded the norm quite handsomely. And while the relief afforded by our reprieve may have enhanced the appetite, I cannot recall having sampled a finer bill of fare in any other eatery at any other time. However, the evening did not pass without incident, in the form of an unexpected visitation, which imparted a tremulous note of disquiet
