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best give ’em the good-bye, p’raps. However, ’tain’t no use talking.
They’re all armed to the teeth; and even now, with their reduced
numbers, they are eight to one, to say nothing of them great
bloodhounds, which, I notice, the chief has left behind him—just to
worrit us, I’ll be bound.”
“As to escaping,” I said, “it’s impossible. Even if we tried to break
away when we’re out for exercise, the pirates would shoot us down
before we could get clear of the terrace, and—”
I was interrupted by the sentries taking up their position at the
doorway; and it was dangerous to converse on such a topic, for fear
that some of them knew a smattering of English.
I racked my brains to think of any plan of escape. So did my
fellow-prisoners. Nothing seemed feasible. Our prospects were dark
indeed, unless help came from over the seas; and even in that
eventuality it might be the sounding of our death-knell, for we felt
convinced that the pirates, if worked up to a frenzy, would not stick at
trifles.
We invented a sort of gibberish language, in which we could
converse without fear of being understood; but even this we used
with extreme caution, for fear of accidents. The words were formed
in a very simple manner, although it required some practice to speak
them rapidly; and of course, the quicker the enunciation, the less
chance of the gibberish being intelligible to others.
One morning, when we were feeling particularly despondent, and
had hardly been able to get through our not very appetising
breakfast, we felt a sudden and very alarming oscillation of the
ground on which we were seated, and this was followed by a deep
rumble like the sound of thunder or distant artillery.
“An earthquake, surely!” exclaimed Mr. Triggs in a tone which
sounded almost terror-stricken.
“Or is it the guns of a fleet?” I cried wildly; “friends come at last to
release us.”
“Don’t be alarmed or put about,” said Ned, who had remained
perfectly calm; “’tis only an earthquake, and a slight one at that. I’ve
felt heaps of ’em off the coast of Chili, and don’t care a snap of the
fingers for ’em. They are as common in them regions as wet days
are in England.”
Mr. Triggs looked relieved.
“Well, ’tis my first experience of ’em,” he said, “and I can tell you I
don’t want to have another.”
Scarcely had the words escaped his lips when a far more violent
oscillation shook the solid earth, followed by the same uncanny
subterranean rumble. Then a loud crash, like the sound of falling
rocks, smote upon our ears, followed by terrified screams and shouts
from human voices.
CHAPTER XX.
THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE.