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16 - The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain · Adventure Books Library

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Chapter thirty one, Found and lost again. Now to return to Tom and
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Becky's share in the picnic, they tripped along the murky aisles with the rest
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of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave, wonders dubbed with
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rather over descriptive names such as the drawing Room, the cathedral, Aladdin's Palace,
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and so on. Presently, the hide and seek frolicking began, and
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Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal, until the exertion began to grow
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a trifle wearisome. Then they wandered down a sinuous avenue, holding their candles
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aloft and reading the tangled webwork of names, dates, post office addresses,
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and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed in the candle smoke.
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Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a
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part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names
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under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where
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a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment
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with it, had in the slow dragging ages formed a laced and ruffled niagara
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in gleaming an imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order
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to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of
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steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition
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to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they
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made a smoke mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They
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wound this way and that far down into the secret depths of the cave,
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made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper
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world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling
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depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg.
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They walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it
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by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them
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to a bewitching spring whose basin was encrusted with a frost work of glittering crystals.
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It was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many
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fantastic pillars, which had been formed by the joining of great stalac tights and
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stalac mites together, the result of the ceaseless water drip of centuries under the
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roof, vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch.
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The lights disturbed the creatures, and they came flocking down by hundreds,
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squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger
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of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the
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first corridor that offered, and none too soon for a bat struck Becky's light
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out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats
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chased the children a good distance, but the fugitives plunged into every new passage
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that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found
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a subterranean lake shortly which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost
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in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it
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would be best to sit down and rest awhile first. Now, for the
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first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the
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spirits of the children. Becky said, why I didn't notice, But it
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seems ever so long since I heard of any of the others. Come to
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think, Becky, we are away down below them, and I don't know
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how far away north or south or east or whichever it is. We couldn't
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hear them here. Becky grew apprehensive. I wonder how long we've been down
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here, Tom, we'd better start back, Yes, I reckon, we
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better, Perhaps we better. Can you find the way, Tom, It's
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all a mixed up crookedness to me. I reckon I could find it.
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But then the bats, if they put both of our candles out, it
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will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way so as not to
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go through there. Well, but I hope we won't get lost. It
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would be so awful, And the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful
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possibilities. They started through a corridor and traversed it in silence a long way,
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glancing at each new opening to see if there was anything familiar about the
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look of it, but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an
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examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign and he would say
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cheerily, Oh it's all right, This ain't the one, but we'll come
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to it right away. But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure,
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and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random in desperate
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hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was all
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right, but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words
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had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said all is lost.
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Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard
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to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last. She
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said, Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, Let's go back that
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way. We seemed to get worse and worse off all the time. Tom
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stopped listen, said he profound silence, silence so deep that even their breathings
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were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the
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empty aisles, and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled
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a ripple of mocking laughter. Oh don't do it again, Tom, It
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is too horrid, said Becky. It is horrid, but I better,
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Becky. They might hear us, you know, and he shouted again.
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The mte was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter. It so confessed
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the perishing hope. The children stood still and listened, but there was no
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result. Tom turned upon the back track at once and hurried his steps.
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It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another
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fearful fact to Becky. He could not find his way back. Oh,
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Tom didn't make any marks, Becky. I was such a fool, Such
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a fool. I never thought we might want to come back. No,
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I can't find the way. It's all mixed up, Tom, Tom,
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We're lost. We're lost. We never can get out of this awful place.
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Oh why did we ever leave the others? She sank to the ground
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and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea
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that she might die or lose her reason. He sat down by her and
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put his arms around her. She buried her face in his bosom. She
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clung to him. She poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and
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the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck
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up Hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming
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and abusing himself forgetting her into this miserable situation, and this had a better
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effect. She said she would try to Hope again. She would get up
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and follow wherever he might lead, if only he would not talk like that
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any more, For he was no more to blame than she, she said.
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So they moved on again, aimlessly, simply at random. All they
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could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while. Hope
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made a show of reviving, not with any reason to back it, but
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only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken
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out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By and by Tom took
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Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much. Words were
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not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that
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Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets, Yet
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he must economize. By and by fatigue began to assert its claims. The
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children tried to pay no attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting
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down when time was grown to be so precious. Moving in some direction.
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In any direction was at least progress and might bear fruit. But to sit
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down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last, Becky's frail
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limbs refused to carry her farther. She said down. Tom rested with her,
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and they talked of home and the friends there, and the comfortable beds,
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and above all the light. Becky cried, and Tom tried to think
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of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with
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use and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed
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off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face
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and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams, and
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by and by a smile dawned and rested there The peaceful face reflected somewhat of
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peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to by
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gone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky
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woke up with a breezy little laugh, but it was stricken dead upon her
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lips, and a groan followed it. Oh, how could I sleep?
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I wish I never never had waked. No, no, I don't Tom,
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don't look so I won't say it again. I'm glad you've slept,
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Becky. You'll feel rested now and we'll find the way out. We can
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try, Tom, but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream.
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I reckon, we're going there. Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up,
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Becky, and let's go on trying. They rose up and wandered along,
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hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had
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been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and
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weeks, And yet it was plain that this could not be, for their
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candles were not gone yet. A long time after this, they could not
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tell how long. Tom said they must go softly and listen to dripping water.
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They must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said
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it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said
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she thought she could go on a little farther. She was surprised to hear
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tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom
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fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought
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was soon busy Nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence.
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Tom, I'm so hungry. Tom took something out of his pocket.
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Do you remember this? Said he? Becky almost smiled. It's our wedding
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cake. Tom. Yes, I wish it was as big as a barrel,
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for it's all we've got. I saved it from the picnic for us
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to dream on, Tom, the way crown up people do with wedding cake.
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But it'll be our. She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom
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divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his
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moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with by and
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by, Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment,
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then he said, Becky, can you bear it if I tell you
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something? Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. Well, then,
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Becky, we must stay here where there's water to drink. That little
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piece is our last candle. Becky gave loose to tea and wailings. Tom
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did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length,
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Becky said Tom, Well, Becky, they'll miss us and hunt for
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us. Yes, they will, certainly they will. Maybe they're hunting for
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us, now, Tom, Why I reckon? Maybe they are? I
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hope they are. When would they miss us, Tom? When they get
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back to the boat, I reckon, Tom, it might be dark.
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Then would they notice we hadn't come? I don't know, but anyway,
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your mother would miss you as soon as they got home. A frightened look
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in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses, and he saw that he had
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made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night. The
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children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment, a new burst of grief
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from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers, also
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that the Sabbath morning might be half spent. Before Missus Thatcher discovered that Becky
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was not at Missus Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of
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candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away, saw the half inch of
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wicks stand alone. At last, saw the feeble flame rise and fall climb,
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the thin column of smoke linger at its top. A moment, and
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then the horror of utter darkness reigned. How long afterward it was that Becky
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came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms. Neither could
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tell. All that they knew was that, after what seemed a mighty stretch
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of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their
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miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now, maybe Monday.
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He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive.
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All her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed
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long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout
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and maybe some one would come. He tried it, but in the darkness
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the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours
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wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of
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Tom's half of the cake was left. They divided and ate it, but
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they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only wetted desire.
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By and by, Tom said, sh did you hear that? Both held
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their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest far off shout.
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Instantly, Tom answered it, and, leading Becky by the hand,
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started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently, he listened again.
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Again, the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer, it's them,
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said Tom, they're coming. Come along, Becky, we're all right
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now. The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow,
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however, because pitfalls were somewhat common and had to be guarded against.
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They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet
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deep, it might be a hundred. There was no passing it at any
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rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he
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could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came.
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They listened evidently, the distant shoutings were growing more distant. A moment
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or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart sinking misery of it.
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Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use.
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He talked hopefully to Becky, but an age of anxious waiting passed and no
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sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The
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weary time dragged on. They slept again and awoke, famished and woe stricken.
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Tom believed it must be Tuesday. By this time. Now an idea
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struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be
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better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in
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idleness. He took a kite line from his pocket, tied it to a
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projection, and he and Becky started Tom in the lead, unwinding the line
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as he groped along. At the end of twenty paces, the corridor ended
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in a jumping off place. Tom got down on his knees and felt below,
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and then as far round the corner as he could reach with his hands.
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Conveniently, he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the
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right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand
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holding a candle appeared from behind a rock. Tom lifted up a glorious shout,
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and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to injun Joe's.
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Tom was paralyzed. He could not move. He was vastly gratified the
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next moment to see the Spaniard take to his heels and get himself out of
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sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and
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killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice.
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Without doubt that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle
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in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to
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get back to the spring, he would stay there, and nothing should tempt
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him to run the risk of meeting injun Joe again. He was careful to
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keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had
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only shouted for luck. But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the
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long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes.
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The children awoke, tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it
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must be Wednesday or Thursday, or even Friday or Saturday now, and that
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the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He
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felt willing to risk injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very
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weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused.
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She said she would wait now where she was and die. It would not
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be long. She told Tom to go with his kite line and explore if
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he chose, but She implored him to come back every little while and speak
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to her, and she made him promise that when the awful time came,
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he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom
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kissed her with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of
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being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave. Then he
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took the kite line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages
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on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming
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doom. End of chapter thirty one, Chapter thirty two, turn out there
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found. Tuesday afternoon came and wane to the twilight. The village of Saint
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Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had
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been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had
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the petitioner's whole heart in it, But still no good news came from the
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cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back
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to their daily vocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be
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found. Missus Thatcher was very ill and a great part of the time,
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delirious people said it was heart breaking to hear her call her child and raise
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her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily
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down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy,
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and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest
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on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn away. In the middle of the night,
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a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the
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streets were swarming with frantic, half clad people who shouted, turn out,
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turn out, They're found, They're found. Tin pans and horns were added
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to the din. The population massed itself and moved toward the river. Met
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the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens. Thronged around.
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It, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street,
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roaring Huzza after Hazza. The village was illuminated. Nobody went to bed again.
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It was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the
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first half hour, a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized
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the saved ones and kissed them squeezed Missus Thatcher's hand, tried to speak,
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but couldn't, drifted out, raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's
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happiness was complete, and Missus Thatcher's nearly so it would be complete. However,
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as soon as the messenger dispatched with a great news to the cave should
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get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager
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auditory about him, and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in
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many striking additions to adorn it withal, and closed with a description of how
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he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition. How he followed two avenues
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as far as his kite line would reach, how he followed a third to
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the fullest stretch of the kite line, and was about to turn back when
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he glimpsed a far off speck that looked like daylight, dropped the line and
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groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and
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saw the broad Mississippi rolling by. And if it had only happened to be
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night, he would not have seen that speck of daylight, and would not
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have explored that passage any more. He told how he went back for Becky
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and broke the good news, and she told him not to fret her with
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such stuff, for she was tired and knew she was going to die and
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wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her, and
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how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw
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the blue speck of daylight. How he pushed his way out at the hole
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and then helped her out. How they sat there and cried for gladness.
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How some men came along in a skiff, and Tom hailed them and told
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them their situation and their famished condition. How the men didn't believe the wild
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tale at first, because said they you are five miles down the river below
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the valley the cave is in. Then took them aboard, rode to a
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house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after
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dark, and then brought them home before day dawn. Judge Thatcher and the
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handful of searchers with him were tracked out in the cave by the twine clues
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they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days
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and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off
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at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bed ridden all
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of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn
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all the time. Tom got about a little on Thursday, was downtown Friday
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and nearly as whole as ever Saturday, but Becky did not leave her room
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until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting
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illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday,
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but could not be admitted to the bedroom, neither could he on Saturday or
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Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still
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about his adventure and introduced no exciting topic. The widow Douglas stayed by to
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see that he obeyed. At home, Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event,
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also that the ragged man's body had eventually been found in the river near
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the ferry landing. He had been drowned while trying to escape, Perhaps about
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a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck,
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who had grown plenty strong enough now to hear excited talk, and Tom
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had some that would interest him. He thought, Judge Thatcher's house was on
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Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The judge and some friends
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set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like
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to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it.
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The judge said, well, there are others just like you. Tom.
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I've not the least doubt, but we have taken care of that.
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Nobody will get lost in that cave any more. Why because I had its
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big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago and triple locked, and I've
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got the keys. Tom turned as white as a sheet. What's the matter?
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Boy? Here? Run? Somebody fetch a glass of water. The
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water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. Ah, now you're all right?
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What was the matter with you? Tom? Oh? Judge injun Joe's
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in the cave, end of chapter thirty two,