“Anna, Anna!” cried van Nerekool, and in that cry he cast his whole soul; but it was uttered in vain; for just then a sharp bend in the path caused the two girls to disappear behind a great mass of rock.  
When Charles, Murowski and Grenits reached the spot where they had caught this last glimpse of the fugitives, not a trace could be discovered of either of them.
 
“Anna, Anna!” shouted Charles again and again at the top of his voice; but a beautifully distinct echo, reverberating from the opposite hills, seemed only to mock his cries.
 
Our three friends, however, were now compelled to pause. They felt that they could go on no longer, and must stop awhile to regain breath. The exertion, indeed, had been very great; for that little path kept winding upward, ever upward, and the headlong speed with which they had rushed on made [529]a short rest absolutely necessary. Charles, however, every now and then, repeated his cry of “Anna, Anna!” He thought that his voice might perhaps reach the girl and induce her to stop or to turn. But, no other response came to his anxious call, than that of the sportive echo which, sharply and clearly, flung back the two syllables, “Anna, Anna!”
 
When they had rested awhile, and to some extent regained their strength and their wind, the three set off again in pursuit. They had to follow a road which led them along the most eccentric windings up hill and down dale. At one time the path would run sharply round some huge rock, at another it would follow the course of some erratic mountain-stream. Elsewhere again, it ran zigzagging down an almost perpendicular slope; but yet, on the whole, the ground was steadily rising and was evidently leading up to the lofty table-land which is bounded by the cliffs of the Goenoeng Poleng. Very frequently the road would run, for a while, abruptly downhill as it took them into the bottom of some wild ravine; but this, far from giving them rest, only increased the discomfort of travelling. For the sudden change of motion threatened to dislocate their already tired knees and then, every descent was immediately succeeded by a sharp and trying climb which put to tremendous proof the soundness and power of their lungs.
 
But in spite of fatigue, the three men kept hurrying on. Van Nerekool’s impatience would brook no delay. They panted, they caught their breath, they puffed and blew like grampuses; but still they kept on. As they turned every sharp bend in the road, they felt sure that they must catch sight of the fugitives; for certainly they could not have got very far ahead of them. Escape was utterly impossible; for there existed but the one path up the mountain, and that went twisting and turning through a country so wild and so rugged that no human being could leave the footpath either to the right or left. So they anxiously peered round all about them whenever they gained some spot which gave a command of the country; but look as they would, not a glimpse could they catch of either Anna or Dalima.
 
At length the three men gained the top of the plateau, and they felt that, for a few moments, they must again sit down and rest. But yet, they could find no trace of the young girls they were so eagerly following. The road now no longer rose, it merely twisted in and out between huge boulders of rock, between [530]hill tops, and around thick clumps of dwarf shrubs, and thus it offered no extensive view.
 
“They cannot possibly be far ahead of us!” panted van Nerekool. “Let us get on, let us get on! We must be close upon them!”
 
But in this the young man was mistaken—as a matter of fact the girls had really gained very considerably on their pursuers.
 
In the first place, they had a considerable start when the chase began. They had been able to run nimbly along a path which was quite familiar to them, which they had indeed been accustomed to climb almost daily. Their knowledge of the country enabled them to make many a short cut with which the Europeans were unacquainted; and thus they had managed to avoid many a long bend and twist in the road. And lastly, extreme terror seemed to have lent Anna wings, and poor Dalima had been compelled, as best she might, to toil after her young mistress. When they reached the plateau, Anna kept on leading the way and hurrying in a southerly direction. She knew that the sea could not be far away; for the thunder of the breakers, which, for some time, had been audible in the distance as a hoarse murmur, now grew more distinct every moment; and as they sped on they could feel the very soil quivering under the terrific pounding of the mighty ocean on the perpendicular wall of rock.
 
“Where are you running to, Nana?” panted Dalima.
 
“Let us hurry on!” cried Anna impatiently, as she ran, casting behind her many an anxious look.
 
“But, where are we going to, Nana?”
 
“Why yonder!” cried Anna hurriedly as she pointed to the south.
 
“But that way leads to the sea!” cried Dalima.
 
“Just so,” replied Anna, “and that is where I want to go.”
 
“What are we going to do there, Nana?” asked Dalima anxiously.
 
“I know a hiding place where no one will find us or even go to look for us.”
 
“What? There, Nana?”
 
“Yes, yes, do come along—try to make another effort—it cannot be far away!”
 
“A hiding place?” repeated Dalima. “But, Nana, there is nothing over there but the bare rock.”
 
“Aye; but in those rocks there are holes!” cried Anna much excited. [531]
 
“The Goewahs!” exclaimed the baboe in utter dismay.
 
Anna answered a few words which, however, Dalima did not catch. Darting on like a hind, the Resident’s daughter had outstripped her companion. Dalima was naturally very strong and inured to fatigue and exertion; but her condition was beginning to tell upon her. The burden she had to bear and the rapid motion, had utterly exhausted her, and she felt her strength fast ebbing away. The blood began to flush up to her head, her temples throbbed, her eyes seemed covered as with a reddish film; and an insupportable feeling of weariness and listlessness pervaded her entire frame. Still she struggled on game to the last. Her breathing was getting thick and wheezy—she was, in fact, on the point of fainting altogether. But this little Javanese girl was endowed with a tough frame and an indomitable will; and, though almost exhausted, yet she struggled after her companion as mechanically she kept muttering to herself:
 
“Forward! Forward!” Oh no! she could not, she would not leave her Nana in the hour of need.
 
This painful progress went on for some time. At length, after they had turned round an immense boulder which seemed to form a barrier to the path, Anna stood still.
 
Before her, in all its grandeur, lay stretched out the Indian Ocean; and from the height of about twelve hundred feet she could obtain a magnificent view of it.
 
She cast one anxious look behind her. The position she now occupied commanded an extensive view of the path along which she had toiled up; but not a soul could she see stirring on it. Might the pursuit have been given up? It seemed improbable, yet it was possible. Might they have missed the road and gone off on some wrong track? Anna fancied, that every now and then, she had heard her name called out behind her; but that again might very well be the result of her over-wrought imagination. Again and again she eagerly scanned the horizon in all directions. But no, nothing, nothing was to be seen.
 
Somewhat quieted she then turned her attention to poor Dalima, who, panting and moaning, had, by this time, come up to her, and then, almost senseless, had sunk to the ground.
 
Anna sat down by her companion. She tried to cheer her up; she rubbed and kneaded, in native fashion, the muscles of her neck and shoulders, she patted her hands; in fact, she neglected nothing that the most anxious solicitude could [532]suggest until she saw that Dalima had somewhat recovered from her prostration.
 
As soon as she had succeeded in relieving her companion, Anna again gave an anxious nervous look behind her, but still she could perceive nothing. Then she walked forward resolutely to the edge of the slope which ran before her down to the sea.
 
“Yes,” said she, half aloud, “the ladder is still hanging there. I have heard a good many tales about the Goewah Temon. If it must be so—I shall fly there for refuge!”
 
Then, once again, looking to the north, she continued: “But I hope I may not have to undertake that fearful journey—I can see nothing,” she said with a sigh, “if Charles were really on my track, he must have appeared long before this on the table-land!”
 
Therewith she turned her face full to the ocean. Though she was disguised in Javanese dress, yet she was, and always would remain, a child of the West; that is to say, her eyes were open to the glories which Nature was there offering to her gaze.
 
Before her lay the Indian Ocean. On the far horizon it seemed to melt away into the sky; but yet in that distance a line clearly defined the apparent contact of sea and heaven. Closer inland the water wore a dark blue tint, forming a beautiful contrast with the light azure-blue of the heavens. This contrast was rendered more striking still by the tremendous rollers which came up from the South. Those mighty billows looked like long lines of liquid hills, which seemed to detach themselves from the horizon and come rolling in majestically upon the shore of Java.
 
These immense waves were smooth as polished glass; for not the faintest breath of wind so much as ruffled their surface, and thus rising and falling calmly and mysteriously, they looked like the undulations of some vast sheet of dark blue cloth. They came rolling in quietly and regularly like the ranks of an advancing army; and, on the side of the wide ocean, they sloped but very gently, as though the deep were too languid to exert itself. But, on the land-side, the slope was steep and the columns of water came on black as an advancing wall. At first, and seen at a distance, the tops of these advancing waves were smooth and round; but as the watery mass neared the land and the wave rose higher and higher, so gradually did it narrow and grow sharper at the top; [533]and the billows seemed to succeed one another at shorter intervals. At length, the tops lost their rounded form altogether—they became a mere ridge which began to fret angrily—then they sharpened to a mere line which, fast and furious, seemed eager to outstrip the wave itself. A moment after, this line of water began to bend forward, forward, forward still, until it formed an arc of immeasurable length. Presently that graceful curve seemed to fly to pieces and shake itself into a ragged crest of silver foam; and, at last, the entire mass came toppling down, covering the sea with thick milk-white froth which came sparkling, and thundering, and dashing itself into blinding spray against the wall of trachyte which seemed to say to the mighty element: “Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther.”
 
Anna did not venture to look down into the sheer depth below her, where the waters were boiling in their fury. She feared that a look into that giddy depth might shake her resolution should she actually be compelled to attempt the descent. She gazed out far away to the horizon. There, almost due west, she could clearly see Noesa Kembangan, that beautiful hilly island which, with its luxurious vegetation, seemed to float as a basket of flowers on the watery expanse. She could clearly discern its lighthouse standing on the Tjemering hill—standing out clear against the light blue sky like a pillar of cloud arising from among the foliage. Here and there the bosom of the ocean was dotted with a white sail like some big sea-bird disporting itself upon the glassy surface. And, as if chance had wished to accentuate that resemblance, just then a flight of snow-white cranes came hovering by, forming a dull white stripe on the azure sky. They flew harshly screeching towards the West, on their way, probably, to the fishy lagoons and morasses which there abound. The swift and easy flight of these birds suggested a sad thought to poor Anna: “Oh, that I had wings,” she sighed, “that I also could fly, fly far away and be at rest!”
 
And then her fancy carried her back to the past. The image of Charles van Nerekool rose up vividly before her. As in a dream she pictured to herself how happy she might have been by her lover’s side. She could hear that “invitation à la valse” and to its delightful melody she seemed once again to float about with his arm around her. She could hear his first murmured confession of love. She again passed through those delicious moments after the dance in the quiet garden of the Residence. Before her, arose the Pandan grove in which Charles had gently detained her to reiterate his declaration of [534]love. At the rhythmical swell and thunder of the ocean, which was giving forth its mighty melody at her feet, she fancied she could hear again the soft duet played by the cornet and the piccolo:
 
“Un jour l’ame ravie,
Je vous vis si jolie,
Que je vous crus sortie
Du céleste séjour.
Etait-ce donc un ange, une femme,
Qui venait d’embraser mon ame?
Las! Je ne sais encore.… Mais depuis ce beau jour
Je sais que j’aime d’un pur amour.”
She felt once again her lover’s arm around her waist and his voice she could hear whispering to her softly, and saying:
 
“Anna, my darling, I love you, I love you more dearly than words can express, more dearly than my mother, than my sister, more dearly than my own life!”
 
Oh! those precious words! Ah! that heavenly moment! And then, dreaming on, she heard:
 
“Tell me, Anna, tell me. Do you love me, dearest? I know I have already had your answer; but repeat that word once again, now that we are here alone—now that we are here, far from the noise of the world—repeat that little word now, as we are standing under the eye of God himself!”
 
She had treasured up those words. They were engraven as it were, in her heart. Then she could feel the kiss—the first kiss of love which set the seal to her murmured reply. She could feel—
 
But, as at Santjoemeh, so here again, she was destined to be roughly startled out of her reverie. She fancied she could hear the voice of her mother. She would have cur— No, no, not that, she had not the heart to curse anyone; but she cast one reproachful look upwards to heaven, as she felt how so much bliss had been turned to misery and woe. The pleasant dream had vanished.
 
“A blighted life!” she sighed, “a blighted life!”
 
A sudden shriek shook her up out of her day-dream.
 
“Nana!” cried Dalima, “the gentlemen are coming.”
 
And indeed, to Anna’s horror, she then saw in the bend of the path Murowski, van Nerekool, and Grenits, coming along with all speed. Without taking one instant for deliberation she dashed down the slope which led to the awful precipice before her. [535]
 
“Nana! Nana!” cried Dalima beside herself with terror, “what are you about?”
 
The poor Javanese girl did her best to follow her companion; but, before she could fairly stagger to her feet, Anna was far ahead of her, and, fagged and exhausted as Dalima was, she could not pursue her quickly enough. As she neared the edge of the slope which ended in a perpendicular wall of rock running straight down to the sea, she could see Anna lay hold of the upper steps of the rottang-ladder which led down to the deep below.
 
“Nana! Nana!” she cried in heartrending accents.
 
She rushed on—she saw her young mistress place one foot carefully upon the ladder—she saw her body gradually disappearing.
 
“Nana! Nana!”
 
Now, only Anna’s head was visible. That also disappeared, and she could only see one hand clutching at the topmost rung.
 
“Nana! Nana!”
 
The hand let go its hold before Dalima could bend forward to grasp it. It was gone—gone!
 
Then the Javanese girl flung herself flat upon the ground and peered over the edge of the fearful precipice which yawned beneath her. What she saw there was enough to freeze the young blood in her veins. But she had no time to waste in gazing with horror at what was going on below.
 
Once again she shrieked, “Nana! Nana!”
 
Just then she felt some one grasp her arm. She looked up, and van Nerekool was standing beside her.
 
“You here, Dalima!” cried he, not understanding in the least what was going on. “Where is nonna Anna?”
 
“Allah! tobat toean!” cried Dalima, still lying on the ground, but pointing with horror down into the deep.
 
“There? There?” exclaimed Charles beside himself with terror, while he flung himself down on the ground and gazed into that frightful precipice.
 
Fortunately Grenits and Murowski were close behind their friend. He was in a fearfully dangerous position, as he, regardless of all caution, hung over the wall of rock, and it was well for him that his friends firmly grasped his legs.
 
“Charles! Charles!” they cried.
 
“Anna! Anna!” cried van Nerekool in despair—for yonder, far beneath him, he could see the girl cautiously climbing down [536]the long ladder which, made of rottang ropes, was dangling and swaying about under the burden it had to carry.
 
The foot of this crazy ladder dipped into the sea, and was being swayed about by the breakers as they came rolling in shore.
 
When a wave thundered up it swept the end of the ladder into the cave as the water rushed into the opening; and then, when it receded spouting out of the mouth with the force of a cataract, the foot of the ladder was whirled away again in the opposite direction. This violent motion repeatedly dashed Anna up against the face of the rock as she was dangling there far above the surface of the sea, and every now and then a roller would dash its blinding spray upward as if greedy for its prey.
 
At that fearful sight van Nerekool shuddered.
 
“Anna! Anna!” he called again and again in heartrending tones.
 
His voice seemed to reach her above the din of the water. Timidly she glanced upwards. When she saw that face which showed clearly against the blue sky, and which she recognised in an instant, she uttered a faint shriek and hurried down faster than before.
 
Van Nerekool sprang to his feet.
 
“I must go down!” cried he nervously.
 
And before his friends could do anything to prevent him, he had grasped the top of the ladder, had stretched out one foot over the abyss, had placed it into one of the rungs, and had begun his perilous descent.
 
It was now Murowski’s turn, and Grenits’s turn, to fling themselves down flat on the ground.
 
Certainly it was a horrifying sight to behold those two human beings dangling above that roaring sea on one frail ladder of rope. The two men could not speak, they could hardly breathe, so intense was the excitement and tension of that moment. There they lay gazing down, utterly powerless to stretch out even a finger to save their friend.
 
As soon as Anna perceived that van Nerekool was following her she obeyed the impulse which had driven her to flight, and tried to descend more rapidly than before. But, another thought came flashing upon her. She had heard the dessa-people at Ajo talking a great deal about the Goewah Temon. She knew, from them, that, at low water, the entrance to the cave might be reached; and that then the cave itself might be [537]entered. She knew also that this entrance could only be gained by swimming, because the bottom of the cavity was quite six feet below the lowest water mark. She did not mind that, for she could swim like a duck; but—! but—! all this was only practicable at ebb tide, at dead low water, and when the sea was calm and there were no breakers rolling in.
 
But now—! now the waves were dashing with terrific violence against that trachyte wall—It seemed as if every successive wave reached higher—Yet she descended—further down—still down—
 
“Anna! Anna!” cried Charles above her head.
 
At length she reached the top of the vaulted cavity. She knew that, at low water, the opening was about fifty feet high, but how narrow did it look just then! Indeed the greater part of it was covered by the sea. She fancied she might just manage to reach the courses of rottang-rope which led from the mouth of the hole to its interior to assist the gatherers of swallows’ nests in their perilous work.
 
She was putting out her hand to feel for one of those cables.
 
But, as she did so, a wave of enormous strength came rolling up and broke at her feet with a crash like thunder, and fearfully shook the foot of the ladder which hung loosely floating about at the entrance of the cave.
 
Terrified out of her senses, the young girl lost her presence of mind altogether. She let go her grip, and fell backward into the seething water.
 
“A blighted life!” was her last cry as she fell.
 
Van Nerekool had looked down, as he felt the huge wave approaching—he saw his beloved Anna fall backward—he saw her floating in that boiling surf—he saw her tossed and rolled about like a log in that thick mass of white foam. For the merest fraction of a second he could see her glorious mass of jet-black hair waving on the gleaming surface—and then—all was sucked up into the cave and disappeared from his view.
 
To him, she was now lost for ever! There he was, helplessly dangling above the precipice which had just swallowed up his dearest treasure on earth, and—for an instant he knew not what to do. The next moment came the lull and the huge billow was hurrying back to sea. Then the young man saw the immense volume of water spouting out of the cave with magnificent energy; but—in that clear blue column, as it rushed forth, his eye could catch nothing which looked like a human body; and it flashed upon him that, dead or [538]alive, Anna must have been left behind in the cave. She might have clutched hold of some projecting rock, her clothing might have caught somewhere. Quick as lightning he darted down the ladder. The top of that cave he must get to before the next wave came tumbling in. With feverish eagerness he clutched the rungs—he made no use of his feet—he rather slid down and—he just contrived to grasp one of the rottang cables, and get his feet clear of the ladder when, another wave gave it a violent shake which might have compelled him to let go his grip and might have swallowed him up as it had done Anna.
 
Van Nerekool was now, comparatively speaking, safe. Two sturdy cables of considerable thickness were stretched out parallel to one another all along the inner wall of the grot. At intervals these were fastened by gemoetoe cords to the salient parts of the rock. On the lower of these cables Charles could plant his feet, while with his hands he grasped the upper one. Beneath him the sea was roaring and over his head and all around him fluttered the sea-swallows uttering their shrill cries and darting in and out of the mouth of the cave through the blinding spray.
 
Grenits and Murowski from the top of the cliff had eagerly watched all that had passed. They had been horrified at seeing Anna fall and van Nerekool disappear in the cavity.
 
“Well!” cried one of them, “what to do now?”
 
“We can do no good up here,” said the other.
 
Dalima begged them to tell her what they had seen, and as soon as she had heard it she cried:
 
“We must be off at once to the loerah of the dessa Ajo. He has a boat with which, I know, he occasionally visits the Goewahs.”
 
And that brave little Javanese girl, forgetting all about herself and her painful condition, shook off her fatigue and was already far down the pathway before the Europeans had found time to follow her. And, when they came to the foot of the mountain they found the boat of which Dalima had spoken.
 
The loerah made a very wry face when he heard the project of the two Europeans. To try and get to the Goewah Temon in such weather! It could not be done. He pointed to the mouth of the Kali Djeties. There the mountain water flowing down was struggling with the rising tide and made the breakers fly up in clouds of spray. At the sight, which was indeed an awful one, the two friends all but despaired. Must [539]they then give up all hope? Must they leave van Nerekool to perish without an effort?
 
“I will give you fifty guilders, loerah!” cried Grenits, “if you bring me up to the cave!”
 
The Javanese chief scratched the back of his head in sore perplexity.
 
“And I,” cried Murowski, “I give another fifty!”
 
The loerah began to waver. He exchanged a few anxious words with a couple of men who stood by his side. These seemed not so scrupulous. With a gesture of assent they at once sprang into the boat into which the Europeans took their seats also.
 
“Look here,” cried Grenits almost cheerfully, “each of you fellows shall have five-and-twenty guilders if we succeed!”
 
“I will give the same to each of you,” said Murowski, “and now give way with all your might.”
 
The loerah had taken his place in the afterpart of the crazy boat and he held the steering paddle. Even Dalima and our two friends Grenits and Murowski had armed themselves with a paddle and prepared to help the rowers to the best of their ability. Under the impulse of these six blades the boat shot rapidly ahead.
 
At first, as long as the boat was in the bay all went well. The loerah steered straight for the middle of the entrance of the Moeara; for he was anxious to avoid the tossing and the dangerous back-draught of the water along the coast, and thus, helped on by the stream of the river, the little boat sped on like an arrow released from the............