hist moment to warn me a<^ainst ' that feUow with the
devilisli eyes/ As I stood on deck and watched his
stift' httle figure wavin<^ me farewell until it melted
into the crowd, and Bomhay sank behind me as the city
of a dream, I wondered with sadness on the little chance
we had of ever meetin
voice at my elbow amusi-d me.
"'Odd man, that Iricnd of yours — made up of
emotion, and afraid of his life t
you a favour ? '
" ' He has/ I r('|ilicd, 'as o-roat a favour as one man
can do for another/
" ' Ah,^ said he, ' I thought as much. That's why
he is so full of gratitude/
"Dee. ()th. — Never shall I forget the dawn out ol
which Ceylon, the land of my promise, arose into view.
I was early on deck to catch the first sight of land.
Very slowly, as I stood gazing into the east, the pitch-
black darkness turned to a pale grey, and discovered a
long, narrow streak, shaped like the shields one sees in
Bible prints, and rising to a point in the centre. Then,
as it seemed to me, in a moment, the sun was up and as
if by magic the shield had changed into a coast fringed
with palms and swelling upwaixls in green and gradual
slopes to a chain of mighty hills. Around these some
light, fleecy clouds had gathered, but sea and coast
were radiant with summer. So clear was the air that
1 could distinu'uisli the red sand of the beaches autl the
COLOMBO. 12o
white trunks of the palms that crowded to the shore ;
and then before us arose Colombo^ its white houses
gleaming" out one by one.
" The sun was high by the time our pilot came on
boardj and as we entered the harbour the town lay
deep in the stillness of the afternoon. We had cast
anchor, and I was reflecting on my next course of action
when I heard my name called from under the ship's side.
Looking down, I spied a tall, g'rave gentleman seated in
a boat. I replied as well as I could for the noisCj and
presently the stranger clambered up on deck and an-
nounced himself as Mr, Eversleigh, to whom Mr. San-
derson had recommended me. I had no notion until
this moment — and I state it in proof of Mr. Sanderson^s
kindness — that any arrangement had been made for
entertaining me at Colombo. It is true that Mr. San-
derson had told mCj on the night when our acquaintance
began, to send this gentleman's address to Margery,
that her letter might safely reach me ; but beyond this .
I knew nothing. Mr. Eversleigh shook me by the
hand, and, to my unspeakable joy, handed me my dear
wife's letter.
^' I say to my unspeakable joy, for no words can
tell, dear wife, with what feelings I read your letter as
the little boat carried me uj) to the quay. How often
during the idle days of my recovery have I lain wonder-
ing how you and Jasper were passing this weary time,
and cried out on the weakness that kept me so long
dallying. Patience, dear heart, it is but a little time now.
1 :l I 1)1, \ I) man's rock.
" I have forgotten tos])eak of Collivei-. He lias Ixon
as cleHglitful and iiulift'orent as ever tluoughout the
V(>ya<^o. Certainly I can find n»> reason for crediting
Mr. Sanderson's suspicions. In the hurry of landing I
missed liiin, not (.'Vfii having opportiniity t<» ask ahout
his plans. Doubtless I shall see him in a day or two.
"Dee. loth. — \Vhat an entrancing eonntry is this
Ceylon ! The monsoon is upon us, and hinders my
journey: indet tl^ Mr. Iwersleigh advises me nut to start
for some weeks. He promises to accompany me to the
Peak if I can wait, hut the suspense is hard to hear.
Meantime I am drinking in the marvels of Colombo.
The (juaint names over the sliops, the bright dresses of
white and red, the priests with tlirii- mbes of llaming
yellow — all these are diverting enough, but words cannot
tell of the beauty of the country here. The roads are all
of some strange red soil, and run lor miles beneath the
most beautiful trees imaginable — bamboos, palms, and
others unknown to me, but covered with crimson and
yellow blossom. Then the long stretches of rice fields,
and again more avenues of palms, with here and there a
lovely pool by the wayside — all this I cannot here describe.
But most wonderful of all is the monsoon which rages
over the country, wrapping the earth sometimes in sheets
of lightning which turn sea, sky and earth to one vivid
world of flame. The wind is dry and parching, so that
all windows are kept carefully closed at night; but,
indeed, the mosquitoes are suflicient excuse for that. I
have seen nothing of Colliver and Railton.
IN CEYLON. 1:35
"Dec. 31st. — New Year's Eve, and, as I hope, the
dawn of brighter days for us, dear wife. Mr. Evers-
leig-h has to-night been describing Adam's Peak to me.
Truly this is a most marvellous mountain, and its effect
upon me I find hard to put into words. To-day I
watched it standing solitary and royal from the low
hills that surround it. At its feet waved a very sea of
green forest, around its summit were gathered black
clouds charged with lightning. Mr. Eversleigh tells
me of the worship here paid to it, and the thousands of
pilgrims that wear its crags with their patient feet.
Can I hope to succeed when so many with prayers so
much more holy have failed ? Even as I write, its un-
moved face is mocking the fire of heaven. I dream of
the mountain ; night and day it has come to fill my life
Avith dark terror. I am not by nature timid or des-
pondent, but it is hard to have to wait here day after
day and watch this goal of ray hopes — so near, j^et
seemingly so forbidding of access,
", On looking back I find I have said nothing about
the house where I am now staying. It lies in the
Kolpetty suburb, in the midst of most lovely gardens,
and is called Blue Bungalow, from the colour in which
it is painted. I have made many excursions with Mr.
Eversleigh on the lagoon ; but for me the onl}^ object
in this land of beauty is the great Peak. I cannot
endure this idleness much longer. Colliver seems to
have vanished : at least, I have not seen him.
" Jan. 2.5th, 1849. — I have been in no mood lately
I2(j ui:ad man's hock.
to niako any Fivsli entry in my Jmirnal. Hut to-niomtw
I start for Adam's Peak. At the last moment my host
linils himself unaMc to g-o with me, much as he protests
he desires it ; hut tw<^ of his servants will act as my
i;'uides. It is ahdut sixty miles from Cnlondx) to the
foot of the Peak, so that in four days fmrn this time I
hope to lay my hand upon the secret. The two natives
(their real names I do n
lias christened them Peter and Paul, which I shall
dou1)tloss find more easy of mastery than their true
outlandish tith's) are, as T am assured, trusty, and have
visited the mountain hefore. We take little baj^i^j^o
heyoiul the neeessary food and one of my host's <^uns.
I cannot tell how impatient I am feeling.
" Feb. 1st. — My journey to the Peak is over.
AVhether from fatigue or excitement I am feeling
strangely light-headed to-day ; but let me attempt to
describe as briefly as I can my adventure. We set out
from Colombo in the early morning of Jan. 2Gth. For
about two-thirds of our journey the road lies along the
coast, stretching through swampy rice-fields and inter-
minal)le cocoanut avenues until Ratnapoora is reached.
So far the scenery does not greatly differ from that of
Colombo. But it was after we left Ratnapoora that I
first realised the true wonders of this land. Our road
rose almost continuously by narrow tracks, which in
some places, owing to the late heavy rains, were almost
impassable; but Peter and Paul worked hard, and so
reduced the delay. AVe had not left Ratnapoora far
THROUGH THE HILL-COIfN! RY. 1 '2 7
behind when we pkmged into a tangled forest, so dense
as almost to blot out the light of day. On either hand
deep ravines plunged precipitately down, or giant trees
enclosed us in black shadow. Where the sun's rays
penetrated, myriads of brilliant insects flashed like
jewels ; yellow butterflies, beetles with wings of ruby-
red or gold, and dragonflies that picked out the under-
growth with fire. In the shadow overhead flew and
chattered crowds of green paroquets and glossy crows,
while here and there we could see a Bird of Paradise
drooping its smart tail-feathers amid the foliage. A
little further, and deep in the forest the ear caught the
busy tap-tap of the woodpecker, the snap of the toucan^s
beak, or far away the deep trumpeting of the elephant.
Once we startled a leopard that gazed a moment at us
with flaming eyes, and then was gone with a wild bound
into the thicket. From tree to tree trailed hosts of
gorgeous creepers, blossoming in orange, white and
crimson, or wreathing round some hapless monarch of
the forest and strangling it with their rank growth.
Still we climbed.
'' The bridle-track now skirted a torrent, now
wound dizzily round the edge of a stupendous cliff,
and again plunged into obscurity. Here and there the
ruins of some ancient and abandoned shrine confronted
us, its graceful columns entwined and matted with
vegetation ; or, again, where the forest broke off and
allowed our eyes to sweep over the far prospect, the
guides would point to the place where stood, hardly to
128 DKAD man's rock.
be (loscrieil, the wVu-s of some doiul city, desolate ami
shrined in desolation. Even I, who knew nothinj^ of
the ])ast <^lories of Ceylon, eonld not help being possessed
with nielaneholy thoughts as I passed now a mass of
deserted masonry, now a broken column, the sole wit-
nesses of generations gone for ever. Some were very
richly carved, but Nature's tracery was rapidly blotting
out the handiwork of man, the twining convolvulus
usurping the glories of the patient chisel. Still uj) we
climbed, where hosts of chattering monkeys swung from
branch to branch, or poised screaming overhead, or a
frightened si-rpcnt rose with hissing mouth, and then
glided in a Hash back through the undergrowth. Out-,
that seemed to me of a pure silver-v.'hite, started almost
from under my feet, and darted away before I could
recover myself. We hardly spoke; the vastness of
Nature hushrd our tongues. It seemed i)resumpti
to raise my gun against any of the inhabitants of this
spot where man seemed so mean, so strangely out of
jdace. Once 1 paused to cut back with my knife the
creepers that hid in inextricable tangle a solitary and
exquisitely carved archway. But the archway led no-
where, its god and temple alike had i^erishcd, and
already the plants have begun their tireless work again.
" Between the stretches of wilderness our road often
led us across rushing streams, difficult to ford at this
season, or up rocky ravines, that shut in with their
towering walls all but a patch of blue overhead. Emerg-
insr from these we would tind ourselves on naked ledges
ON THE ROAD. 129
where the suu^s rays beat until the air seemed that o£
an oven. At such spots the plain below spread itself
out as a crumpled chart, whilst always above us^ domed
in the blue of a sapphire-stone, towered the goal of our
hopes, serene and relentless. But such places were not
many. More often a threatening cliff faced us, or an
endless slope closed in the view, only to give way to
another and yet another as we climbed their weary
length.
" Yet our speed was not trifling. We had passed a
train of white-clothed pilgrims in the morning soon
after leaving E,atnapoora. Since then we had seen no
man except one poor old })riest at the ruined resting-
house where we ate our mid-day meal. The shadow of
the forest allowed us to travel through the heat of the
day, and the thirst of discovery would have hurried me
on even had the guides protested. But they were both
sturdy, well-built men, and suffered from the heat far
less than I did. So we hardly paused vmtil, in the first
swift gloom of sunset, we emerged on the grassy lawn
of Diabetne, beneath the very face of the cone.
" We had to rest for the night in the ruined
Aiitbiilaui, as it is called ; and here, thoroughly tired
but sleepless, I lay for some hours and watched the
innumerable stars creep out and crown that sublime head
which rose at first into a fathomless blue that was
almost black, and then as the moon swept up, flashed
into unutterable radiance. Nothing, I am told, can
compare with the moonlight of Ceylon, and I can
J
180 DKAD man's U0( K.
well lii'liuvc it. 'rii;it iii'_;lit I icail clearly once ai^aiii liy
tlir lii^lil of its ravs my ralhcr's iiiaimscript, that no
point in it should L'scaju' my memory; then sank down
uj)on my rii^s and slept an uneasy sleep.
" In an hour or two, as it seemed, I was awakened
by Peter, \vh<» shook me and procIaiuK-d it time t
stirrin*^ il" we meant io see the sunrise I'rom the summit.
The moon was still resplendent as we started aeross the
three miles or * lea<»-ne of heaven ' that still lay between
us and till' actual cone. This Icao'iie traversed, we
|)Iuii,i4'ed down a ^uUy and erossed a stream wdiose waters
daneed in the silver moonlijjht until the eyes were
da/zled, then swept in a pearly shower down numberless
ledges of roek. After this the elimb iM'tian in <;ood
earnest. After a stretch of black forest, we issued on
a narrow traek that grew steei>er at every step. The
moon ])resently eea.se
;^uides lit torches, which llared and cast lono- shadows
on the rocky wall. By dej^rees the traek became a mere
watercourse, up which we could only scramble one by
one. So narrow was it that two men could scarcely
pass, yet so richly clothed in veopetation that our torches
scorched the overhanging- ferns. Peter led the way, and
I followed close at his heels, tor fear of loose stones ;
but every now and then a crash and a startled cry from
Paul behind us told us that we had sent a boulder flying
down into the dei)ths. Beyond this and the noise of
our footsteps there was no sound. We went but slowdy,
for the labour of the day before had nearly exhausted
THE ASCENT. 131
us^ but at length we scrambled out into the moonlight
again upon a rocky ledge hall:'- way up the mountain-
side.
" Here a strong breeze was blowing, that made our
heated bodies shiver until we were fain to go on.
Casting one look into the gulf below, deepened without
limit in the moonlight, Ave lit fresh torches and again
took to the path. Before we had scrambled, now we
climbed. We had left vegetation behind us, and were
face to face with the naked rock that forms the actual
Peak. At the foot of this Peter called a halt, and
pointed out the first set of chains. Without these, in
my weak state I could never have attempted the ascent.
Even as it was, my eye was dazed and my head swam
and reeled as I hung like a fly upon the dizzy side. But
clutching with desperation the chains riveted in the
living rock, I hauled myself up after Peter, and sank
down tlioroughly worn out upon the brink.
" It now wanted but little before daybreak would be
upon us. As I gathered myself up for a last effort, I re-
membered that amid the growth into which we were now
to plunge, stood the tree of seven trunks which was to
be my mark. But my chance was small of noting it by
the light of these flaring torches that distorted every
object, and wreathed each tree into a thousand fantastic
shapes. Plainly I must stake my hopes on the descent
next day ; at any rate, I would scale the summit before I
began my search.
" We had plunged into the thicket of rhododendrons,
J 3
l-'}2 DEAD man's rock.
whose crinisun tlowortj .sIiuwlmI (uMly ag'ainst the toivhes'
g-leam, and I was busy with these thoughts, when
suddenly my ankle gave way, and 1 fell heavily forward.
My two guides were beside me in an instant, and had
me on my feet again.
" ' All's good,' said Peter, ' but lueky it not happen
otherwheir. Only (ake (-aic fi>i- last i hain. IJut what
bad with him ? '
*' He might well ask ; fur there, I'ldl in Inint ol" my
eyes that strained and di)uble
cleft into seven— yes, seven — branehes that met again
and disappeared in a mass of black foliage. It was my
father's tree.
"So far then the i>archmenl had not lied. Here
was the tree, ' noticeable and not to be missed,' and
barely thirty-two paces from the spot where I was
standing lay the key to the treasure which I had
travelled this weary distance to seek. But the time for
search had not yet come. By the clear light of day and
alone I must explore the secret. It would keep for a
few hours longer.
"Dismissing my pre-occupied manner which had
caused no small astonishment to Peter and Paul, I Kxeil
the position of the tree as firmly as I could in my mind,
and gave the word to advance.
" We then continued in the same order as before,
whilst, to make matters sure, I counted our steps. I had
reached six hundred and twenty — though when I con-
sidered the darkness and the rough path I reflected that
ON THE SUMMIT. 133
this was but little help — when we arrived at the seeoud
set of chains. My foot was already beginning to give
me pain^ but under any circumstances this would have
been by far the worst of the ascent. All around us
stretched darkness void and horrible^ leading, for all
that we could see, down through veils of curling mist
into illimitable depths. In front the rock was almost
perpendicular. The fascination of gazing down was
wellnigh resistless, but Peter ahead continually cried
' Hurry ! ' and the voice of Paul behind repeated
' Hurr}' ! ' so that panting, gasping, and fit to faint,
with fino-ers clinoing- to the chain until the skin was
blistered, with every nerve throbbing and every muscle
strained to its utmost tension, I clambered, clambered,
until with one supreme effort I swung myself up to the
brink, staggered rather than ran up the last few feet of
rock, and as my guides bent and with outstretched
palms raised the cry ' Saadoo ! Saadoo ! ' I fell ex-
hausted before the very steps of Buddha's shrine.
''AVhen I recovered, I saw just above me the open
shrine perched on a tiny terrace and surrounded by low
walls of stone ; a yard or two from me the tiny hut in
which its guardians live ; and all around the expanse of
sky. Dawn was stealing on; already its pale light was
creeping up the east, and a bar or two of vivid fire
proclaimed the coming of the sun. The priests were
astir to receive the early pilgrims, and as Paul led me
to the edge of the parapet I could see far away below
the torches of the new-comers dotted in thin lines of fire
1->I DEAD man's I!0CK.
(liiwn llif mountain-side. Some pilL^rinis IkhI arrived
before us, and stood shivorini;; in their thin white
g-arments about the summit.
" Prosenlly tlie distant sound (A' measin-ed ehantinu^
« aine lluatin^' uji on the tran(|nil air, sank and died away,
and ruse ai^-ain more loudly. I'ahM' and pah-r <^rew the
heavens, nearer ami nearer swept the chanting-; and
nuw the first pilgrim swiinn' hinisell" uj> inl<» our view,
(juenehed his tureh and bowed in Imuia^-e. Otlu'rs
following" did the same, all adorin;;-, until the terrace
was crowded witli wnrshijtpers ga/ing eai^'er and bn'ath-
Icss into the far east, where brighter and brinhler the
crimson bars of morning were widening.
"Then with a leap Hashed up Ihe sun, the daz/ling
centre of a tlood of odlden light, (jodlike and re-
sj)lendent he rode up on wreaths of twirling mist, ami
with one stroke sent the shadows (juivering back to the
very corners of heaven. As the blazing orb toj)pcd the
horizon, every head bent in worship, every hand arose in
welcome, every voice broke out in trembling adoration,
* Saafloo ! Sandon f ' Even I, the only European there,
could not forbear from bowing my head and lifting up
my hands, so carried away was I with the aching fer-
vour of this crowd. There they stood and bent until
the whole- fiery ball was clear, then turning, paced to
the sound of chanting up the rough steps and laid their
offerings on the shrine. Thrice at each new offering
rang out a clattering gong, and the worshipper stepped
reverently back to make way for another; while all the
THE SHADOW OF THE PEAK. 135
time the newly-risen snn blazed aslant on their robes of
dazzling whiteness.
"As I stood watching this strange scene, Peter
plucked me by the sleeve and pointed westward. I
looked, and all the wonders I had yet viewed became
as nothing. For there, disregarded by the crowd, but
plain and manifest, rose another Peak, graven in shadow
upon the western sky. Bold and confronting, it soared
into heaven and, whilst I gazed in silent awe, came
striding nearer through the void air, until it seemed to
sweep down upon me — and was gone ! For many a day
had the shadow of this mighty cone lain upon my soul ;
here, on the very summit, that shadow took visible form
and shape, then paled into the clear blue. Has its
invisible horror left me now at last ? I doubt it.
But by this time the sun was high, and the last
pilgrim with a lingering cry of ' Sctadvo ! ' was leaving
the summit. So, although my ankle was now 1)0-
ginning to give me exquisite pain, I gave the order to
return. Before loaving-^ however, I looked for a moment
at the sacred footprint, to my mind the least of the
wonders of the Peak, and resembling no foot that ever
I saw. We had gone but a few steps when I plainly
guessed from the state of my ankle that our descent
would be full of danger, but the guides assured me of
their carefulness ; so once more we attacked the chains.
" How we got down I shall never fully know ; but
at last and after infinite pain we stood at the foot of
the cliff and entered the forest of rhododendrons. And
I'^t! T)E.M» .man's I!0( K.
how, to tlio wild aslniiisliiiit'iil of my o-uidcs wlio
plainly thoiiolii ino mad, I \ku\o llicm leave me and
proceeil ahead, vemaiiiin<^ within call. Thry were full
of protestations and dismay, but I was lirm. Trusty
thoy miyht he, hut it was well in this matter to dis-
trust eviM'ythini;" and evervhody. Finally, llierefure,
they obeyed, and I sat watching- until their white-elad
forms disappeared in the thicket.
" As soon as I judjj^ed them to have ^-one a sufficient
distance, I arose and lolldwi-d, eaulionsly eountini;' my
footsteps. Hut this was needless; my father had de-
scribed the tree as ' noticeable and not to be missed,'
nor was he wroni;-. Barely had I counted live hundred
]iaces when it rose into view, uneonl li and nionstmus.
All aronnd it spread the
rhododendrons; but this strange trc(» was at onee
uidike any of its fellows and of a kind alloo-ether
unknown t'l me. Its roots were jiaitiy bare, and
writhed in fantastic coils across the track. Above these
rose and spread its seven trunks matted with creepers,
and then united about four feet below the jioint wdiere
tile bi'anches beo-an. Its foliao-o was of a dark, »^lossy
^■reen, ])articularly dense, and its heijTht, as 1 should
judg-e, some sixty feet.
"Takiug' out my com]»ass, I started from the left-
hand side of the narrow track, and at a rig^ht ang'le to
it. The undergrowth gave me much trouble, and once
I had to make a circuit round a huge rhododendron ;
but I fought my way through, and after going, as I
THE SEARCH FOR THE SECRET. 137
reckoned, thirty-two paces, pulled up full in front of —
another rhododendron.
''There must be some mistake. My father had
spoken of a ' stone shaped like a maii^s head,' but said
nothing of a rhododendron tree, and indeed this parti-
cular tree was in nowise different from its companions.
I looked around ; took a few steps to the right, then to
the left j went round the tree ; walked back a few
paces ; returned to the tree to see if it concealed an}^-
thing; then sought the track to begin my measurement
afresh.
'' I was just starting again in a xevy discomposed
mood, when a thriught struck me. I had been behaving
like a fool. The parchment said 'at a right angle to
the left-hand edge of the track.' I had started from my
left hand, but I was descending the mountain, whereas
the directions of course supposed the explorer to be
ascending. Almost ready to laugh at my stupidity, I
tried again.
" Facing round, I got the needle at an angle of
ninety degrees, and once more began counting. My
heart was beginning to beat quickly by this time, and I
felt myself trembling with excitement. The course was
now more easily followed. True, the growth was as
thick as ever, but no rhododendrons blocked my pas-
sage. Beating down the creepers that swung across my
face, twined around my legs, and caught at my cap, I
measured thirty-two paces as nearly as I could, and then