Our Adventures on the Cave Hill
The Cave Hill, as every urchin from ten years old and
upwards knows, contains caverns to the amount of three, viz:- the first or
lowest; the second, or intermediate; and the third, or highest.
This belief up to the present time has existed, and no one
doubts for a moment the theory that there are but three caves in this venerable
hill. We would have said fact instead of theory but that truth is now our
guide, and we must obey her mandates. We are rather nervous about demolishing
at a single blow this time-honoured belief, and our hesitation can be judged
from the fact that it is now five years since we made the discovery, and,
during that time we have remained silent upon the subject; but, as progress is
the order of the day, we have reluctantly been obliged to make known the facts
of our discovery and cause a right belief to be held on the subject. The result
of our adventure then has been to inform the world that there are five
caves instead of three in the Cave Hill, and that the fourth and fifth
are by far the largest of all. How we came to know this is as follows:-
On the evening of the 7th May, 1867, we – that is
my companion and myself, whose names are for the present invisible, but should the
curious reader wish to know them, he will find them on a document deposited in
the mouth of the fourth cave – proceeded to “the Hill of Caves” with the
invincible determination of visiting “the Third Cave”, a cavern consecrated
with legends of piratical inmates, and stories of certain soldiers and sweeps,
whose profession of daring and sure-footedness caused them to undertake the
ascent; but, as the story goes, they always forfeited their life for their
presumption. To this mysterious cavern, therefore, we bent our steps. First in
order comes the First Cave, which almost every person who ever went to the Hill
has been in. Stories are told about the fetes held here on the Easter Mondays
of the past, when the boys and girls made its stony rafters ring with their
shouts. Apple women, and candy-men have often conveyed their stock in trade to
this elevation, but as people seldom go there now for sweet-meats, the shop,
commercially speaking, is closed. This cave has been formed doubtless from the
disintegration of the tertiary trap rock, which forms the summit of the hill,
lying immediately over the chalk, and is about 25ft in diameter. The access to
it is such that any person can go inside without the slightest difficulty.
The 2second cave” exists only in name, as far as its
properties of a cavern are concerned, but a strong imagination may convert a
recess in the rocks, about 30 ft above the “first”, to a magnitude sufficient
to merit this title, if so disposed. The passage to this intermediate cave is
more difficult than that of the first, being up and over the top of an
outcropping ledge of rock, and on arriving at it the climber sees an
indentation of about 3 feet in width and 4 feet in height, which is all that
represents the second. There is also close at hand another recess smaller than
the first, which is filled with stagnant water, and the imaginary uniting of
these two probably constitute what is meant by the second cave. The ascent to
it presents a little difficulty to the timid, but an adventurous youth will
easily surmount it.
The “third cave”, however, is the great feat of daring in
the way of climbing, and a feat which but few accomplish. Not that nobody has
ever yet set foot in it, for we believe not less than a dozen of people have
been in it; but the position of the cave is such that even if a young fellow is
courageous enough to contemplate the ascent, he is generally dismayed at the
stories he has heard of certain sweeps who were let down from the top of the
hill by ropes, but when they got into the cave they were never heard of again.
According to the legend, an evil spirit haunts the spot, and woe to the mortal
who may fall into his clutches, for he is generally condemned to walk night and
day along a subterraneous passage connecting the Cave Hill with Carrickfergus,
and bewail his fate by scraping a mournful melody upon a ghostly fiddle. But,
with regard to our ascent. On the aforesaid evening my companion and myself
were toiling up the “sheep path”, which leads from the Antrim Road to the top of
the hill. We passed the first cave and proceeded along the same path until we
had attained an elevation nearly equal to that of the third cave itself. We
here struck off the path at a favourable place, and began to scale the rocks in
an upward-horizontal direction, moving round the face of the cliff in the
direction of the cave. We were aided in our endeavours by there being at the
commencement of our climbing proper a kind of natural terrace, but, which was
as steep as a house top. Hugging the rocks as it were, we proceeded about ten
yards, which is the entire length of this terrace, until we were left
comparatively speaking without anything to hold on by, and this at an elevation
of about 200 feet. We were beginning to become a little discouraged at the prospect,
but my companion, who had before made the ascent with an associate of his, and
who now took the lead, began to pull up courage in such a manner that I caught
the infection, and we renewed the enterprise. What made our progress still more
difficult was the rotten nature of the rock, which yearly succumbs to
atmospheric agency, and, by means of frost and rain, crumbles it away. Our only
means of support were the little out-jutting irregularities of rock and the
tufts of grass which grew upon the sides of the cliff; these latter we grasped
with our hands, and carefully planted our feet upon the firmest of the former,
for often when we placed a foot upon what seemed to be stone of the first
quality, it would vanish down the sides of the rocks in a shower of impalpable
dust. This circumstance naturally made our position very precarious, so that
the utmost vigilance was required for our safety, and an examination of the
place was made where we intended to place our footsteps. A singular fact
connected with our elevation was that neither of us felt in any way dizzy or
light-headed, which, had such occurred, might, perhaps, have proved our ruin,
but, perhaps, this is attributable to an occurrence which is observable in
situations of great magnitude. It has been observed that a stranger on viewing
the Coliseum at Rome is not so overwhelmed or extraordinarily struck with the
sight as might be expected, and this is attributable to one of the very
qualities of greatness – viz., that the man himself is elevated by the genius
of the spot, and for the time is made greater than he really is, so that in
applying this idea to our situation we may be said to have been elevated
mentally by the genius of the place, and as despair lends a supernatural vigour
to the frame, so our position bestowed a heroism which could not be attainable
in places or situations of lesser magnitude, and thus overwhelmed the inferior
feeling of dizzy cowardice.
When we had proceeded about half way to the cave we came to
a perpendicular gully in the rocks which appeared to have been formed by the
falling of debris so as to constitute a bed for what might be termed a
river of rocks. It was about three feet in width, but at our elevation it
seemed a couple of yards, for great height lends great breadth to such
obstacles. My companion, however, bounded across it at once, as he leaped it
before, but not so I. Hesitating whether to go further or not, I held on to the
rocks, where I was in a kind of cold perspiration, produced by the thought that
my leap might be down the gully rather than over it. My companion, however,
cheered me up by assuring me it was “nothing”, that “nothing” was easier than
to jump across that, which had the effect of inspiring me to proceed; and,
moreover, he said he’d catch hold of me, to prevent a fall down the precipice,
when I landed on his side. I suggested the propriety of going back for a piece
of stick to bridge the chasm, but he assured me it would be of no use; that all
I had to do was jump, and he would do the rest. There was a space of about a
square yard of shelving rock upon which he rested, and for this I took aim,
made a wild spring, and landed on the cliff beside him. My foot slipped, but he
had already caught my hand, and I was safe. We rested a little after this adventure
and gazed around. The only spectator to our movements was a little fellow, who
was seated in the valley below, and scarcely distinguishable from the black
boulders which lay around. We shouted to him, and he doubtless answered us, but
the only sound we heard was a far-off faint echo, such as might be heard by a
shipwrecked sailor, in some lonely island, when he shouted to a passing sail.
We arose and pursued our hazardous journey. At each step our
progress became more difficult, and sometimes outjutting ridges of rock seemed
to say “This far and no further.” But the defiant will overcome all barriers,
and where no footmarks existed we swung round the ledge to gain a footing on
the other side. Thus we passed on in silence until my companion and guide cried
out “We’re at the cave!” I looked to where he was but could see nothing. “Where
is it?” said I. “Here” he said, “behind this rock.” The rock he referred to was
another ledge larger than any we had yet come to, and which protruded from the
face of the hill like a petrified sentinel, guarding the entrance within. “How
are we to manage this?” I said; for its sides appeared as smooth as a
tombstone, “It’s alright” said he, “follow me.” He then caught hold of a niche
in the ledge a little above his head, and, swinging round the face, he
disappeared round the other side. I did the same and dropped on the floor of
the third cave. What a rush of thoughts came to me as I stood and surveyed the
scene. “Here we are at last,” said I, “in the real third cave. What a
consummation to our enterprise! Here we stand in the redoubtable cavern
consecrated to the ghosts of those courageous but unfortunate adventurers who,
when they entered, never returned to tell the tale of their enterprise.” In
thinking of the fate of these persons the reality of our situation struck us
more forcibly, and the thoughts of having to undergo such risk as we
experienced in coming before we could return to terra firma produced a feeling akin to despair. Starvation
on the one hand or terrible risk on the other. However, as we didn’t come to
meditate, we set about exploring the cave and seeing if any discoveries could
be made. The floor of the cave where we stood was covered with a pile of debris,
which was collected by fragments of rock striking the outward edge of the
floor, which extended a little distance from the perpendicular of the cliff,
thus receiving the shattered portions of the falling pieces. The cave itself
extends inwards for about six feet, and is about fifteen feet in height, by eight
in breadth; but, notwithstanding its small depth, the sides so fold to the
front that a deep shadow is produced which gives an appearance of great extent
from below.
In the roof of the third cave, opening to the outside, is
the entrance to what we called “the fourth cave”. It being too high for anyone
to enter without assistance, my companion stood while I climbed his shoulders,
and, by this means got inside. I then drew him up by the hand, and, after we
had remained for some time with closed eyes to accustom ourselves to the
darkness of the cave, we began to examine it. It is the shape of a hemisphere,
being perfectly circular in area, and globular overhead like the snowhut of the
Greenlander or the kraal of the Hottentot. The diameter is about thirty feet,
and the height about eight at the highest point. The usual stalactite
appendages of caves in general are suspended from the roof, while stalagmites
adorn the floor. It seemed to be a rather damp climate to live in, for it
appears to be raining incessantly from water percolating through the rocks,
which charged with percolate of lime, is the cause of the festooning
beforementioned. Mosses and ferns are plentiful enough, the former encrusting
the walls and the latter all growing in one direction on the floor – that is,
towards the mouth of the cave, which, not directly communicating with the light
outside, receives but a small share of the reflected kind from the sides of the
third cave. It was pitiful to behold these little prisoners stretching out
their leaves for the life-giving light. Some were nearly white from their long
imprisonment, others were of a sickly hue, and but a few were green. Not a
single one was to be seen growing in any other direction but from that whence
came the light, which, feeble though it was, they gladly accepted. On the wall
opposite to the mouth of the cave, where the moss grew thickest, we found
traces of a former visitor to this cave. It was a name traced an inch deep in
letters about a foot in size, and, as far as the feeble light permitted, we
discovered it to be “Kirkpatrick.” It may have been “Kilpatrick,” but it was
either of these two names. We wrote our names on a piece of paper bearing a
particular stamp, and rolling the paper around a bar of steel we carried with
us to give it gravitation, we deposited it in a niche in the mouth of the cave,
secure from rain inside and the jackdaws who infest the exterior. We then
gathered a few plants and stones as memorials, and left a cave which is so
smoothly excavated and of so accurate a form, that one might almost believe it
to have been the production of art. As I have stated, we called this the “fourth
cave.”
Having again landed on the floor of the third cave, my
companion directed my attention to a hole or passage on the right hand while
looking out of the cave. We could see in dim perspective the outlines of
another cavern of a much larger extent than any of the others, which seemed to
be faintly lighted up through some fissure in the rocks, and which appeared to
be larger than the others. The floor of this cave was about ten feet below that
of the third cave, so that we had to descend that distance when entering. On
examining the way of descent, we discovered that a pile of debris had
been amassed about four feet in height at the entrance, so that we had to slide
down six feet before we reached it, which was easily done, and from thence to
the floor of the cave. On first looking round we saw that the fissure through
which the cavern was lighted was a hole of two feet in diameter, sloping
upwards to the outside, which renders it invisible to anyone looking from
below. It is in shape an irregular parallelogram, about thirty feet in length
by nearly twenty in breadth, and about ten feet in height. It was perfectly
dry, which was probably owing to the compact nature of the roof, not admitting
any water. Its botany was nil, which the absence of water will no doubt
account for, or perhaps some other law affecting the distribution of plants.
The floor is covered with a heavy damp dust, which emits a peculiarly earthy
odour, and when kicked or otherwise disturbed, will not rise in a suffocating
cloud, but quietly falls back to sleep again. Who knows but that perhaps once
this dust was once moving about in the full vigor of manhood, composing the
vital organisms of a frame endowed with intelligence; and if, as our raised
beaches testify, the sea at no distant period swept the floors of these caves,
may not some wrecker of the seas have here concealed his spoils, or earlier
still, some antediluvian hero have found a home after his full manhood of five
hundred years have passed away. May not this dust be theirs; the fifth cave
their home, the Cave Hill their monument. If so, their dust is characteristic –
they are taking their rest.
The only other object of note in the fifth cave is a large
stone lying in the very middle of the floor. It appeared to have fallen from the
roof of the cave, which is irregular in some places, and is a convenient seat.
We searched the entire circuit of the walls of this cave, but could not
discover any other passage or outlet than the one serving as a window and the
other as a doorway, through which we entered. We then left the cavern, via the
pile of debris, and soon stood upon the floor of the third cave.
On reflecting on the nature of the fourth and fifth caves we
were struck with the contrast exhibited by each other. The way to the fourth is
about ten feet above the floor of the third, and the way to the fifth is the
same distance below the same point; the fourth is nearly completely dark, the
fifth is quite light; the fourth is spherical in shape, the fifth cubical; the
fourth is a circle in area, the fifth is a square; the fourth is completely wet,
the fifth is dry; the fourth is smooth in surface, the fifth is irregular; the
fourth contains water, the fifth contains dust; the fourth is rich in botany,
the fifth devoid of plants; the fourth has no window, the fifth has one; the
fourth has the stalactite growth, the fifth has none of these deposits; botany
is characteristic of the fourth and geology of the fifth, and, lastly, the
fourth contains records of visitors, but the fifth no such records. These considerations
show that a strong contrast is maintained between these two caves, being
dissimilar in every point. The fact itself is a great curiosity.
Now that the object of our visit was attained, we began to
consider the best way to get home again; and, as I have before stated, we were
not a little disconcerted at the prospect of repeating the hazard of our lives.
When a man takes a bathe in water, and after he has got on his clothes and
begins to feel the glow of warmth rush through his veins, it is one of the most
difficult things to persuade him to take off his clothes and immediately bathe
again, so it was with great lassitude of energy we contemplated the return
journey upon the perpendicular cliff. My companion, however, declared that he
would go by a different route than that by which he came, and that was along a
kind of natural terrace, or cliff, which was on a level with the third cave.
The reason why he did not come by this easy route was that when we arrived at
the cave we should have to descend about ten or twelve feet, and, as descending
a cliff is much more difficult than ascending, he preferred to come by the
route already taken. This statement was so plausible, and the new way being
unknown to me, I at once plucked up spirit, as did my companion, to proceed,
and the next moment found us making the ascent.
If our progress was difficult in the way coming the short
distance we had to climb was trebly so. My companion, who took the lead, was, after
tremendous exertions, soon upon the summit of the ledge before I had advanced
two feet. He was calling to me to hurry up when the rock upon which I stood
gave way and vanished with a roar, while I fell – not to the bottom of the
cliff, which would have been instantaneous death, it being about 250 feet to
the valley below from where I stood, but to my former position at the mouth of
the third cave. The effect produced by this slight slip upon both of us was tremendous.
I could tell from my companion’s tone of voice that he was as much shaken as
myself, who lay powerless against the stone with a cold sweat creeping over me.
I was reduced in an instant from all nerve, courage, and energy to a rapid,
feeble state, the very embodiment of impotency. My companion tried to rally me
again to make the effort, and he would catch me when I came within reach of his
arm, but it was no use, while the fright continued. All we could do was remain
as we were until the effect somehow died away, which it did in time, and I
again renewed the ascent. Carefully did I feel each stone before trusting
myself to them, as the entire surface of the rock was in a pulverised
condition, and after removing some of the more fragile prominences, I took
courage to climb. I had attained the same elevation as before, when, horror! I felt
the rock again giving way. I tried to shout as a feeling like an arrow stung me
to the heart, and, at the same instant, I felt myself seized by the hair “Up!
Up!” yelled a voice, and I immediately, instinctively, sprang upwards with
tremendous activity. When the fear occasioned by this relapse of accident had
subsided, I found myself on the ledge beside my companion, who was in as much
trepidation as myself. He it was who had seized me by the hair, having tossed
my hat down the precipice, and but for which timely aid I would most assuredly
have been dashed into fragments below. The ledge or terrace of rock upon which
we rested was nearly a yard in breadth, and extended with few interruptions to
the sheep path from whence we originally started, so that we ran rather than
walked along it. We cleared the gully which presented so much difficulty before
at a single bound, and reached the valley in safety. My hat had been picked up by the little
fellow – the solitary spectator of our contingency, and thus ended “Our
Adventure on the Cave Hill.”
If the reader can receive any information from such, however
small, we who made the undertaking will feel that our risk is amply repaid, and
that the pleasure of being victorious in the enterprise, added to such
considerations, will be an equivalent to any peril we have been subject to. If
such hazards were not made, there would be a speedy dissolution to all
progress, knowledge, advancement and civilization.
