The Snake's Pass
Copyright© 2025 by Bram Stoker
Chapter 18: The Fulfilment
When breakfast was finished, Dick proposed that we should go now and look in the full daylight at the effect of the shifting of the bog. I suggested to Norah that perhaps she had better not come as the sight might harrow her feelings, and, besides, that she would want some rest and sleep after her long night of terror and effort. She point blank refused to stay behind, and accordingly we all set out, having now had our clothes dried and changed, leaving only Miss Joyce to take care of the house.
The morning was beautiful and fresh after the storm. The deluge of rain had washed everything so clean that already the ground was beginning to dry, and as the morning sun shone hotly there was in the air that murmurous hum that follows rain when the air is still. And the air was now still—the storm seemed to have spent itself, and away to the West there was no sign of its track, except that the great Atlantic rollers were heavier and the surf on the rocks rose higher than usual.
We took our way first down the hill, and then westward to the Shleenanaher, for we intended, under Dick’s advice, to follow, if possible, up to its source the ravine made by the bog. When we got to the entrance of the Pass we were struck with the vast height to which the bog had risen when its mass first struck the portals. A hundred feet overhead there was the great brown mark, and on the sides of the Pass the same mark was visible, declining quickly as it got seaward and the Pass widened, showing the track of its passage to the sea.
We climbed the rocks and looked over. Norah clung close to me, and my arm went round her and held her tight as we peered over and saw where the great waves of the Atlantic struck the rocks three hundred feet below us, and were for a quarter of a mile away still tinged with the brown slime of the bog.
We then crossed over the ravine, for the rocky bottom was here laid bare, and so we had no reason to fear waterholes or pitfalls. A small stream still ran down the ravine and, shallowing out over the shelf of rock, spread all across the bottom of the Pass, and fell into the sea—something like a miniature of the Staubach Fall, as the water whitened in the falling.
We then passed up on the west side of the ravine, and saw that the stream which ran down the centre was perpetual—a live stream, and not merely the drainage of the ground where the bog had saturated the earth. As we passed up the hill we saw where the side of the slope had been torn bodily away, and the great chasm where once the house had been which Murdock took from Joyce, and so met his doom. Here there was a great pool of water—and indeed all throughout the ravine were places where the stream broadened into deep pools, and again into shallow pools where it ran over the solid bed of rock. As we passed up, Dick hazarded an explanation or a theory:—
“Do you know it seems to me that this ravine or valley was once before just as it is now. The stream ran down it and out at the Shleenanaher just as it does now. Then by some landslips, or a series of them, or by a falling tree, the passage became blocked, and the hollow became a lake, and its edges grew rank with boggy growth; and then, from one cause and another—the falling in of the sides, or the rush of rain storms carrying down the detritus of the mountain, and perpetually washing down particles of clay from the higher levels—the lake became choked up; and then the lighter matter floated to the top, and by time and vegetable growth became combined. And so the whole mass grew cohesive and floated on the water and slime below. This may have occurred more than once. Nay, moreover, sections of the bog may have become segregated or separated by some similarity of condition affecting its parts, or by some formation of the ground, as by the valley narrowing in parts between walls of rock so that the passage could be easily choked. And so, solid earth formed to be again softened and demoralized by the later mingling with the less solid mass above it. It is possible, if not probable, that more than once, in the countless ages that have passed, this ravine has been as we see it—and again as it was but a few hours ago!”
No one had anything to urge against this theory, and we all proceeded on our way.
When we came to the place where Norah had rescued me, we examined the spot most carefully, and again went over the scene and the exploit. It was almost impossible to realize that this great rock, towering straight up from the bottom of the ravine, had, at the fatal hour, seemed only like a tussock rising from the bog. When I had climbed to the top I took my knife and cut a cross on the rock, where my brave girl’s feet had rested, to mark the spot.
Then we went on again. Higher up the hill we came to a place, where, on each side a rocky promontory, with straight deep walls, jutted into the ravine, making a sort of narrow gateway or gorge in the valley. Dick pointed it out:—
“See! here is one of the very things I spoke of, that made the bog into sections or chambers, or tanks, or whatever we should call them. More than that, here is an instance of the very thing I hinted at before—that the peculiar formation of the Snake’s Pass runs right through the hill! If this be so!—but we shall see later on.”
On the other side was, we agreed, the place where old Moynahan had said the Frenchmen had last been seen. Dick and I were both curious about the matter, and we agreed to cross the ravine and make certain, for, if it were the spot, Dick’s mark of the stones in the Y shape would be a proof. Joyce and Norah both refused to let us go alone, so we all went up a little further, where the sides of the rock sloped on each side, and where we could pass safely, as the bed was rock and quite smooth with the stream flowing over it in a thin sheet.
When we got to the bottom, Joyce, who was looking round, said suddenly:—
“What is that like a square block behind the high rock on the other side?” He went over to it, and an instant after, gave a great cry and turned and beckoned to us. We all ran over—and there before us, in a crescent-shaped nook, at the base of the lofty rock, lay a wooden chest. The top was intact, but one of the lower corners was broken, as though with a fall; and from the broken aperture had fallen out a number of coins, which we soon found to be of gold.
On the top of the chest we could make out the letters R. F. in some metal, discoloured and corroded with a century of slime, and on its ends were great metal handles—to each of which something white was attached. We stooped to look at them, and then Norah, with a low cry, turned to me, and laid her head on my breast, as though to shut out some horrid sight. Then we investigated the mass that lay there.
At each end of the chest lay a skeleton—the fleshless fingers grasping the metal handle. We recognized the whole story at a glance, and our hats came off.
“Poor fellows!” said Dick, “they did their duty nobly. They guarded their treasure to the last.” Then he went on. “See! they evidently stepped into the bog, straight off the rock, and were borne down at once, holding tight to the handles of the chest they carried—or stay”—and he stooped lower and caught hold of something:—
“See how the bog can preserve! this leather strap attached to the handles of the chest each had round his shoulder, and so, willy nilly, they were dragged to their doom. Never mind! they were brave fellows all the same, and faithful ones—they never let go the handles—look! their dead hands clasp them still. France should be proud of such sons! It would make a noble coat of arms, this treasure chest sent by freemen to aid others—and with two such supporters!”
We looked at the chest and the skeletons for a while, and then Dick said:—
“Joyce, this is on your land—for it is yours till to-morrow—and you may as well keep it—possession is nine points of the law—and if we take the gold out, the government can only try to claim it. But if they take it, we may ask in vain!” Joyce answered:—
“Take it I will, an’ gladly; but not for meself. The money was sent for Ireland’s good—to help them that wanted help, an’ plase God! I’ll see it doesn’t go asthray now!”
Dick’s argument was a sensible one, and straightway we wrenched the top off the chest, and began to remove the gold; but we never stirred the chest or took away those skeleton hands from the handles which they grasped.
It took us all, carrying a good load each, to bring the money to Joyce’s cottage. We locked it in a great oak chest, and warned Miss Joyce not to say a word about it. I told Miss Joyce that if Andy came for me he was to be sent on to us, explaining that we were going back to the top of the new ravine.
We followed it up further, till we reached a point much higher up on the hill, and at last came to the cleft in the rock whence the stream issued. The floor here was rocky, and it being so, we did not hesitate to descend, and even to enter the chine. As we did so, Dick turned to me:—
“Well! it seems to me that the mountain is giving up its secrets to-day. We have found the Frenchmen’s treasure, and now we may expect, I suppose, to find the lost crown! By George! though, it is strange! they said the Snake became the Shifting Bog, and that it went out, by the Shleenanaher!—as we saw the bog did.”
When we got well into the chine, we began to look about us curiously. There was something odd—something which we did not expect. Dick was the most prying, and certainly the most excited of us all. He touched some of the rock, and then almost shouted:—
“Hurrah! this a day of discoveries.—Hurrah! hurrah!”
“Now, Dick, what is it?” I asked—myself in a tumult, for his enthusiasm, although we did not know the cause, excited as all.
“Why! man, don’t you see! this is what we have wanted all along.”
“What is? Speak out, man dear! We are all in ignorance!” Dick laid his hand impressively on the rock:—
“Limestone! There is a streak of it here, right through the mountain—and, moreover, look! look!—this is not all nature’s work—these rocks have been cut in places by the hands of men!” We all got very excited, and hurried up the chine; but the rocks now joined over our heads, and all was dark beyond, and the chine became a cave.
“Has anyone a match—we must have a light of some kind here,” said Joyce.
“There is the lantern in the house. I shall run for it. Don’t stir until I get back,” I cried; and I ran out and climbed the side of the ravine, and got to Joyce’s house as soon as I could. My haste and impetuosity frightened Miss Joyce, who called in terror:—
“Is there anything wrong—not an accident I hope?”
“No! no! we only want to examine a rock, and the place is dark. Give us the lantern quick, and some matches.”
“Aisy! aisy, alanna!” she said. “The rock won’t run away!”
I took the lantern and matches and ran back. When we had lit the lantern, Norah suggested that we should be very careful, as there might be foul air about. Dick laughed at the idea.
“No foul air here, Norah; it was full of water a few hours ago,” and taking the lantern, he went into the narrow opening. We all followed, Norah clinging tightly to me. The cave widened as we entered, and we stood in a moderate sized cavern, partly natural and partly hollowed out by rough tools. Here and there, were inscriptions in strange character, formed by straight vertical lines something like the old telegraph signs, but placed differently.
“Ogham!-one of the oldest and least known of writings,” said Dick, when the light fell on them as he raised the lantern.”
At the far end of the cave was a sort of slab or bracket, formed of a part of the rock carven out. Norah went towards it, and called us to her with a loud cry. We all rushed over, and Dick threw the light of the lantern on her; and then exclamations of wonder burst from us also.
In her hand she held an ancient crown of strange form. It was composed of three pieces of flat gold joined all along one edge, like angle iron, and twisted delicately. The gold was wider and the curves bolder in the centre, from which they were fined away to the ends and then curved into a sort of hook. In the centre was set a great stone, that shone with the yellow light of a topaz, but with a fire all its own!
Dick was the first to regain his composure and, as usual, to speak:—
“The Lost Crown of Gold!—the crown that gave the hill its name, and was the genesis of the story of St. Patrick and the King of the Snakes! Moreover, see, there is a scientific basis for the legend. Before this stream cut its way out through the limestone, and made this cavern, the waters were forced upwards to the lake at the top of the hill, and so kept it supplied; but when its channel was cut here—or a way opened for it by some convulsion of nature, or the rending asunder of these rocks—the lake fell away.”
He stopped, and I went on:—
“And so, ladies and gentlemen, the legend is true, that the Lost Crown would be discovered when the water of the lake was found again.”
“Begor! that’s thrue, anyhow!” said the voice of Andy in the entrance. “Well, yer ‘an’r, iv all the sthrange things what iver happened, this is the most sthrangest! Fairies isn’t in it this time, at all, at all!”
I told Andy something of what had happened, including the terrible deaths of Murdock and Moynahan, and sent him off to tell the head constable of police, and any one else he might see. I told him also of the two skeletons found beside the chest.
Andy was off like a rocket. Such news as he had to tell would not come twice in a man’s lifetime, and would make him famous through all the country-side. When he was gone, we decided that we had seen all that was worth while, and agreed to go back to the house, where we might be on hand to answer all queries regarding the terrible occurrences of the night. When we got outside the cave, and had ascended the ravine, I noticed that the crown in Norah’s hands had now none of the yellow glare of the jewel, and feared the latter had been lost. I said to her:—
“Norah, dear! have you dropped the jewel from the crown?”
She held it up, startled, to see; and then we all wondered again—for the jewel was still there, but it had lost its yellow colour, and shone with a white light, something like the lustre of a pearl seen in the midst of the flash of diamonds. It looked like some kind of uncut crystal, but none of us had ever seen anything like it.
We had hardly got back to the house when the result of Andy’s mission began to be manifested. Every soul in the country-side seemed to come pouring in to see the strange sights at Knockcalltecrore. There was a perfect babel of sounds; and every possible and impossible story, and theory, and conjecture was ventilated at the top of the voice of every one, male and female.
The head constable was one of the first to arrive. He came into the cottage, and we gave him all the required details of Murdock’s and Moynahan’s death, which he duly wrote down, and then went off with Dick to go over the ground.