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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 47. For Life |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. FOR LIFE. "What nonsense!" cried Gwyn, laughing. "Don't you be scared by trifles, Joe. There's nothing wrong, is there, Grip?" The dog threw up his head, gazed pleadingly at his master, and then made for the farther opening. "No, no, not that way," cried Joe. "Yes, sir, we'll try that way please; it works round by the wet drive, and the big pillared hall, as you called it." "But look here, Sam, are you serious?" said Joe; "or are you making this fuss to frighten us?" "You never knowed me try to do such a thing as that, sir," said the man, sternly. "P'raps I'm wrong, and I hope I am; but all the same I should be glad for us to get to the foot of the shaft again." "Why not go to where the men are at work?" suggested Gwyn; "they'd know." "We shall take them in our way, sir; and we won't lose any time please." "I should like to light up the place once more before we go." "No, no, sir. You can do that when you come again." "Very well," said Gwyn, who did not feel in the least alarmed, but who could see the great drops standing on the mining captain's face. "Lead on, then. Where's Grip?" The dog was gone. "Here! Hi! Grip! Grip!" cried Gwyn. There was a faint bark from a distance, and Gwyn called again, but there was no further response. "He knows it's wrong, sir," said Hardock, solemnly, "so let's hurry after him." "Go on, then," said Joe; and Gwyn reluctantly followed them through the grotto, and then along a natural crack in the rock, which was painful for walking, being all on a slope. But this soon came to an end, and they found themselves in another grotto, but with a low-arched roof and wanting in the crystallisations of the first. "You have been all along here, Sam?" said Gwyn, suddenly. For answer Hardock took a few steps forward, and held up his lanthorn to display a roughly-brushed white arrow on the wall pointing forward. "You can always tell where we've been now, sir," said the man. "This bends in and out for nearly a quarter of a mile; now it's caverns, now it's cracks, and then we come again upon old workings which lead off by what I call one of the mine endings. After that we get to the big hall, and that low wet gallery; I know my way right through now." "But it's all a scare," said Gwyn, banteringly. "I hope so, sir, but I feel unked like, and as if something's very wrong." "Think of old Grip playing the sneak," said Joe, as they finally cleared the grotto-like cracks, and came upon flooring better for walking. "Nay, sir, he's no sneak. He's only gone to see what's the matter." "Without a light?" cried Gwyn. "He wants no light, sir. His eyes are not like ours. Would you mind walking a little faster?" "No; lead on, and we'll keep up. But how long will it take us to get to the foot of the shaft?" "Two hours, sir." "So long as that?" "Every minute of it, sir--if we get there at all," said the man to himself. And now they walked on at a good steady rate, only pausing once to trim their lights, and at last came to a turn familiar to both the lads, for it was the beginning of the passage where they had had the scare from having to pass through water, but at the end farthest from that which they had come by in the early part of the day. "Won't go through here, Sam?" said Gwyn. "Much the nighest, sir; but we don't want to be soaked. Would you mind going a little way down here?" "Not I," said Gwyn; and the man led on, Joe following without a word. "Don't look like that, Jolly," whispered Gwyn. "I suppose everyone gets scared at some time in a place like this. It's Sam's turn now. Hallo!" "Can't go any farther, sir," said Hardock, huskily. "The water's right up to here, and farther on it must reach the roof." Gwyn needed no telling, for the reflection of their lights was glancing from the floor, and he knew perfectly well that no water ought to be there. A chill ran through him--a sensation such as he would have experienced had he suddenly plunged neck deep in the icy water, and he turned a look full of agony at Joe, who caught at his arm. "The sea has broken in--the sea has broken in!" he cried; and quick as lightning Gwyn bent down, scooped up some of the black-looking water, and held it to his lips. It was unmistakably brackish. "It can't have broke in, my lads--it can't," cried Hardock. "Come on, and let's go round by the pillar place and get to the men as quick as we can. There must be some spring burst out; but they'll set the pumps at work as soon as they know, and soon pull it down again. Come on." With their hearts beating heavily from excitement, the two lads followed the captain as he hurried back along the gallery to the spot where they had turned down; and then, as fast as they could go, they made for the pillared hall, expecting to find some of the men close by; but when they reached it, there being no sign of water, there was not a soul visible. There was proof, though, that it was not long since there were men there, for the ends of two candles were still burning where they had been stuck against the wall; tools were lying here and there, and a couple of half-filled skeps were standing on the low four-wheeled trucks waiting to be run along the little tramway to the shaft. No one said so, but each saw for certain that there must have been a sudden alarm, and the men had fled. "Come on," said Hardock, hoarsely; but his heart was sinking, and Gwyn knew that there was a gradual descent toward the bottom of the shaft. But they walked rapidly on for fully half-an-hour before they came to the first trace of water, and it was startling when they did. The gallery they were in entered the next--a lower one--at right-angles; and as they reached that end dry-footed, their lights gleamed from the face of running water which was gliding rapidly by in a regular stream of a few inches deep. It was Joe who stooped quickly down now to scoop up some of the water and taste it, which he did in silence. "Salt?" cried Gwyn, sharply. There was no reply, and the lad followed his companion's example and tasted the water. "Salt, sir?" said Hardock. "As the sea," said Gwyn, with a groan. "Hah! good dog then. Here, here, here! Grip, Grip, Grip!" For there had been a faint barking in the distance, but the noise ceased. "Can we go round any way?" said Gwyn. "No, sir; we must face it," said Hardock; "and as quick as we can, for it gets lower and lower, and the water sets this way fast, so it must be rising. Ready, sir?" "Yes." "Then come on." Hardock stepped down into the rapid stream, which was ankle-deep, the others followed, and they splashed rapidly along, to hear the barking again directly; and soon after Grip, who must have been swimming, came bounding and splashing along, barking joyously to meet them again, and barking more loudly as he found that his master was making for the way from which he had come. "Can't help it, old fellow. When it gets too bad for you, I must carry you," muttered Gwyn, as they hurried along; their progress gradually becoming more painful, for the water soon became knee-deep, and the stream harder to stem. But they toiled on till it was up to their waists, and so swift that it began to threaten to sweep them away; so, after a few minutes' progression in this way, with the water growing yet deeper, Hardock stopped at a corner round which the water came with a rush. "It's downhill here, gen'lemen, all the way to the shaft, and even if we could face it, the water must be five-foot deep in another ten minutes, and round the next turn it'll be six, and beyond that the passage must be full." "Then we must swim to the foot of the shaft," said Gwyn, excitedly. "A shoal of seals couldn't do it, sir," said the man, gruffly. "Come back, sir!" he roared, for, as if to prove his words, the dog made a sudden dash, freed himself from Gwyn's grasp, and plunged forward to swim, but was swept back directly, and would have been borne right away if Gwyn had not snatched at his thick coat as he passed, and held him. "But we must make for the shaft," cried Joe, passionately. "We can't sir! It's suicide! We couldn't swim, and just a bit farther on, I tell you, the place must be full to the roof. Why, there must be eight or ten foot o' water in the shaft." "Then are we lost?" cried Joe. "A fellow's never lost as long as he can make a fight for it," said Gwyn, sharply. "Now, then, Sam, what's to be done--go back?" "Yes, sir, fast as we can, and make for the highest part of the mine." "Where is that?" "The water will show us," said Hardock. "I pray it may only be a bit of an underground pool burst to flood us; and they'll pump and master it before it does us any harm." "No, no," groaned Joe; "we've heard it beating overhead before, and the sea has burst in. We're lost--we're lost!" "Then if the sea has bursted in," cried Hardock, fiercely, "it's that fellow Tom Dinass's doing. He's a spite against us all, and it's to flood and ruin the mine." "Don't be unreasonable, Sam," began Gwyn, but he stopped short, for, like a flash, came the recollection of their seeing the man go down towards the point at low-water, where they had heard him hammering in the dark. Did that mean anything? Was it a preparation for blowing in the rock over one of the passages that ran beneath the sea? It seemed to be impossible as he thought it, but there was the fact of the flood rising and driving them onward, the waters pressing behind them as they waded on, but getting shallower very slowly, till, by degrees, they were wading knee-deep and after a time Grip could be set down. But that the waters were rising fast they had ample proof, for whenever they stopped, the stream was rushing by them onward, as if hastening to fill up every gallery in the mine. "The water will show us the highest part," Hardock had said; and they went on and on deeper and farther into the recesses of the place, but with the swift stream seeming to chase them, refusing to be left behind, but ever writhing about and leaping at their legs as if to drag them down. Grip splashed along beside or in front, whenever they were in a shallow enough part, and swam when he could not find bottom; but at last he began to show signs of weariness by getting close up to his master, and whining. "Catch hold of my lanthorn, Joe," cried Gwyn. "What are you going to do?" "What I should do for you if you felt that you could go no farther; what you would do for me. We've brought him down here to be safe from Tom Dinass, and thrown him into the danger we wanted to avoid. Here, come on, Grip, old chap." To the surprise of his companions, Gwyn knelt down in the water, turning his back to the dog and bending as low as he could, when the intelligent beast, perhaps from memories of old games they had had together, swam close up and began to scramble up on his master's shoulders. Then Gwyn caught at the dog's fore-legs, dragged them over, and rose to his feet, carrying the dog pick-a-pack fashion, Grip settling down quietly enough and straining his muzzle over as far as he could reach. Hardock said nothing, but tramped on again, taking the lead with one lanthorn, Joe bringing up the rear with the others, having one in each hand, while the light was reflected brightly from the surface of the water. At first the mining captain seemed to be working with a purpose in view; but, after being compelled to turn back times out of number through finding the water deepening in the different passages he followed, he grew bewildered, and at last came to a standstill knee-deep in a part that was wider than ordinary. "I think this part will do," he said, looking helplessly from one to the other. "Not for long, Sam." "Yes, sir," said the captain, feebly; "the water isn't rising here." "It must be pouring into the mine like a cataract. Look how it's rushing along here, and I can feel it creeping slowly up my legs." "Yes, sir, I'm afraid you are right. I've been thinking for some time that we couldn't do any more." "Whereabouts are we now?" "I'm not quite sure, sir; but if we go on a bit farther you'll find one of my arrows on the wall." "Come on, then," cried Gwyn, "you lead again with the light. No, Grip, old chap, I can carry you,"--for the dog had made a bit of a struggle to get down. He subsided, though, directly, nestling his muzzle close to his master's cheek, and they went on, splash, splash, through the water till they reached one of the turnings. "Don't seem to be any arrow here, sir," said Hardock, holding up his light. "Can't have been washed out, because the water hasn't been high enough." "But you said you had put an arrow at every turn," cried Gwyn. "Every turning I come to, sir; but I'm sure now; I was in a bit of a doubt before--I haven't been along here. It's all fresh." "Turn back then," said Gwyn. "But the water's running this way, sir, and it must be shallower farther on." "How do we know that?" cried Gwyn; "this stream may be rushing on to fill deeper places." And as if to prove the truth of his theory, the water ran gurgling, swirling, and eddying about their legs, but evidently rising. "Yes, sir, how do we know that?" said the man, who was rapidly growing more dazed and helpless. "I don't kinder feel to know what's best to be done with the water coming on like that. No pumping would ever get the better of this, and--and--" He said no more, but leaned his arm against the side and rested his head upon it. "Oh, come, that won't do, Sam," cried Gwyn; "we must help one another." "Yes, sir, of course; but wouldn't one of you two young gents like to take the lead? You, Mr Joe Jollivet--you haven't had a turn, and you've got two lights." "What's the use of me trying to lead?" said Joe, bitterly, "I feel as helpless as you do--just as if I could sit down and cry like a great girl." "Needn't do that, Jolly," said Gwyn, bitterly; "there's salt water enough here. I'm sure it's three inches deeper than it was. Hark!" They stood fast, listening to the strange murmuring noise that came whispering along. "It's the water running," said Joe, in awestricken tones. "Yes, it's the water dripping, and running along by the walls. Why, there must be hundreds of streams." "And you're standing talking like that," cried Joe, angrily. "We know all about the streams. Do something." Gwyn stood frowning for a few moments. "You lead on now," he said, "and try again. I'll come close behind you." "But it gets deeper this way." "Perhaps only for a short distance, and then it may rise. Go on." Joe started at once, for he felt, as if he must obey, but before they had gone a hundred yards the water had risen to Gwyn's waist. "Back again," he said; "it gets deeper and deeper." "Then it's all over with us, gen'lemen," said Hardock. "Tom Dinass has got his revenge against us, and it's time to begin saying our prayers." "Time to begin saying our prayers!" cried Gwyn, angrily. "I've been saying mine ever since we knew the worst. It's time we began to work, and try our best to save our lives. Now, Joe, on again the other way, and take the first turning off to the left." Joe obeyed, and they struggled back amidst the whispering and gurgling sounds which came from out of the darkness, before and behind; while now, to fully prove what was wrong, they noticed the peculiar odour of the sea-water when impregnated with seaweed in a state of decay, and directly after Gwyn had called attention to the fact Joe uttered a cry. "What is it?" said Gwyn anxiously. "Don't drown the lights." "Something--an eel, I think--clinging round my leg." "Eel wouldn't cling round your leg; he'd hold on by his teeth. See what it is." "Long strands of bladder-wrack," said Joe, after cautiously raising one leg from the water. "No mistake about the sea bursting in," said Gwyn. "Why, of course, it has done so before. Don't you remember finding sand and sea-shells in some of the passages?" No one spoke; and finding that the efforts he had, at no little cost to himself, made to divert his companions' attention from their terrible danger were vain, he too remained nearly always silent, listening shudderingly to the wash, wash of the water as they tramped through it, and he thought of the time coming when it would rise higher and higher still. Gwyn could think no more in that way, for the horror that attacked him at the thought that it meant they must all soon die. Once the idea came to him that he was watching his companions struggling vainly in the black water; but, making a desperate effort, he forced himself to think only of the task they had in hand, and just then he shouted to Joe to turn off to the left, for another opening appeared, and the lad was going past it with his head bent down. Joe turned off mechanically, his long, lank figure looking strange in the extreme; and as he swung the lanthorns in each hand, grotesque shadows of his tall body were thrown on the wall on either side, and sometimes over the gleaming water which rushed by them, swift in places as a mill-race. And still the water grew deeper, and no more arrows pointed faintly from the wall. The water was more than waist-deep now, and the chill feeling of despair was growing rapidly upon all. The lads did not speak, though they felt their position keenly enough, but Hardock uttered a groan from time to time, and at last stopped short. "Don't do that," cried Gwyn, flashing into anger for a moment; but the man's piteous reply disarmed him, and he felt as despairing. "Must, sir--I must," groaned the man; "I can't do any more. You've been very kind to me, Master Gwyn, and I'd like to shake hands with you first, and say good-bye. There--there's nothing for it but to give up, and let the water carry you away, as it keeps trying to do. We've done all that man can do; there's no hope of getting out of the mine, so let's get out of our misery at once." _ |
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