Sappers and Miners Part 77

"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 pa.s.sages 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 Dina.s.s, 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 pa.s.sages 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 Dina.s.s 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-sh.e.l.ls in some of the pa.s.sages?"

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.