Part 77 (2/2)

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.

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