“Let me take my skin, then,” cried Wriggs. “Don’t tear it all off,” as he winced beneath the savage grip which checked his descent.
“Nay I weant, mate,” growled Smith. “I wants it, too, and hold tight, Billy, the deck’s giving way. Heave ho!”
Smith threw himself backward as he made a tremendous heave, and none too soon, for a great patch of the earth at the side gave way where he stood. But he had thrown all a strong man’s force into one mighty effort, and as Drew stood trembling and helpless, he saw the two men clasped in each other’s arms, rolling over and over into safety, just as a horrible fume rose from the rift which now ran on in a zigzag split, like a flash of lightning in shape, and as rapid. Then followed a sharp report as of subterranean thunder and the earth closed again.
“Would yer bite—would yer bite!” grumbled Wriggs, as he stared at the earth.
“Well, of all the onsartain dangerous places as ever I was in,” said Smith, in a low growl, “this here’s about the worst.”
“Ay, ’tis mate,” said Wriggs. “Sea’s safest arter all. I say, though,” he continued as he softly rubbed himself about the ribs, “might ha’ took hold of a fellow a bit easier, Tommy. You’ve made me feel all loose.”
“Sarve yer right, chucking yerself down like that. Why, if it hadn’t been for me, you’d ha’ been nipped fast there. Now, then, where’s that there ’bacco-box? Hand over.”
“Nay, I said I’d leave it to yer, mate. I was making o’ my will. Going to use it a bit longer, mate, but I’ll give yer a quid.”
“What an escape, my lads,” panted Drew, who now came up and shook hands with them both warmly.
“Well, it weer pretty close, sir,” said Wriggs, as he went on gently rubbing his sides. “But I’m beginning to think as Tommy Smith had better ha’ left me alone. His fingers is as hard as a brass statoo’s. But there, mate, I forgives yer. How’s the gents, sir?”