“Yes, yes,” I shouted, recovering myself; but I could not say “Go on”; for, to my shame I say it, I hoped they would have drawn me up.
But, no; down, down, lower and lower. And now I began to smell the burnt, smoky air, but could still breathe freely, and tried to nerve myself to be on the watch for the strata of foul gas into which I felt I must be descending.
“Right, right,” I kept shouting; and still down, lower and lower, till it seemed that there could be no bottom; while the bucket kept turning round till it was impossible to keep from feeling giddy. And now in one swing from side to side, the bucket struck the wall, which gave me a new cause for alarm, and when nearing it again, I put out my hand and touched the cold slippery side, when I shuddered more than ever.
It did not seem dark: but of a peculiar gloomy aspect, a good deal of which was due, no doubt, to the smoke of the burnt straw.
“Right, right,” I shouted, still breathing freely, till the bucket reached the bottom, when I stepped hastily out, and, looking up the well, untwined the two ropes, and grasped the man nearest to me, who was sitting upon the half-burnt straw with which the bottom was covered; while the other stood staring at me as he leaned up against the wall, over his knees in the slime of the bottom.
I could feel no holding of the breath; no stifling or sleepy sensation; nothing but horrible fear; as I hastily slipped the rope over my head and secured it with a noose round the poor fellow, whose arm I grasped. I trembled as I did so, for it seemed like throwing away my own safeguard. But in a moment more I stepped in the bucket and yelled out—“Up, up, quickly.”
The rope tightened, and we began to rise; and as we did so I shouted to the poor fellow we were leaving—“Back for you directly.”
He stared at me with, glassy eyes, but remained immoveable; and I felt my courage rise as we grew less and less distant from the light of heaven. The ropes twisted and turned, but we rose rapidly, and as the windlass creaked and groaned I could hear the voices above cheering, and I responded with a faint “hurrah.” But directly after the fear came upon me again—“Suppose the rope should break!” It did not, though; but I nearly left go of the stout hemp with the effects of the tremor which seized me. But now the cheers grew louder, and at last our heads rose above the sides, when a dozen hands laid hold of us, and we were on terra firma once more.
“Here, drink this,” cried a voice; and a glass of brandy was pushed into my hand. It was nectar indeed.
“Now,” cried young Brown, “I’ll fetch this one up.”