Almost at the same moment the rush and roar increased a hundred-fold, confusing and startling us, and then, as if by magic, there was a tremendous thud against the walls that shook the foundations; a fierce hissing noise, and one moment we were standing in the midst of glowing light, the next moment we were to our waists in water dashed against the opposite wall, and all was black darkness.
As we struggled to our feet the water was sinking, but the horrible crashing, rushing noise was still going on—water, a huge river of water was rushing right through our factory threatening to sweep it away, and then the flood seemed to sink as quickly as it had come, and we stood holding hands, listening to the gurgling rush that was rapidly dying away.
“What is it?” panted Uncle Bob.
“Life. Thank heaven, we are saved!” said Uncle Dick fervently.
“Amen!” exclaimed Uncle Jack. “Why, Dick,” he cried, “that great dam up in the hills must have burst and come sweeping down the vale!”
Uncle Jack was right, for almost as he spoke we could hear voices shouting “rezzyvoyer;” and for the moment we forgot our own troubles in the thought of the horrors that must have taken place up the vale.
But we could not stay where we were, half suffocated by the steam that rose, and, opening the door, which broke away half-burned through, we stood once more in the long workshop, which seemed little changed, save that here and there a black chasm yawned in the floor, among which we had to thread our way to where the stout door had been.
That and the staircase were gone, so that our only chance was to descend by lowering ourselves and dropping to the ground.
Just then we heard the splashing of feet in the yard, and a voice we recognised as Pannell cried:
“Mebbe they’ve got away. Ahoy there, mesters! Mester Jacob!”