“But we must make for the shaft,” cried Joe, passionately.
“We can’t sir! It’s suicide! We couldn’t swim, and just a bit farther on, I tell you, the place must be full to the roof. Why, there must be eight or ten foot o’ water in the shaft.”
“Then are we lost?” cried Joe.
“A fellow’s never lost as long as he can make a fight for it,” said Gwyn, sharply. “Now, then, Sam, what’s to be done—go back?”
“Yes, sir, fast as we can, and make for the highest part of the mine.”
“Where is that?”
“The water will show us,” said Hardock. “I pray it may only be a bit of an underground pool burst to flood us; and they’ll pump and master it before it does us any harm.”
“No, no,” groaned Joe; “we’ve heard it beating overhead before, and the sea has burst in. We’re lost—we’re lost!”
“Then if the sea has bursted in,” cried Hardock, fiercely, “it’s that fellow Tom Dinass’s doing. He’s a spite against us all, and it’s to flood and ruin the mine.”
“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 passages that ran beneath the sea?