Geoffrey took a lantern from a rough shelf, and together they visited office, stables, and the various buildings, ending by going towards the shaft, when Pengelly suddenly uttered a cry.
“What’s wrong?” cried Geoffrey, excitedly, though the knowledge had come to him at the same moment as to his man.
“She’s burst in, sir. Oh, listen! She’s burst in!”
And as Geoffrey bent over the shaft, the fearful sound of the rushing water flooding the mine rose from the echoing depths upon his ear.
Stunned by the nature of the catastrophe, Geoffrey Trethick stood clutching the framework of the shaft, and leaned over listening to the surging roar of the water as it seemed to him to come bursting up through the winzes in fountains and rushing in triumph through each gallery and drive.
As for Pengelly, he had thrown himself upon the ground, and for a time neither spoke.
“Is this treachery or accident, Pengelly?” cried Trethick at last in a hoarse, changed voice.
“Call it judgment, sir—call it judgment,” groaned the miner. “If we sin, the punishment must find us out.”
“Pengelly?” cried Geoffrey, as he turned upon him in his rage. “There, I cannot argue with you now. What can we do?”
“Do!” cried Pengelly, piteously. “Do nothing. What can we do but pray and ask for mercy and help, sir, from above.”