CHAPTER XIV.
ABANDONED.
There was a pause as we stood in the deepening darkness at the end of that horrible tunnel. Cold, hungry, and despairing, I think if I had been alone I should have broken down completely; but George Woodley, though no doubt sharing to a great extent my own feelings, did his best for my sake to put as cheerful a face on the matter as was possible under the circumstances.
"Cheer up, Master Eden," he exclaimed. "While there's life there's hope, and we're a good way off being dead yet, sir. I shouldn't wonder," he continued, "if this doesn't turn out all for the best as far as we're concerned. These men, drunk as they are, will be certain to be captured as soon as they step ashore. Lewis will think of us and say where we are, and my belief is we shall be rescued to-morrow morning."
There certainly did seem some probability that things would turn out as the guard suggested; anyway, it was a ray of hope to lighten the gloom of our present situation. Still, the prospect of spending another night in that dark cavern, with the danger of the sea rising ever present in our minds, seemed almost unbearable.
"We mustn't let the fire out," said my companion. "There's that bird to cook, and I'm fairly famished."
I myself was faint with hunger, for, owing to the drunken outbreak among the convicts, we had spent the whole day since our scanty breakfast without food. The pheasant which one of the men had drawn and plucked had lain unheeded and forgotten since the appearance of the brandy kegs, and this we decided should form our evening meal.
Building up the fire and improvising a spit on which to roast the bird occupied our attention, and relieved our minds by diverting our thoughts from our forlorn and perilous position. We found the metal cup which Rodwood had flung down, and also the wine bottle, the neck of which had been broken off, and this we placed under a trickle of fresh water—the dipper having been carried off in the boat.
"The rascals have taken the coach lamp with them," said George. "We shall have to feel our way about as best we can."
Almost as he spoke my foot struck against something which slid along the rock with a metallic clatter, and stooping down, to my joy I picked up the guard's clasp-knife, which had also been overlooked by the drunken gang at the time of their departure. The find gave us considerable satisfaction, as the knife had proved of great service in many ways, and we were already contemplating the necessity of tearing the pheasant apart with our fingers.