The thought acted on him like a stimulant. All his apathy forgotten now, Herc began feeling about the ceiling of the place. Far from wishing that the tide would recede, he was now afraid that it would do so before he had had time to locate the trap-door.
How he wished that he had a match! It was terribly tedious work feeling about that ceiling in the pitchy darkness. The planking above was rough, too, and Herc was by no means sure that he could distinguish the trap-door when he came to it.
But at last, after what seemed to be an eternity of fumbling, his fingers encountered what felt like the under end of some bolts.
He guessed that he had found the fastenings of the trap-door at last. Raising himself on his friendly plank, Herc exerted his strength and pushed upward.
Sosh! The effort sent him under water. But he didn't mind that. He was sure that the door had yielded a little.
The next time he tried, he braced himself on a supporting ceiling beam by one hand while he shoved upward with the other. He almost uttered a shout of joy as he did so.
The door moved!
He inserted his fingers in the crack, and then, using his head as a lever, he drew himself up till he could rest his chest on the flooring of the passage.
The rest was easy. Within five minutes, Herc, dripping wet and chilled to the bone, was standing in the passage—safe and sound. As he stood there, he did not forget to offer up a fervent prayer of thankfulness to Providence for his deliverance.