"All clear, sir," shouted a blackened and grimy sick-bay steward. "That's the lot of 'em."
As he spoke, a portion of the floor collapsed. The man disappeared from view into a gaping pit of smouldering debris, almost before he had time to utter a cry.
Had Tressidar given a moment's thought he might have hesitated, but in an instant he leapt after the luckless man.
He alighted feet foremost upon a heap of charred wood, from which the smoke poured in thick, eddying clouds. Gasping and vainly endeavouring to check himself from coughing, the sub. stooped and groped. His hands came in contact with the unfortunate man, who in falling must have struck his head against some solid object, for he was unconscious and lying on his back upon the smouldering debris.
Raising the man and hoisting him upon his shoulders, Tressidar looked round for a means of escape. Apparently there was none. Seven feet above his head was an irregularly shaped hole, through which he could discern the flame-tinged smoke. A crash announced that another portion of the roof had collapsed, and with it a part of the outside wall. Even had he been missed, the sub. realised that rescue in that direction was out of the question.
His lack of knowledge of the plan of the buildings, too, was against him. So far as he could make out, he had leapt into a cellar that had been used as a store for hospital goods. Seen through the smoke, the place appeared to have no exit, yet he argued—the thought flashing across his mind—that there must be some means of communication apart from the hole in the floor that had just been caused by the flames.
Choking and spluttering, his eyes streaming with water from the effects of the driving particles of hot ashes, Tressidar plunged into the darkness with his burden lying inertly across his back.
Stumbling between rows of packing-cases the sub: struggled on, until further progress was barred by a solid stone wall. Retreat in that direction was cut off. For a few seconds he stood, still half dazed at the discovery, then, turning, he lurched heavily in the opposite direction.
He was gasping deeply. The lack of pure air and the dead weight upon his shoulders was telling upon his powerful frame. His lungs seemed on the point of bursting. Yet he gamely struggled onwards.
Over the heap of smouldering rubbish on which he had alighted when he had made his voluntary leap into the trap he scrambled, fell on his knees, and with a strenuous effort recovered himself. Beyond was another dark, smoke-enshrouded cavity. Was there an exit in that direction, he wondered?