I resumed work at the pump, the connections of which were so strongly contrived that they had withstood the shock of the upset.
For a moment we were content to rest while the air grew purer. Then we were forced squarely to face our fate.
The Professor summed up the facts in a few concise words.
"We're certainly doomed! Here at the bottom of Penguin Deep we're as out of reach of help as though we were stranded on the moon. We're as good as dead right now."
"If we have nothing left to hope for," whispered Stanley after a time, "we might as well close the air valves and get it over with at once. No use torturing ourselves...."
The Professor moistened his lips.
"It might be wise." He turned to me. "What's your opinion, Martin?"
But I—I confess I had not the stark courage of these two.
"No! No!" I cried out. "Let's keep on living as long as the air holds out. Something might happen—"