It was dull, heavy, slow-going Billy Wriggs who saved their lives. One
moment he stood scratching his head, the next he had made a rush like a
bull, thrown himself down on his side, and somehow managing to get a
good grip of the mate's waistband, had swung him over towards Smith.
"Run him farder away," cried Wriggs, and he shuffled himself then to
Panton just as the rift opened widely.
There was a quick rustling sound, and a dull thud as Panton was gripped
hard--flesh as well as clothes, and swung over the sailor into
comparative safety.
But it was at the man's own expense, for he began to glide downward in a
slow, gradual way, first his legs, then his body, till only his chest
was visible as he dug his fingers into the ground and tried to hold on.
At such a time it might have been expected that the man would shriek out
in agony and despair, slowly subsiding as he was into a rift which
promised a death so horrible, that those who looked on were paralysed
for the moment beyond affording help; but Billy Wriggs' words did not
indicate suffering or terror, only a good-hearted friendly remembrance
of his messmate, for he shouted out as if by way of farewell,--
"Tommy, old mate, I leave yer my brass baccy-box."
The words galvanised Smith into action. He had seized and dragged
Panton away in time, but as he saw his companion sinking into the crack
which grew slowly longer and wider, he stood with his eyes staring and
jaw dropped till the words "baccy-box" reached his ears. Then he made a
rush to where Wriggs' head and shoulders only remained above ground,
stooped quickly, and seized him by his thin garment, and held on,
checking further descent and gazing wildly at his messmate, whose rugged
features upturned to the red glow of light appeared to be singularly
calm and placid.
"Steady, mate," he said mildly. "Don't tear my shirt."
"Won't I!" cried Smith, savagely. "Where's that theer box?"
"Breeches' pocket, mate."
"That's you all over," snarled Smith, as his hands got a better grip,
first one and then the other, and his voice sounded like an angry growl
between his set teeth. "Promise--a chap--a box--and then--going to take
it with yer. Yer would, would yer? But yer just won't."
"Let me take my skin, then," cried Wriggs. "Don't tear it all off," as
he winced beneath the savage grip which checked his descent.
"Nay I weant, mate," growled Smith. "I wants it, too, and hold tight,
Billy, the deck's giving way. Heave ho!"
Smith threw himself backward as he made a tremendous heave, and none too
soon, for a great patch of the earth at the side gave way where he
stood. But he had thrown all a strong man's force into one mighty
effort, and as Drew stood trembling and helpless, he saw the two men
clasped in each other's arms, rolling over and over into safety, just as
a horrible fume rose from the rift which now ran on in a zigzag split,
like a flash of lightning in shape, and as rapid. Then followed a sharp
report as of subterranean thunder and the earth closed again.
"Would yer bite--would yer bite!" grumbled Wriggs, as he stared at the
earth.
"Well, of all the onsartain dangerous places as ever I was in," said
Smith, in a low growl, "this here's about the worst."
"Ay, 'tis mate," said Wriggs. "Sea's safest arter all. I say, though,"
he continued as he softly rubbed himself about the ribs, "might ha' took
hold of a fellow a bit easier, Tommy. You've made me feel all loose."
"Sarve yer right, chucking yerself down like that. Why, if it hadn't
been for me, you'd ha' been nipped fast there. Now, then, where's that
there 'bacco-box? Hand over."
"Nay, I said I'd leave it to yer, mate. I was making o' my will. Going
to use it a bit longer, mate, but I'll give yer a quid."
"What an escape, my lads," panted Drew, who now came up and shook hands
with them both warmly.
"Well, it weer pretty close, sir," said Wriggs, as he went on gently
rubbing his sides. "But I'm beginning to think as Tommy Smith had
better ha' left me alone. His fingers is as hard as a brass statoo's.
But there, mate, I forgives yer. How's the gents, sir?"
Drew shook his head, and after the mate and Panton had been carried some
little distance from where the earth had split open and re-closed, the
party seated themselves in a despondent state to watch the golden cloud
which hung high in air, like a huge ball of liquid fire, and lit up the
place while they waited for morn.
Panton and Mr Rimmer both seemed to be sleeping heavily, and one of the
sailors remained similarly affected, but their state did not appear now
to be so alarming after the past experience, and Drew contented himself
with satisfying himself from time to time that they were breathing
comfortably, while he waited and thought sadly about their young
companion.
"If I could only feel satisfied that we had done everything possible to
save him," he said to himself, for his conscience reproached him for
idling there when he might have perhaps schemed some way of dragging him
out from the mist.
Just about the time when his spirits were at the lowest ebb he became
conscious of the fact that the two sailors, Smith and Wriggs, were
engaged in an argument with one of the rescue party, and he listened to
what was said.
"Look-ye here," growled Smith, "what's the good o' you talking that way?
You see how it was; yer couldn't hardly breathe, and what yer could
breathe warn't fresh hair, but a rum sort o' stuff as comes out o' the
earth and knocks yer over 'fore you knows where you are. I never felt
nowt like it, did you, Billy?"
"No; and never wants to smell it again. Yer didn't feel it, yer smelt
it, lads, and then you was nowheres. Say, Tommy."
"What is it?"
"Wonder what it's like down below, inside like. You hauled me out 'fore
I'd half a chance to find out."
"Why didn't yer say yer wanted to see? Then I'd ha' let yer go."
"Nay, you wouldn't, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle. "Be too warm,
wouldn't it?"
"But what I was saying, mates, was as I don't think we tried hard enough
to find Mr Lane. We ought to have done something."
"Ay; but how are you going to do it?" said Wriggs, shortly, just as the
man's words had gone like a pang through Drew's breast, making him feel
that even the men were judging him adversely. "That's the worst o' you
clever ones: you says, says you, `We ought to do some'at,' but you don't
say what."
"That's a true word, Billy Wriggs," cried Smith, clapping his messmate
on the shoulder, "they don't say what. Why, 'fore you chaps come, Mr
Panton and Mr Drew--"
"And Tommy Smith," growled Wriggs.
"Well, I did try a bit, mate, and so did you, till we couldn't do no
more. I don't believe a hangel could ha' done more than Billy did."
"Oh, I say, mate," grumbled Wriggs, modestly.
"I says it again, `could ha' done more than Billy did.' But it's like
this here, mates, the onpossible's just a bit too hard for a man to do,
and whether he likes it or whether he don't, he's got to put up with it,
and that's what clever people calls flossify."
"And quite rightly, my man," said Drew, coming close up. "Smith and
Wriggs behaved like brave, true men, my lads."
"Easy, sir, please. We only tried same as you did."
"You think, then, that we tried everything that was possible to save my
friend?"
"Think, sir? Why, Billy and me's sure on it, eh, Billy?"
"Sartain."
"Hah!" ejaculated Drew, "you have done me good, my lads, for my heart
felt very sore and my conscience reproached me cruelly for not doing
more."
"It's all right, sir," cried Smith, cheerily. "You wait till the
morning comes, and then we shall see a way o' sarcumventing this gas, as
you calls it, and I daresay we shall find Mr Lane somewhere all right
on t'other side."
"If I could only feel that, I could rest till morning," said Drew.
"Then just you feel it, sir," said Smith. "It's what I feels strong."
"So do I, sir, now," put in Wriggs. "If Tommy Smith mays so, it's all
right."
Drew tried to think that it was, but the pleasant, hopeful sensation
would not come, and he sat now with the men, now beside the mate and his
friend Panton, waiting for the morning, the first hints of its approach
being in the gradual paling of the golden light from the cloud over the
volcano, and the appearance of the softer, more natural glow, that came
in the east, bringing with it a more diffused light, and the hope that
rides in with the dazzling rays of a new day.