Fire Island Part 22

For at that moment one of the sailors ran staggering back through the darkness and fell heavily.

"Help, someone, help!" came in the mate's voice, and by a tremendous effort he too staggered out, half bearing, half supporting Panton, and both falling heavily before they could be supported.

"Hi! All of you this way!" roared Smith, but his words were evidently not heard. However, they were unnecessary, for first two together and then three, the party of sailors tottered out overcome by the fumes, only one of them being sufficiently master of himself to sit down and hold his head; the others fell p.r.o.ne on the dry burnt ground.

"They'll believe us now," said Smith with a dry laugh.

"Man, man, don't talk. Try and help them," cried Drew. "Hah, look here."

"Can't, sir! too dark."

"Feel those men whether they have water-bottles with them; Mr Rimmer here has."

"Right, sir. Here's one."

"Give them water, then," cried Drew, setting the example and pouring some of the cool fluid between the lips of first Panton, and then of the mate. But it was some minutes before it had the slightest effect, and there was a time when it seemed as if a fresh calamity was to be added to their other trouble.

But first one and then another began to mutter incoherently before sinking into a heavy sleep, the mate, who was the most vigorous man present, having the hardest fight of all, and when he did cease babbling as he lay there in the darkness there was a coldness of hand and weakness of pulse that was startling.

Then came a weary time of waiting in the darkness beneath the glittering stars till all at once Smith suggested that he should light a fire.

"We don't want it to warm ourselves, sir," he said, "but it'll make the place more cheery like and keep off the wild beasties if there are any about."

"Where are you going to get your wood from, matey?" growled Wriggs.

"Ah, I never thought o' that, mate. There aren't none about here, that's certain."

"And you don't want none," cried Wriggs, for suddenly the mist was lit up by a bright glare of light and above it the globular-looking cloud became illuminated as if from some burst of light below. "That's good enough to see by, aren't it?"

Drew rose to his feet to stand gazing wildly at the bright illumination which showed plainly enough the overcome men lying in uneasy att.i.tudes as they had fallen.

The two sailors sprang to their feet, for there was a quivering motion of the earth, whose surface heaved as does a cloth held at the corners and shaken. The next moment there was a tearing, splitting sound running apparently toward them, and by the reflected light, there, plainly enough, a rift could be seen opening slowly, more and more widely, and evidently going straight for where Panton lay.

"Earthquake!" shouted Drew. "Quick! help!!" But the two men stood shivering and helpless as if unable to stir, and the fate now of the young geologist and the mate seemed to be sealed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BILLY WRIGGS' BACCY-BOX.

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 bra.s.s 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 bra.s.s 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?"