So Cyril Waring had toiled5 and moiled in that deadly atmosphere for some hours in vain, and now sat, wearied out and faint from foul6 vapours, by Elma’s side on the damp, cold footboard. By this time the air had almost failed them. They gasped7 for breath, their heads swam vaguely8. A terrible weight seemed to oppress their bosoms9. Even the lamps in the carriages flickered10 low and burned blue. The atmosphere of the tunnel, loaded from the very beginning with sulphurous smoke, was now all but exhausted11. Death stared them in the face without hope of respite—a ghastly, slow death by gradual stifling12.
“You MUST take a little water,” Elma murmured, pouring out the last few drops for him into the tin cup—for Cyril had brought a small bottleful that morning for his painting, as well as a packet of sandwiches for lunch. “You’re dreadfully tired. I can see your lips are parched13 and dry with digging.”
She was deathly pale herself, and her own eyes were livid, for by this time she had fairly given up all hope of rescue; and, besides, the air in the tunnel was so foul and stupefying, she could hardly speak; indeed, her tongue clung to her palate. But she poured out the last few drops into the cup for Cyril and held them up imploringly14, with a gesture of supplication15. These two were no strangers to one another now. They had begun to know each other well in those twelve long hours of deadly peril16 shared in common.
Cyril waved the cup aside with a firm air of dissent17.
“No, no,” he said, faintly, “you must drink it yourself. Your need is greater far than mine.”
Elma tried to put it away in turn, but Cyril would not allow her. So she moistened her mouth with those scanty18 last drops, and turned towards him gratefully.
“There’s no hope left now,” she said, in a very resigned voice. “We must make up our minds to die where we stand. But I thank you, oh, I thank you so much, so earnestly.”
Cyril, for his part, could hardly find breath to speak.
“Thank you,” he gasped out, in one last despairing effort. “Things look very black; but while there’s life there’s hope. They may even still, perhaps, come up with us.”
As he spoke19, a sound broke unexpectedly on the silence of their prison. A dull thud seemed to make itself faintly heard from beyond the thick wall of sand that cut them off from the daylight. Cyril stared with surprise. It was a noise like a pick-axe. Stooping hastily down, he laid his ear against the rail beside the shattered carriage.
“They’re digging!” he cried earnestly, finding words in his joy. “They’re digging to reach us! I can hear them! I can hear them!”
Elma glanced up at him with a certain tinge20 of half-incredulous surprise.
“Yes, they’re digging, of course,” she said quickly. “I knew they’d dig for us, naturally, as soon as they missed us. But how far off are they yet? That’s the real question. Will they reach us in time? Are they near or distant?”
Cyril knelt down on the ground as before, in an agony of suspense21, and struck the rail three times distinctly with his walking-stick. Then he put his ear to it and listened, and waited. In less than half a minute three answering knocks rang, dim but unmistakable, along the buried rail. He could even feel the vibration22 on the iron with his face.
“They hear us! They hear us!” he cried once more, in a tremor23 of excitement. “I don’t think they’re far off. They’re coming rapidly towards us.”
At the words Elma rose from her seat, still paler than ever, but strangely resolute24, and took the stick from his hand with a gesture of despair. She was almost stifled25. But she raised it with method. Knocking the rail twice, she bent26 down her head and listened in turn. Once more two answering knocks rang sharp along the connecting line of metal. Elma shook her head ominously27.
“No, no, they’re a very long way off still,” she murmured, in a faltering28 tone. “I can hear it quite well. They can never reach us!”
She seated herself on a fragment of the broken carriage, and buried her face in her hands once more in silence. Her heart was full. Her head was very heavy. She gasped and struggled. Then a sudden intuition seized her, after her kind. If the rail could carry the sound of a tap, surely it might carry the human voice as well. Inspired with the idea, she rose again and leant forward.
A second time she knocked two quick little taps, ringing sharp on the rail, as if to bespeak29 attention; then, putting her mouth close to the metals, she shouted aloud along them with all the voice that was left her—
“Hallo, there, do you hear? Come soon, come fast. We’re alive, but choking!”
Quick as lightning an answer rang back as if by magic, along the conducting line of the rail—a strange unexpected answer.
“Break the pipe of the wires,” it said, and then subsided30 instantly.
Cyril, who was leaning down at her side at the moment with his ear to the rail, couldn’t make out one word of it. But Elma’s sharp senses, now quickened by the crisis, were acute as an Oriental’s and keen as a beagle’s.
“Break the pipe of the wires,” they say, she exclaimed, starting back and pondering. “What on earth can they mean by that? What on earth can they be driving at? ‘Break the pipe of the wires.’ I don’t understand them.”
Hardly had she spoken, when another sharp tap resounded31 still more clearly along the rail at her feet. She bent down her head once more, and laid her eager ear beside it in terrible suspense. A rough man’s voice—a navvy’s, no doubt, or a fireman’s—came speeding along the metal; and it said in thick accents—
“Do you hear what I say? If you want to breathe freer, break the pipe of the wires, and you’ll get fresh air from outside right through it.”
Cyril this time had caught the words, and jumped up with a sudden air of profound conviction. It was very dark, and the lamps were going out, but he took his fusee-box from his pocket and struck a light hastily. Sure enough, on the left-hand side of the tunnel, half buried in rubbish, an earthenware32 pipe ran along by the edge near the wall of the archway. Cyril raised his foot and brought his heel down upon it sharply with all the strength and force he had still left in him. The pipe broke short, and Cyril saw within it a number of telegraph wires for the railway service. The tube communicated directly with the air outside. They were saved! They were saved! Air would come through the pipe! He saw it all now! He dimly understood it!
At the self-same moment, another sound of breaking was heard more distinctly at the opposite end, some thirty or forty feet off through the tunnel. Then a voice rang far clearer, as if issuing from the tube, in short, sharp sentences—
“We’ll pump you in air. How many of you are there? Are you all alive? Is any one injured?”
Cyril leant down and shouted back in reply—
“We’re two. Both alive. Not hurt. But sick and half dead with stifling. Send us air as soon as ever you can. And if possible pass us a bottle of water.”
Some minutes elapsed—three long, slow minutes of it—intense anxiety. Elma, now broken down with terror and want of oxygen, fell half fainting forward towards the shattered tube. Cyril held her up in his supporting arms, and watched the pipe eagerly. It seemed an age; but, after a time, he became conscious of a gust33 of air blowing cold on his face. The keen freshness revived him.
He looked about him and drew a deep breath. Cool air was streaming in through the broken place. Quick as thought, he laid Elma’s mouth as close as he could lay it to the reviving current. Her eyes were closed. After a painful interval34, she opened them languidly. Cyril chafed35 her hands with his, but his chafing36 seemed to produce very little effect. She lay motionless now with her eyelids half shut, and the whites of her eyes alone showing through them. The close, foul air of that damp and confined spot had worked its worst, and had almost asphyxiated37 her. Cyril began to fear the slight relief had arrived five minutes too late. And it must still in all probability be some hours at least before they could be actually disentombed from that living vault38 or restored to the open air of heaven.
As he bent over her and held his breath in speechless suspense, the voice called out again more loudly than ever—
“Look out for the ball in the tube. We’re sending you water!”
Cyril watched the pipe closely and struck another light. In a minute, a big glass marble came rattling39 through, with a string attached to it.
“Pull the string!” the voice cried; and Cyril pulled with a will. Now and again, the object attached to it struck against some projecting ledge40 or angle where the pipes overlapped41. But at last, with a little humouring, it came through in safety. At the end was a large india-rubber bottle, full of fresh water, and a flask42 of brandy. The young man seized them both with delight and avidity, and bathed Elma’s temples over and over again with the refreshing43 spirit. Then he poured a little into the cup, and filling it up with water, held it to her lips with all a woman’s tenderness. Elma gulped44 the draught45 down unconsciously, and opened her eyes at once. For a moment she stared about her with a wild stare of surprise.
Then, of a sudden, she recollected46 where she was, and why, and seizing Cyril’s hand, pressed it long and eagerly.
“If only we can hold out for three hours more,” she cried, with fresh hope returning, “I’m sure they’ll reach us; I’m sure they’ll reach us!”
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1
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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6
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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7
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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9
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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10
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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12
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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supplication
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| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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18
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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19
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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20
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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21
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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bespeak
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| v.预定；预先请求 | |
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30
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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31
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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32
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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35
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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36
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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37
asphyxiated
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| v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的过去式和过去分词 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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38
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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39
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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40
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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41
overlapped
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| _adj.重叠的v.部分重叠( overlap的过去式和过去分词 )；（物体）部份重叠；交叠；（时间上）部份重叠 | |
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42
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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43
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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44
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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45
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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46
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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