In a moment, therefore, we were wide awake and afoot and all agog to return to the nose of the shaft. But of this Mansel would not hear, until we had all of us bathed and broken our fast.
“Method in all things,” he said. “Disorder never won yet and never will. We went off the deep end last night, but we’re not going to do it again. From now on we’ll labour by shifts: there’ll always be four at work and one at rest. I don’t know how much we can stand; but it won’t be for long, and four hours on to one off seems the most convenient rule.”
And, whilst we were eating, he outlined what must be done to cope with a sudden attack.
“The one who is off duty must sleep in the oubliette. Tester will wake him all right, in the event of attack. The moment he’s waked, he will withdraw to the ramp—of course, taking Tester with him—and close the postern gate. And he will hold the ramp, while the others will hold the shaft. In this way we shall have them between two fires, and, if we don’t loose off too soon, it ought to be a walkover.”
Then he told us to mind how we went at the head of the ramp, as well as at the mouth of the shaft, because he had built two breastworks out of some sacks of earth.
“Why, you can’t have rested at all,” cried Hanbury.
“I had two full hours,” said Mansel, “and now I’m to have one more. Chandos, what time do you make it?”
I told him twenty past twelve.
“I shall be your relief,” said he. “I count upon you to wake me at half past one.” I suppose I hesitated, for he continued at once. “Unless you give me your word, I shall not sleep.”
“I promise,” said I.
“Very good,” said Mansel. “But if, before then, you strike oil—well, I don’t mind being called early to hear the news.”
Five minutes later we were at the nose of the shaft.
We had still five yards to go, before we should come to the end of the belt of live ground: but, though we went steadily forward, we now took to searching right and left, by dint of driving a crowbar, as though it were a great nail, into the wall. Again and again, by this means, we thought we had found the chamber, but when we had laid bare the obstruction, each time it proved to be some boulder or two or three smaller stones. In this way the tunnel began to lose its symmetry, and, though this could not be helped, the propping of the roof with timber became a less downright business and wasted a lot of time.
We worked frantically, speaking very little, but doing the best we could to maintain the system of labour which should turn to the best account such joint strength as we had.
The hewer stood on a sheet on to which his winnings must fall. As soon as these began to encumber him he would stand back and away: at once his assistant would draw back the sheet from the face and lay in its place another to catch the next fall of earth. The assistant then disposed of the soil he had drawn away, and by the time he was back the second sheet would be full. The carpenter followed the hewer as close as he could, pitching his uprights and crossbars and wedging them into place: and the fourth was man of all work, now shovelling loose earth that had fallen clear of the sheet or had not fallen, now helping the carpenter, and now bringing up fresh wood.
An hour before his relief, each man had a pint of champagne, and, when he was waked, was given a quarter of an hour in which to bathe and eat. Mansel fed Tester himself twice in the day, and that was all the attention the poor dog had: yet he was as good as gold, never obtruding himself as so many dogs would have done, but seeming to know that we were fighting with Time and faithfully keeping to his post in the oubliette.
By eleven o’clock that night we had advanced five yards and were clear of the live ground.
It was impossible not to be disappointed and very hard not to be dismayed. And, when I had called for a crowbar and, with three mighty blows, slammed this up to its head into the nose of the shaft, and touched not so much as a pebble, I think we all avoided each other’s eyes.
But Hanbury—for Mansel was resting—wasted no time. By his direction we immediately withdrew five yards and began to drive a new tunnel out of the left-hand wall.
For no reason that I can offer, the half hour that followed seems for me to stand out of that period of toil and trouble; and I remember most vividly the sob of the hewer each time that he launched his pickaxe and the smell of sweat and the blinding glare of the searchlight and even a mark on a timber retaining the left-hand wall. To our right, the five yards we had won to no purpose continually mocked us, like the Psalmist’s bulls of Bashan, gaping upon us with its mouth: to our left, our long, clean-cut gallery seemed to be leading fantastically into another world. I can see Hanbury poising the compass and hear him curse as his sweat fell on to its dial: and, when Bell who was hewing, missed his stroke, I remember snatching the pickaxe and missing mine.
So the work went on; and the niche in the left-hand wall had grown to an entrance, when Hanbury looked at his wristwatch and cried that my time was up.
I stumbled back to
