Year: 1871

the projecting rocks, we sat with our IA
ces turned in despair toward the open
ing and the God help us" that burst
from Trelawny's lips sounded like words
of doom to all.


Higher and higher crept the insatiate
waters, now reaching the very summit of
the arch, and obliterating the glimmer OF
light that yet stole in then, as if to
mock us, receding till the faint ray was
once more visible. Again and again
this happened but at last we were en-
veloped in pitchy darkness. The wall
of water had barred us in, and unless
God helped us, We had taken our last
look at the bright world without.


1t was hard to die SO young and even
now | think it no shame to our manhood
that choking sobs and earnest cries for
mercy thronged to our lips, as we strug-
gled to hold on against the volume of
water striving always to dash US onward
into the deep recesses of the chasm.
In our haste and alarm we had forgot
ten that small anchor was lying at the
bottom of she boat, but now, as larger
wave than we had hitherto contended
with came rushing on us, Trelawny gasp
ed out:


The anchor over with it or we are
lost ! / can hold out no longer"
In an instant | had it over the side
On came the believing wave; the boat
was lifted upon it our hands we're fore
cd to relinquish their grrsp of the jagg-
ed stones to which we had been clinging
and like an arrow we were driven for
ward but the anchor held, and for a
time we felt we were saved.


Up to this moment very few words had
been uttered, for the transition had been
too great from the mirth and sunshine
without, to the darkness and terror with
in, to permit of speech. We all knew
by what frail tenure we held our lives,
and silently huddled together, listening
to the wash of the pillows as they came
whirling and rumbling past our boat, to
dash with a conclusion like thunder,
against some recess of the cavern which
seemed to be far, far away.


Strange fears stole over us as we pray
ed incoherentlY that the anchor might
holland the wind drop, or clung instinct
lively to the sides of our vessel, when the
eddying waters hurled by, leaving be-
hind them transient calm, so profound
that we could hear our own deep breath
ing and the bitter grief Of our happy lit
tie coxswain. Were not his thoughts
with the widowed mother who, if she
lost him lost her all


Presently the awful stiffness was brok-
en- by rock crumbling from the roof
and falling with deafening crash not
many feet from where we lay, the sound
reverberating along the cavernous vaults
until it died away in the distance.


After awhile we fancied we beard the
moaning of the wind outside our prison.
Had it increased? And if the result
should be as terrible as we foreboded,
would our fate ever be known TO those
who would mourn for us Would any
vestige of the yawl or her unfortunate
crew be washed out to sea to tell the sad
tale


At last-anG what an eternity it SEEM
ed-we could discern faint glimmer of
light. A few seconds and it had van
ished. Then like bright star dawning
upon us, it steadily increased, and we
knew that the tide was falling. Breath
iessly we watched the bright harbinger
of hope till, with eyes that brimmed over
and voices tremulous with thankful ioy,
we told each other that we might now
make an effort to depart.


1t was not until after many narrow es-
capes from being dashed on the partly
sunken rocks that we succeeded in reach
ing the outer world. What we then
thought, or how we acted, may be better
imagined than described; and | suppose
| need scarcely say we have never since
then explored Cornish cavern when the
tide was running.