King Solomon's Mines eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 243 pages of information about King Solomon's Mines.

And so the night wore on.

“Good,” said Sir Henry’s voice at last, and it sounded awful in the intense stillness, “how many matches have you in the box?”

“Eight, Curtis.”

“Strike one and let us see the time.”

He did so, and in contrast to the dense darkness the flame nearly blinded us.  It was five o’clock by my watch.  The beautiful dawn was now blushing on the snow-wreaths far over our heads, and the breeze would be stirring the night mists in the hollows.

“We had better eat something and keep up our strength,” I suggested.

“What is the good of eating?” answered Good; “the sooner we die and get it over the better.”

“While there is life there is hope,” said Sir Henry.

Accordingly we ate and sipped some water, and another period of time elapsed.  Then Sir Henry suggested that it might be well to get as near the door as possible and halloa, on the faint chance of somebody catching a sound outside.  Accordingly Good, who, from long practice at sea, has a fine piercing note, groped his way down the passage and set to work.  I must say that he made a most diabolical noise.  I never heard such yells; but it might have been a mosquito buzzing for all the effect they produced.

After a while he gave it up and came back very thirsty, and had to drink.  Then we stopped yelling, as it encroached on the supply of water.

So we sat down once more against the chests of useless diamonds in that dreadful inaction which was one of the hardest circumstances of our fate; and I am bound to say that, for my part, I gave way in despair.  Laying my head against Sir Henry’s broad shoulder I burst into tears; and I think that I heard Good gulping away on the other side, and swearing hoarsely at himself for doing so.

Ah, how good and brave that great man was!  Had we been two frightened children, and he our nurse, he could not have treated us more tenderly.  Forgetting his own share of miseries, he did all he could to soothe our broken nerves, telling stories of men who had been in somewhat similar circumstances, and miraculously escaped; and when these failed to cheer us, pointing out how, after all, it was only anticipating an end which must come to us all, that it would soon be over, and that death from exhaustion was a merciful one (which is not true).  Then, in a diffident sort of way, as once before I had heard him do, he suggested that we should throw ourselves on the mercy of a higher Power, which for my part I did with great vigour.

His is a beautiful character, very quiet, but very strong.

And so somehow the day went as the night had gone, if, indeed, one can use these terms where all was densest night, and when I lit a match to see the time it was seven o’clock.

Once more we ate and drank, and as we did so an idea occurred to me.

“How is it,” said I, “that the air in this place keeps fresh?  It is thick and heavy, but it is perfectly fresh.”

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King Solomon's Mines from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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