Commodore Junk — page 89: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

82 COMMODORE JUNK. and his heart began to beat more wildly than ever, for Bart caught his hand, drew it toward him, and as it was yielded, directed the fingers downward to the stone level with the floor. Abel’s heart gave another bound, for that stone was loose, and as he was pressed aside he heard a faint gritting, his com- panion’s breath seemed to come more thickly, as if from exertion, and for the next hour—an hour that seemed like twelve—Abel lay, unable to help, but panting with anxiety, as the gritting noise went on, and he could mentally see that Bart was slowly drawing out rough pieces of badly-cemented stone —rough fragments really of coral and limestone from the nearest reef, of which the prison barrack was built. Three times over Abel had tried to help, but the firm pres- sure of his companion’s hand forcing him back spoke volumes, and he subsided into his position in the utter darkness, listening with his pulses throbbing and subsiding, as the gritting sound was made or the reverse. At last, after what seemed an age, a faint breath of com- paratively cool air began to play upon his cheek, as Bart seemed to work steadily on. That breath grew broader and fuller, and there was a soft odour of the sea mingled with the damp cool- ness of a breeze which had passed over the dewy ground before it began to set steadily in at the opening at which Bart had so patiently worked, for that there was an opening was plain enough now, as Abel exultantly felt. In his inaction the torture of the dread was intense, and he lay wondering whether, if they did get out, Mary would still be waiting, expecting them, or their efforts prove to have been vain. At last, just when he felt as if he could bear it no longer, Bart’s hand gripped him by the shoulder, and pressed him tightly. Then in the darkness his hand was seized and guided Gomichbooksneo