Suddenly the silence was broken by the most extraordinary uproar from above them. The bell began clanging furiously: a chorus of bellowing grunts that increased in intensity as more and more of the brutes joined in almost drowned it. The ground over their heads shook violently: they could hear the lumbering footsteps passing backwards and forwards.
Gradually the clamour died away and the bell ceased, though a kind of deep chattering which still continued showed that their captors were very wide awake. It sounded as if something had excited them greatly, something which they were now discussing at length. And then clear above everything came an anguished cry.
"Help! For God's sake—help!"
Bill Blackett sat up with a jerk.
"That's not Mr. Maitland," he said positively, "though I know the voice."
"It was the dwarf," cried the girl. "I'd know his voice anywhere."
"The dwarf," said the sailor slowly. "And he was blind. That means they've been on board our motor-boat."
"And it means," said the girl excitedly, "that they haven't got Jim or Percy. He was left there alone."
Bill Blackett said nothing. Did it mean that of necessity? Or did it mean that Jim and his cousin had put up a fight and been killed, and that the dwarf being helpless had merely been captured?
The excitement above continued, though it was more controlled. One of the monsters seemed to be holding forth to the others, and when he'd finished his audience emitted a series of bellows that seemed to betoken approval. And almost immediately after there came, from the entrance to their prison, the sound of the barrier being removed, and the soft padding of bare feet on the ground. One of the brutes was with them.
They could hear its heavy breathing as it stumbled about, and suddenly there came a yell from one of the sailors—an Englishman.
"It's got me," he screamed. "Save me, boys."
His voice died away: the barrier crashed back, and Bill Blackett wiped the sweat from his forehead. One of them had been taken: whose turn was it going to be next? Impossible to help the poor devil: impossible to do anything except sit in the darkness and wait.
Above them the noise had again increased, and mingled with it came the shouts of the dwarf and the sailor. And then once again the bell began tolling, whilst the rest of the uproar ceased abruptly.
There was something almost solemn in the monotonous clanging: it sounded as if it might have been the accompaniment of some religious ceremony. It continued for about five minutes: then in the silence that followed one deep grunting voice could be heard. And suddenly one of the Brazilians near them cried out in horror and said something to one of his companions, something which once again Bill Blackett could understand roughly, and which caused him to stare into the darkness with haggard eyes. Sacrifice: human sacrifice to some god: that was what was going on above their heads.
"Help me, you little swine. Don't sit there doing nothing."
The voice of the sailor who had been taken came to them faintly, and Bill cursed under his breath. The poor devil was English anyhow, and it was intolerable to have to sit there helpless while he was being killed, perhaps tortured.
"Help me. For God's sake, say something to these brutes."
A frenzy of fear rang in the man's voice: evidently the end, whatever it was, was drawing near. And then it came.
"One of them has got me. One of them has got me."
The scream was almost inarticulate, and subsided into a meaningless babble of words which was drowned in the triumphant outburst of noise from the spectators. And after a while that too, subsided, and all was silent once more.
"What does it mean, Bill," said Judy in a trembling voice.
"It means, miss, that now we're one hand short," he answered quietly.
"You mean he's dead."
"That's it, miss, I'm afraid. They've killed him."
"And that's what is going to happen to us," she went on steadily.
"It looks like it, miss," he said.
"How do you think they did it?"
"I haven't an idea," he answered. "From what he called out he seemed to be appealing to that dwarf to help him."
"He said, 'One of them has got me.' Oh! my God, Bill," her voice rose to a scream, "can't you strangle me now?"
"Steady on, miss," said the sailor gently, though his heart was sick within him. "Don't let's give up hope yet. Maybe Mr. Maitland will find some way of escape for us."
But his voice lacked conviction and he knew it.
"Don't try and deceive me, Bill." With an effort she pulled herself together. "Things have gone too far for that. Do you think we've got a chance?"
"Yes," he cried stoutly. "I do. Provided Mr. Maitland is still free."
"And if he isn't?"
"Then our number is up, miss."
There was no good beating about the bush, he reflected: the girl was thoroughbred and had better know the truth.
"That's what I wanted to find out," she said. "Now, Bill, we've neither of us got a revolver, so I want you to do something for me. These sailors have all got knives. Will you please borrow one?"
"I have a knife myself, miss," he said quietly.
"Good. Then if the end comes, Bill: if we have to give up hope will you give me your solemn word of honour that you will kill me."
The sailor swallowed hard for a few moments, and then he answered her in a husky voice.
"If there's no hope left, miss, I give you my word of honour that I will kill you."
And with a little sigh of relief Judy Draycott stretched out her hand to him in the darkness. She knew he would not fail her.
"Will it be long, Bill, do you think?"
"Heaven knows, miss," he said, and even as he spoke there came the sound of the barrier being removed from the end of the tunnel, and a flickering light danced on the walls of their prison. One of the monsters carrying a torch which threw out great volumes of black smoke was coming towards them. Others were following, and the girl crept closer to him.
"Now, Bill—now. Quick—you promised."
He drew his clasp knife, and opened the big blade. The sweat was pouring off his forehead: his hand was shaking like that of a man with the ague. And he was just nerving himself for the supreme effort, when suddenly, clear and distinct there came a sound that made him pause. It was faint but unmistakable: it was the siren of the yacht. And who could be blowing it?
The monsters paused: the prisoners dimly outlined in the smoky light sat up listening. Steadily it went on blaring: long, long, long: long, short, long. Over and over again, until the meaning dawned on Bill. The morse code: O.K. Someone was sending those two letters into the night; who could it be but Jim Maitland? And with almost a sob of relief he replaced his knife in his pocket. In view of that message there was still hope.
CHAPTER XII
ALL around them the sailors were muttering excitedly. Even though they knew nothing of the existence of Jim Maitland, they realised that some human agency must be at work, and that therefore there was at any rate somebody who was not a prisoner.
And the monsters themselves seemed to realize it too. The one in front who appeared to be the leader was conferring with two others, stopping every now and then to listen to the siren which still went on monotonously, whilst the smoke from the torches made Judy's eyes smart and caught her in the throat.
At