all around him, but it didnât bother him too much. What did disarm him was the eerie silence, broken only by the tiny hiss of the steam-driven pump that forced fresh air into his helmet.
When they drew near to the bottom of the river, the murkiness vanished and Griffin was able to see clearly through the helmetâs window. However, being at such depths and relying on a hastily constructed piece of machinery to keep him safe made Griffin feel very nervous. He couldnât help counting everything he saw. Three boulders, one old piece of pottery, two fishing lures, thirteen mussels . . .
He tried not to think about the long, delicate hose that was connected to his helmet, providing his only source of air from the surface. He forced himself not to worry about what would happen if the pump failed or a bird landed on the other end of his breathing tube.
He focused on numbers and tried to calm himself down. One old cannon, three rusty rivets . . . five men in diving suits . . .
WHAT?
He looked again. Sure enough, in the distance, he saw five figures approaching, swimming toward them and wearing suits of a similar design as his. Griffin stared, unable to believe what he was seeing, but quickly realized that these men were not out diving for recreation; they were obviously coming for them! His perceptive gaze instantly measured the size and strength of each enemy; the strange-looking, crossbow-styled weapons they carried; and who was leading the charge.
Griffin and his uncle were woefully outmatched. He fumbled at his waist for his pistol, ready to try using it in spite of being underwater. But because it had been strapped in tightly and his hands were so cold from the freezing water, Griffin couldnât unfasten the buttons that held it shut with his numb fingers.
As the enemy divers approached, Snodgrass swung out with the long spear. The nearest diver was caught off guard as a bright flash shot from its tip, sending a cascade of electricity into his body. Seeing his comrade so easily dispatched, the leader, a ferocious brute, motioned for his other divers to surround Snodgrass and stay clear of his weapon.
Griffin didnât know what to do. He wanted to help his uncle, but without the aid of his weapon, he felt completely helpless. He looked around, trying to find anything he could use to defend himself. Then he spotted a large rock on the river bottom. He dove down and scooped it up in his arms. The rock was big and slowed him down as he swam, but he was too panicked to notice. All he could think of was trying to rescue his uncle before the divers shot him with their underwater crossbows.
As he rushed forward, he couldnât help counting the bolts on the diversâ helmets, the barbs on their arrows, and the unusual patterns painted on the sides of their black suits. He raised the rock, intending to smash the large brass tank that clung to the nearest diverâs back. But just as he was about to bring the rock down, the diver turned, pointing his deadly arrow at Griffinâs chest.
Griffin had no choice but to drop the stone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it plunge down to the river bottom, and it seemed that as it went down, his hope went with it. He raised his hands above his head in surrender with only one thing on his mind, a single phrase that kept repeating itself over and over again. If Iâm about to die, then, Lord, please let it be quick!
20
THE SECRET LAIR
T hey were escorted to a crumbling canal entrance deep under the water. As they entered the tunnel, Griffin felt the air in his breathing tube shut off. Because the line could no longer reach the surface, there was no way for him to get any oxygen!
He tried not to panic, knowing that if he did, he would lose even more air. Instead, he focused on the growing light in front of them and swam toward it with long, purposeful strokes. They emerged in a large pool in an underground cavern. Snodgrass hastily undid the clamps that
When they drew near to the bottom of the river, the murkiness vanished and Griffin was able to see clearly through the helmetâs window. However, being at such depths and relying on a hastily constructed piece of machinery to keep him safe made Griffin feel very nervous. He couldnât help counting everything he saw. Three boulders, one old piece of pottery, two fishing lures, thirteen mussels . . .
He tried not to think about the long, delicate hose that was connected to his helmet, providing his only source of air from the surface. He forced himself not to worry about what would happen if the pump failed or a bird landed on the other end of his breathing tube.
He focused on numbers and tried to calm himself down. One old cannon, three rusty rivets . . . five men in diving suits . . .
WHAT?
He looked again. Sure enough, in the distance, he saw five figures approaching, swimming toward them and wearing suits of a similar design as his. Griffin stared, unable to believe what he was seeing, but quickly realized that these men were not out diving for recreation; they were obviously coming for them! His perceptive gaze instantly measured the size and strength of each enemy; the strange-looking, crossbow-styled weapons they carried; and who was leading the charge.
Griffin and his uncle were woefully outmatched. He fumbled at his waist for his pistol, ready to try using it in spite of being underwater. But because it had been strapped in tightly and his hands were so cold from the freezing water, Griffin couldnât unfasten the buttons that held it shut with his numb fingers.
As the enemy divers approached, Snodgrass swung out with the long spear. The nearest diver was caught off guard as a bright flash shot from its tip, sending a cascade of electricity into his body. Seeing his comrade so easily dispatched, the leader, a ferocious brute, motioned for his other divers to surround Snodgrass and stay clear of his weapon.
Griffin didnât know what to do. He wanted to help his uncle, but without the aid of his weapon, he felt completely helpless. He looked around, trying to find anything he could use to defend himself. Then he spotted a large rock on the river bottom. He dove down and scooped it up in his arms. The rock was big and slowed him down as he swam, but he was too panicked to notice. All he could think of was trying to rescue his uncle before the divers shot him with their underwater crossbows.
As he rushed forward, he couldnât help counting the bolts on the diversâ helmets, the barbs on their arrows, and the unusual patterns painted on the sides of their black suits. He raised the rock, intending to smash the large brass tank that clung to the nearest diverâs back. But just as he was about to bring the rock down, the diver turned, pointing his deadly arrow at Griffinâs chest.
Griffin had no choice but to drop the stone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it plunge down to the river bottom, and it seemed that as it went down, his hope went with it. He raised his hands above his head in surrender with only one thing on his mind, a single phrase that kept repeating itself over and over again. If Iâm about to die, then, Lord, please let it be quick!
20
THE SECRET LAIR
T hey were escorted to a crumbling canal entrance deep under the water. As they entered the tunnel, Griffin felt the air in his breathing tube shut off. Because the line could no longer reach the surface, there was no way for him to get any oxygen!
He tried not to panic, knowing that if he did, he would lose even more air. Instead, he focused on the growing light in front of them and swam toward it with long, purposeful strokes. They emerged in a large pool in an underground cavern. Snodgrass hastily undid the clamps that
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