Happily no one lost his life. The men retreated before the advancing wave, and as they went they met Brunel. But the great engineer could do nothing just then, except, like them, to retreat. The lights yet remaining flashed on the roaring water, and then suddenly went out in darkness. The foot of the staircase was reached, and it was found thronged with the retreating workers. Higher and higher grew the surging flood; Brunel ordered great speed; and scarcely were the men’s feet off the lower stair when it was torn away. On gaining the top, cries were heard; some calling for a rope, others for a boat. Some one was below in the water! Brunel himself slipped down an iron rod, another followed, and each fastening a rope to the body of a man they found in the flood, he was soon drawn out of danger. On calling the roll, every worker answered to his name. No life was lost. So far, good; but what was to be done now? The tunnel was full of water. To pump it dry was impossible, for the tide poured in from the Thames. Again the diving-bell was used, and the hole was found in the bed of the river. To stop it bags of clay, with hazel sticks, were employed; and so difficult was the task that three thousand bags were utilised in the process, and more than a month elapsed before the water was subdued. Two months more passed before the earth washed in was removed, and Brunel could examine the work. He found it for the most part quite sound, though near the shield it had been shorn of half its thickness of bricks. The chain of the shield was snapped in twain, and irons belonging to the same apparatus had been forced into the earth. The men now proceeded with their task, and exhibited a cool courage deserving of all praise. Earth and water frequently fell; foul gases pervaded the stifling air, and sometimes exploded, or catching fire, they would now and again dance over the water; and again and again labourers would be carried away insensible from the poisonous atmosphere. Complaints, such as skin eruptions, sickness, and headaches, were common. Yet, in spite of every difficulty, the men worked on in that damp and dripping and fœtid mine, haunted ever with the dread of another flood. And it came. On the 12th of August, 1828, some fifteen months after the previous disaster, the ground bulged out, a large quantity fell, and a violent rush of water followed; one man being washed out of his cell to the wooden staging behind. [Illustration: THE THAMES TUNNEL.]