When the first night of imprisonment passed, and it appeared from our watches--we had artificial light enough to see the time--that the dawn of a new day had come with no sign of release, some of the company threatened to chuck hope. But others of us put as bright a face on a black outlook as we could, and gave them such cheer as a waterless and breadless situation would allow. Of course, too, we had to remember that our air supply was running out. Speak of dropping sovereigns down a well! Every tick of my watch I knew was as a lost sovereign, so far as air was concerned. But those of us who were blessed with big batteries of optimism did our best to distribute the current, and so the time dragged on. Then a great thing happened. Two heroes came forward and offered to risk all in an attempt to win to the surface. All honor to them! How they did it and at what a cost may be told later on, but the thing was done, and the outer world was thus made aware of our terrible plight. That much we realized when we knew of the presence of divers about our craft. What a relief! We had been located, practical measures were being taken for our salvage, and that splendid prospect made us take in a draught of new life. Artificial light was fast failing, but hope was burning brightly, so what did it matter? Our ordeal, as it turned out, was but a young thing as yet, however. We had still a long way to go. The day dragged through, and when we entered on the silence and uncertainty of the night we were a forlorn enough lot, I can assure you. The nerve of the toughest of us was wearing thin. My fear that it might snap suddenly all round was not realized, however, for we were given further indications, which our practical ears were not slow to catch, that the great work of rescue was well in hand. The constant tapping of the divers outside was a cheering sound, and brought hope to those of us who, in the steadily increasing stifle of the atmosphere, were now breathing hard to live.