We were talking about all these strange things that had happened, when suddenly we heard a commotion at the head of the column.  Running hastily forward, I saw Punchard and several of my men rushing at full speed across a tract of scrubby land in pursuit of Vetch.  He had persuaded the buccaneer beside him, whose hands had not been bound, to cut his bonds.

I joined in the chase; Cludde hung back; I think that after all he would not have been ill pleased, for old friendship’s sake, if Vetch had got away.  Vetch had had but a few yards’ start, but he was a swift runner, and I doubted much whether any of us could overtake him.  We could not bring him down with a shot, for my men, though their muskets were loaded, had not kindled their matches, so that before they could fire he was out of range.  Foremost of the pursuers was Joe, bounding along like a deer, furious (as he afterwards told me) because he regarded the escape as due to his own negligence.

We had raced on for maybe half a mile, and still had not lessened the distance between us and the fugitive, when I suddenly saw him sink above his ankles into the earth.  He uttered a terrible shriek; the man running beside me, who knew something of the country, cried out “A cockpit!” in accents of horror and stopped short.  But the agonizing cries of the poor wretch who was sinking inch by inch into the horrible hole whose treacherous surface had beguiled him were more than I could endure.  ’Twas not a death for the foulest villain on earth.  Heedless of the warning shouts of my crew, I dashed forward, hoping to reach Vetch in time to rescue him ere he was sucked under.

To venture directly on the spot where he was sinking would, I knew, be certain death to me.  But when I reached the edge of the cockpit I flung myself on my face, thinking with my outstretched arms to seize him.  He turned his head and saw me.  To this day I shudder as I see again the anguish, the mute imploring entreaty, that spoke out of his ghastly features.

I could not reach him.

I crawled forward, and my hands began to sink.  Joe Punchard behind was shouting to recall me.  Vetch was up to his shoulders.  Half my body was on solid ground, and with a prayer on my lips I was edging forward inch by inch to make one final effort, when I felt my feet held fast; I was hauled back with great violence, just as Vetch, with a scream that rang in my ears and ran through my dreams for weeks afterwards and haunts me still, disappeared forever.

Chapter 32:  I Become Bold.