Adam wrote:"That's the plan, signore," Alfonse says. He eagerly urges the gondola along.
It's a snug fit, but the party can all sit or squat in the gondola, even with the several boxes and coffers packed in it. Fild lies on a crate, unconscious.
Sixt propels the craft forward with powerful, measured beats of the staff against the tunnel's submerged floor.
The gondola glides down the underground canal, just brushing the stone ledges on either side at times, unimpeded and with slowly growing speed.
Savelle lolls in the boat. rubbing his head.
"Don't worry for my sake", he whispers. "That tainted wine is coming back to haunt me."
The party passes under two grated covers, widely separated, but the sounds of hooves, boots, and shouting from above suggest a patrol, or a fight...
The side passages, also flooded, that the party goes by are much too small for the boat, even if it could be steered into one of them.
''For the fields'' the Builder says to no one in particular.
After a few minutes, the party hears an echoing tumult in the
passage behind the gondola, men shouting, splashing, the rattle of harness. Torches or lanterns glow back that way, the way Aldron had fled.
Gertie murmurs a curse.
The man from 'The Builders Guild' casts nervous glances over the gondola's wake.
But Sixt and Titus take turns pushing, and soon the lights and noises fall away.
Another few minutes of passage in the dim tunnel, lit only by the guttering whale-oil lantern at the prow, and then a soft light appears ahead. A little further, and a stone arch comes into view, with houses rising above and beyond it. The gondola's bottom scrapes against stone.
Richard Savelle says, "Oh! This must be the water supply into Fishtown. Be careful, friends. I recall hearing Aldron--my captor-- saying something about a rendezvous. But I'm not sure if it was here, out in the bay, or what. I only just recalled now. I was drugged, so things were hazy."
Titus bends over the gnome holding something small. Whatever it is, it stinks. He moves it under Fild's nose.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)