The darkness was intense.

The sea, the sky, the land were all mingled in one black mass.

Not a speck of light was visible.
The reporter and his companions remained thus for a few minutes, overwhelmed by the wind, drenched by the rain, blinded by the sand.
Then, in a pause of the tumult, they again heard the barking, which they found must be at some distance.
It could only be Top! But was he alone or accompanied?
He was most probably alone, for, if Neb had been with him, he would have made his way more directly towards the Chimneys.

The sailor squeezed the reporter's hand, for he could not make himself heard, in a way which signified "Wait!" then he reentered the passage.
An instant after he issued with a lighted fagot, which he threw into the darkness, whistling shrilly.
It appeared as if this signal had been waited for; the barking immediately came nearer, and soon a dog bounded into the passage.
Pencroft, Herbert, and Spilett entered after him.
An armful of dry wood was thrown on the embers.

The passage was lighted up with a bright flame.
"It is Top!" cried Herbert.
It was indeed Top, a magnificent Anglo-Norman, who derived from these two races crossed the swiftness of foot and the acuteness of smell which are the preeminent qualities of coursing dogs.