If he once got mazed in a place like that he might never taste daylight and upper air again.
Of the size of the chamber he could so far form no opinion.

He would have given much for a light.

His flint and steel were indeed in his pocket, but he was sodden through and through, and had no means whatever of catching a spark if he struck one.
Then, as he groped cautiously along past the third opening, his progress was stayed, and not by rock.
He was on his knees, his hands feeling blindly, but with infinite enquiry, along the rough rock wall, when he stumbled suddenly over something that lay along the ground.

Dropping his hands to save himself from falling, they lighted on that which lay below, and he started back with an exclamation and a shudder.

For what he had felt was like the hair and face of a man.
He crouched back against the wall, his heart thumping like a ship's pump, and the blood belling in his ears, and sat so for very many minutes; sat on, until, in that silent blackness, he could hear the dull, far-away thud of the waves on the outer walls of the island.
Then, by degrees, he pulled himself together.