Story 1--Chapter XXII.
A Submarine Excursion.
To those on deck the sight was curious in the extreme, for, foreshortened by the clear medium through which they gazed, the diver seemed like some hideous water-goblin, with an enormous head, creeping about on the yellow sand.
But interesting as it was to those on deck, it was perhaps more so to Dutch, who, as soon as he had assumed his helmet and began to descend, threw off all thought of his domestic troubles by a strong effort of his will, and, feeling that the success or ill-success of the expedition depended upon him, he set to work eagerly to solve the question of the treasure. He had been down too many times to feel nervous, but, all the same, an unwonted tremor, which he ascribed to disease, oppressed him as he slowly went down from round to round; but as he reached the bottom this also passed off, and finding that he was well supplied with air, and that all worked well, he began to consider how he should act. This confidence arose in a great measure from the knowledge that both Mr Parkley and old Rasp were watching over his safety, and feeling that his knife could be easily drawn from his belt, he began to look about him.
All was beautifully clear; and though the motion of his heavy boots stirred up the sand, it sank down again directly without thickening the water. A few yards away was the ladder, and above it, with the air-tube and two ropes plainly seen running up, was the schooner, casting a dark shadow on to the bottom. Even his own shadow was cast behind him, and it seemed as if he were only walking in a medium of thickened air. He could even make out the faces of those gazing over the side, but in a blurred, distorted way, for the bright bubbles of air that ran up in a stream made the water seem heavy overhead, though all around it was clearness itself.
His first thoughts were naturally of the sharks, but he could see nothing to fear, though he had made up his mind if one should attack him to take advantage of its sluggish action, and, instead of trying to escape, thrust boldly at the monster with his knife.
As he was looking about there was a flash of many colours through the water, and then it seemed as if the gold and silver ingots he had come in search of had become animated, for a shoal of fish, whose scales were burnished metal in appearance, suddenly darted about him, coming close up to his helmet as he remained stationary, as if in wonder at his appearance; but on his raising his arm there was a rush, the water quivered for a moment, and, like streaks of the rich metals he sought, they disappeared.
So beautiful was the scene around him—the soft sunshine, the delicious tint of the water, and the long vistas in the distance of wondrous sea growths, which ran up six, twelve, and fourteen feet towards the surface, all aglow with the most lovely tints—that the desire was strong upon him to walk on beyond the portion of the bottom that had been swept by the dynamite, and gaze upon the various natural objects around. But he had sterner work on hand, and set himself to investigate the appearance of the old hull, in whose interior he was.
For he found now that what had seemed short stumps of blackened wood were some of them six or eight feet high; and that while the upper portions were encrusted with grey shelly matter, the lower were of an intense black, and these had evidently been forcibly denuded by the sweeping away of the sand.
As he moved forward, he gave a twitch or two at the life-line to signal all well; and then had to make the signal that he required more air. An increased supply of the life-giving stream was forced down directly, and, raising his spade, he began to investigate the place more closely. In an instant the bottom seemed to have become alive, for curious flat-fish, whose sides assimilated so strangely to the sand, in which they lay half buried, rose at every step, making little clouds, and going off with a peculiar undulating motion to settle down again, flick the sand and tiny stones over their sides by a peculiar motion of their broad fins, and the next minute they had become invisible.
As to the wreck, there was not much to see beyond the rows of rib timbers on either hand, while where he stood was there nothing but sand, which covered the whole of the interior, though now, probably through the explosions, it was in hillocks, with their accompanying depressions.
Knowing that those above must be anxiously watching, he thrust the spade down into the bottom and began to dig slowly and with great excitement, to find that the tool penetrated easily through; and as he raised the sand, and placed it on one side, it softly flowed back again.
“I ought to have brought an iron rod to probe with,” he thought to himself, as he gave the spade another thrust down, to find that nothing obstructed him, when he became aware of a dull shock, and he was thrown down, for the water seemed to rush by him with considerable violence.
The next moment there was a violent pull at the life-line, and he was raised from his feet in a most uncomfortable position; and, but for a sudden snatch at his signal-cord to signify “All right,” one which he repeated again and again, he would have been drawn to the surface.
In obedience to his signals, the rope was slackened, but he had hardly recovered himself when it was tightened once more, and but for his vigorous snatch to show that he wanted no assistance, those on the schooner’s deck would have drawn him to the surface. He knew well enough now what was the meaning of the shock, and felt how necessary it was for a diver to be full of the calm nerve and courage of a man ready to battle with difficulties, for his safety depended entirely upon his taking the dangers he encountered in the coolest manner.
The conclusion was evidently due to the firing of a dynamite cartridge, but, in spite of this, here was the reason for their trying to drag him to the surface, in the shape of something dim and large approaching him slowly, and apparently without effort. As he saw it at first coming end on, it seemed to him like some very short, thick fish, but as it neared him, and grew more distinct, it swerved off to his right, and his heart beat fast as he saw from its altered position that it was a shark seven or eight feet long.
He signalled again, “More air—all right,” and the tightening life-rope slackened as he drew the long, keen-bladed knife from its wooden sheath.
It was a terrible weapon, with a fine point, and about eighteen inches long beyond the handle, while its two edges were ground as sharp as a razor. Armed with this he awaited the coming of the shark, feeling that to it he must prove as he looked, a monster as deadly in his power. For Dutch agreed that to leave the field on this first encounter with one of the creatures that infested these waters was to confess to himself that he was beaten, and morally to consent to a defeat of their project, while could he nerve himself to boldly meet the attack, and so disable his enemy by skilful tactics as to kill it, or compel its retreat, he would give himself so much confidence, and Rasp as well, that they would in the future have little compunction in descending, and scarcely any fear of their dangerous enemies.
“If I fail,” he said to himself bitterly; “well, it is a horrible death, but why should I mind dying? I have nothing to live for now.”
“Bah! Dying,” he went on, mastering his trepidation, and feeling a savage energy of will. “I, a man with reasoning powers, with ingenuity enough to help to invent the apparatus by which I can stay down here and meet this creature with arms in my hand in his own element. Pooh! it is absurd. I shall—I will kill it.”
He had plenty of time to think, and he had once more to impatiently signal “All right,” for he became aware of a tightening of the life-line, while the shark, with its curious, crafty look, undulated by him, its long, unequally-lobed tail waving softly as it nearly passed him with the greatest apparent ease, turned, sailed back some little distance, and then turned once more as if to pass him on the other side.
“That is where he has the advantage,” thought Dutch, as he saw the ease with which the creature glided along, on about a level with the top of his helmet, and knew for his own part what an effort it needed for him to move through the water.
He felt very little alarm now in the excitement of these moments, and as he watched the shark’s manoeuvres he grew more and more determined to make this the test of the future. He had often read of how the South Sea Islanders made no scruple about bathing where there were sharks, and how ready they were to attack them in their own element, while protected as he was on head, back, neck, and breast, by his copper armour and weights, he felt that it would be cowardly to retreat.
“Poor thing! I hope she cannot see me now,” he muttered, as for a fleeting moment his thoughts reverted to Hester. Then, with set teeth and knit brows, he waited the coming of the shark, feeling that his one most vulnerable point was the air-tube, and dreading lest the creature should make a snap at that in passing. For either that or the continuous stream of bright air bubbles had evidently excited its attention, and for a few moments it swam up eight or ten feet, giving Dutch a good view of its white under-portions, and the great gash of a mouth that seemed as if formed by one cut of a large knife.
The creature came down again, though, directly, in the most leisurely way gazing full now at the helmet, and, poising itself almost motionless in the water, it remained gazing straight at him while Dutch awaited the attack.
This was not long in coming, for the shark, after altering its position once or twice, and descending to about the level of the young man’s shoulders, made a forward movement, but with no great rapidity, and Dutch gave a sharp signal once more, to ensure liberty of action before the shark, as it came gliding through the clear water as if to seize his left arm, rolled softly over on its side, opened its great jaws, which glistened with saw-like teeth, and was in the act of closing them, when, with a thrust like lightning, Dutch buried his knife to the haft between the monster’s pectoral fins, which offered a fair mark, dragged it out, and prepared to strike again.
As the blade entered its yielding body the shark gave a spasmodic jerk and shot straight up, with the water becoming tinged with a ruddy hue, but, turning, it darted down once more, leaving a red trail behind it, and again made to attack.
There was a sudden tightening of the life-line, but Dutch met it with the signal, “All right,” just before the shark once more approached, turned over to seize him, and again received the full length of the blade, while as the monster darted forward and dragged itself free it was at the expense of so fearful a gash that a cloud of blood darkened the water, the shark struggled feebly for a few minutes, and then floated, belly up, to the surface.
Dutch gave his knife a wave or two through the water to remove the blood, replaced it in his belt, and stood gazing up at the ruddy cloud above his head for a few moments, gave a signal or two with the rope such as would show them on deck that he was unhurt, and, stooping down, once more took his spade to try the sand.
It was with a strange feeling of elation that he resumed his task, knowing now, as he did, that by the exercise of ordinary courage a man might readily defend himself from any of these monsters. In fact, so far from feeling alarm now, he was ready to encounter another whenever it might appear; but now the only one in sight was the creature floating far above his head, and more distinctly seen each moment, for the ruddy cloud was becoming rapidly diffused, and the outline of the schooner’s hull and the ladder, which had seemed misty and dull, were now well defined and plain to see.
Dutch now began to feel that he must soon ascend once more, but not wishing to do so without making some discovery, he thrust down the spade here and there, in all directions, but encountered nothing. It was evident that if the treasure existed, it must be far below the sand that had gone on accumulating for centuries.
There was one place, though, that he had not tried, and that was the depression scooped out by the dynamite, a spot which he had reserved to the last. Wading here, then, a task which necessitated his passing right under the schooner and farther from the ladder than he had yet been, he began to examine the surface, and detecting nothing, he thrust down his spade, working it about so as to make it penetrate farther and farther, but still there was no resistance, and, faint and weary, he was about to give up when he thought he would try once more.
This he did, thrusting in the spade and forcing it down till his hand was nearly on a level with the sand, and then—Yes! No! Yes! there was a slight obstruction.
He forced it down again, his heart beating painfully the while, for here was the test.
It might be only a copper bolt in the rotten old wood, or a stone; he might have reached the rock below the sand, but a second thought told him that the keel must be eight or ten feet lower, and that the touch was not that of stone or rock. Neither could it be wood. It was either a metal bolt or that of which he was in search.
Dutch forgot now all about the necessity for ascending; his sole thought was the sunken treasure, and, working as vigorously as he could in his cumbersome garments, he shovelled out the sand, though it was a slow and laborious task, as it kept running back into the hole he made.
Still he dug down more and more till he had made a fair-sized excavation, when, once more thrusting in the spade, he found it checked against something, and his heart sank as he fancied that he might have struck upon a bed of old shells. Still he persevered, not that he expected to lift that which he touched, but in the hope that he might reach it more easily, and satisfy himself that he was touching metal.
He was getting quite exhausted, and had already been down far too long. Nothing but the strong desire to have something definite to say kept him toiling on, and at last he unwillingly gave up, when something dark amongst the sand he had thrown out took his attention, and reaching down he picked up a lump of shells concreted together, and with an impatient gesture he was about to throw them down again, when it struck him that they were uncommonly heavy. To an inexperienced man this would have passed unnoticed, for the difficulty of telling the difference of weight in so dense a medium as the water was not one easily mastered, but Dutch had been down too many times not to have a good idea of such matters, and, checking himself just as he was about to throw the mass down, he raised it to the front of his helmet.
Shells, shells, nothing but shells of several kinds joined together by the calcareous deposit of some kind of sea worm; but, all the same, it was very heavy, and, wrong or right, determining to take the lump up with him, he turned to go under the schooner and reach the ladder.
For, he argued, those little ingots the Cuban had shown them had shelly accretion firmly attached, and it was probable that a good deal had been knocked off. At all events, he must ascend now, and going slowly along, placing the piece of concrete in a net pouch at his back, he was in the shadow of the schooner with its keel nearly above his head, when a peculiar sensation that he knew too well suddenly attacked him. His head began to swim, blood seemed to gorge the vessels of his eyes, and a horrible sensation of oppression to attack his chest.
Already exhausted by his too long stay and extra exertion, combined with the nervous excitement of his fight with the shark, he was not master of himself, and in spite of his old experience he literally lost his head, becoming so unnerved that he sank down upon his knees, forgetting his signal-line, and tugging at the helmet to get it from his head.
One drag at that thin cord should have been sufficient to secure help, but it was forgotten, even though he touched it with his hands as they went to his helmet, and to make matters worse, he was kneeling now out of sight of those on deck; and for the moment all seemed over. He was blind, for a thick darkness had, as it were, come over him, mentally and bodily, in the intense horror of the moment, but through that darkness flashed scene after scene of the past, and he saw Hester, looking young and beautiful, gazing pityingly down at him, but without stretching out a hand to save, while, with a smile of triumph upon his countenance, there stood Lauré, the bane of his existence. Then came pleasant thoughts of his old childish days, mingled with a dull sense of drowsiness that it was impossible to fight against, and then a reaction, as Dutch made a violent effort to reach his feet, but only to sink down prone upon his face.
For though, like some gigantic sea worm, the india-rubber tube meandered over the sand, out of the shadow of the schooner into the sunshine, and then straight up towards the surface, the supply of air had stopped!
Story 1--Chapter XXIII.
A Crafty Foe.
It was with a feeling of intense agony that Hester Pugh watched her husband as he stepped on to the ladder and gradually descended below the surface of the water, and then with beating heart she altered her position, going beyond the others and leaning over the bulwark, so that she could peer down into the clear water and follow his every motion.
It would have been painful enough if they had parted lovingly, but, with the knowledge that his doubts had been strengthened by her refusal to explain, her position was doubly painful. In bygone days, before their marriage, Dutch had been one of the most successful and daring of divers, more from choice than necessity; but of late he had devoted himself to drawing and making plans at her desire, though his old love of submarine adventure was strong within him still; and now it almost seemed as if his resumption of his old pursuit had been caused by hatred of her.
For the time being all thought of the hidden peril to which those on board were exposed was swallowed up in the present danger, and, not noticing who was her nearest neighbour, she watched the progress of her husband with the great drops of anguish starting to her forehead. Every movement he made was plainly to be seen by all on board, and when Mr Meldon first raised the cry of “Shark!” so intense was the interest in the proceedings that no one paid the slightest heed to her. Thus it was that, in a state that made her ask herself sometimes whether this was not some wild dream, she saw the bustle on deck accompanying Mr Parkley’s efforts to drive off the unwelcome visitors, of which there were two. A cartridge was thrown, and exploded close to one of them, with the result that it seemed to sink to the bottom, for they saw it no more, while, when the other was seen to be making straight for the diver, the cry arose that he should be drawn up, and under Rasp’s direction the men were starting the life-line with a run, when—
“Hold hard!” cried Rasp, “he’s a signalling ‘All right.’”
“But it is madness,” cried Mr Parkley and the captain in a breath.
“He’s a signalling ‘All right,’” cried Rasp sternly. “You should never touch a diver when he does that. See there.”
Rasp quickly pulled the line, so as to tighten it, when the impatient jerk at the signal-cord came again.
“Can you see exactly what is going on, Mr Meldon?” said the captain.
“Yes, quite plainly,” was the reply, “he has his knife out, and is going to fight the shark.”
Hester had already seen this, and had shrunk aside, covering her eyes with her hands, fearing to listen to the conversation that ensued as Mr Meldon described in vivid words what we already know. She heard, too, the various impatient suggestions that Dutch should be drawn up, and in an agony of supplication she prayed that this might take place, but always, till she felt that she hated him with an intensity of dislike, she heard Rasp’s harsh voice dominating the others as, with the sense of responsibility that he had a diver’s life in his hands, he absolutely refused. He was lord of the proceedings, having been invested by Dutch with his duties, and he maintained his position after nearly yielding two or three times and tightening the life-line.
“There, you may say what you like,” he growled, “I know my dooty, and I’m a-doing on it. You should never meddle with a man as is down till he asks for help—go on with that pumping, my lads, keep it up,” he said, interrupting his didactic remarks to admonish the sailors at the air-pump—“’cause if you do, you means well p’raps, but you only flurries the man, and that’s the very thing as you oughtn’t to do. Do you know what would make the best divers, Oakum?”
“No,” growled that worthy.
“Cowcumbers, ’cause they’re so cool. Now, lookye here everybody, he’s going on as right as can be. Mr Dutch keeps on giving the signal ‘All right,’ so why should we interfere. I’m master o’ this descent, and he shan’t be interfered with.”
“But, you madman, there’s a huge shark just going to dash at him,” cried Mr Meldon excitedly.
“Then I’m very sorry for the shark,” said Rasp coolly. “Lor’ bless you, Mr Dutch is too much for any shark as can swim. Madman, eh, Mr Doctor. What would you say to me if I called you a madman for not letting me interfere when you’d got your patient a-going on all right, and just because I thought he was in danger? My patient’s a-going on all right. There, he says so himself,” he continued, as the customary signal passed along the line.
“Rasp is quite right,” said Mr Parkley, who stood there with a cartridge in one hand, the wire in the other, and the battery between his feet. “A diver should never be interfered with.”
“There, hear that?” said Rasp, watching the tube where it descended into the water.
“But look! Good heavens, it is horrible!” cried the doctor.
Hester’s hands dropped from her face, and she gazed down now to see a thick cloud of blood rising through the water, shutting out the figure of him she loved, and white as ashes, with eyes starting, and parted lips, but without uttering a word, she gazed on.
“Well, what o’ that?” said Rasp coolly, as he held the signal-line delicately in his hand, drawing in and slackening out like a man feeling with a ground line. “He’s as right as a trivet, and I’ve felt him all along with the line here, and he’s give the shark such a one-er. I felt him let go at it.”
“I’m afraid it is his own blood,” exclaimed Mr Wilson.
“For heaven’s sake be silent, Wilson!” cried Mr Parkley. “There, you’ve made Miss Studwick faint.”
In fact Bessy, standing by her brother’s side as he watched the whole of the proceedings, had sunk down softly on the deck; but when the doctor turned to her help, John Studwick angrily repelled him.
“It was your horrible talk began it, and that long fool’s finished the work,” exclaimed John Studwick. “Now, go back and see the shark killed. I can attend to my sister. Send for some cold water, father,” he added, as the captain came up.
But it was needless, for Bessy was recovering fast, and after looking wildly about for a few moments she sat up by her brother, and held his hand with her back turned to the group on deck.
“Bah!” ejaculated Rasp, coolly. “There, keep clear o’ that chube,” he shouted. “It’s shark’s blood, that’s what it is, and you’ll see him turn up by-and-by. Here he comes; no he ain’t turned up yet. Now he’s going down again. There,” he cried directly after, as the line glided softly through his hand. “Mr Dutch has given him another. Look at the cloud rising again, and—ha, ha, ha! What did I tell you?”
As he spoke Hester saw the form of the shark rising slowly through the ruddy cloud till its white belly gleamed in the sunshine, and Rasp pointed out with delight the two great gashes through which its life blood was passing out, while the monster made a few ineffectual struggles to recover itself, and then floated slowly to leeward.
“There ain’t many about here just now,” said Rasp, “or else that blood would have brought ’em round. Ha! there won’t be much of him left by to-morrow morning. Serve him right for interfering with divers.”
Hester’s eyes closed again for a few moments as her heart went up in grateful thanksgiving. Then she was watching the gradually clearing water till she could see her husband once again, and as she saw him moving it was with a feeling of hope that he would come up now.
But as we know he passed right under the schooner, and there were more spectators crossed over to the other side to watch his efforts, while she, faint and exhausted with her emotions, sat down on a coil of rope, gazing at the tube that passed close by her, Rasp having set a goodly length free as soon as he found that Dutch was on the move, and she had seen this long snake-like pipe creep out well over the side as the diver went farther and farther away, knowing that it was the bond which held him to life, and feeling with a kind of fascination that she could not explain that it was now her duty to watch the tube and see that it was not touched.
As she felt this, she raised her eyes for a moment, to see that Rasp was standing with his back to her and that she was alone, for all were now intent upon the diver’s actions, and commenting upon his work.
“He’s found out the place,” said one. “He’s got something—no he hasn’t,” and so on.
Just then Hester Pugh became aware of some one standing close by her, and turning her eyes it was to find that Lauré had crossed unnoticed to her side, where he stood as if looking over the bulwarks for sharks, but really all the time with his eyes fixed upon and fascinating hers, while to her horror she saw that one of his bare feet kept touching the tube.
“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity,” he said at last in a low whisper. “You tried to betray me this morning.”
“No, no,” she moaned, as the wretch placed his foot upon the tube, smiling at her the while.
“You will betray me in spite of my warning,” he continued in the same low tone; “and for this, because I will not have my plans spoiled, and partly because I hate Dutch Pugh and love you, my child, I am going to press my foot down upon this tube. Hark! dare to raise your voice in the least,” he whispered fiercely, as he saw her white lips part, “and it is his instant death. Do you understand? If I stop the flow of air for only a few seconds, he will be so startled that he will not recover himself, while if I double the time it will make assurance doubly sure, as you English people say. Swear now to me, by all that is holy, by all your future hopes, that you will not betray me.”
“Heaven give me strength, I cannot,” panted Hester.
“My foot is pressing the tube,” he hissed. “But there I know, sweet love, that you wish him dead, that there may be no hindrance to our passion.”
“Monster!” she cried.
“Hush!” he whispered. “Will you swear?”
“Yes, yes,” she panted.
“That you will neither by word nor deed betray me.”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I swear.”
“Thanks, dear one,” he whispered. “It is but for a few days. Mind, they have found one of my treasure stores; they shall work for me—for us—in ignorance, and bring it all to the surface. For us, Hester. You need not turn away; I read your heart, and that you will love me as I love you soon, and you shall revel in wealth like an Eastern princess. But now you must swear more; I cannot wait. I will not have those loathing looks and angry eyes directed at me. You shall swear that you will be mine when and where I ask it of you, or—”
“Are you some fiend?” exclaimed Hester with a look of horror as she saw his foot pressing the tube.
“No,” he whispered passionately, “only a man whom you have driven nearly mad with your beauty, and who can and will suffer no more. Have you not always been cold and rejected me, even in spite of my prayers? Now I am driven to extremities. Swear that you will be mine, or Dutch Pugh dies beneath your feet.”
“I cannot—will not,” she faltered, with her senses reeling.
“Cannot! Will not! You must and shall. You know that I have but to keep my foot firmly pressed down for a few moments, and he becomes senseless. And what then? Who in the confusion will know that it was I? Swear it to me, girl, this moment. Hester, I implore, as well as command. Have I not told you my love? Listen to me. Have I not followed you here—done everything for your sake?”
“I will not swear,” exclaimed Hester in low, panting tones, and then she uttered a faint cry, which was checked on the instant, as with a look of passionate rage that he could not control she saw Lauré flatten the tube, and knew that it was to her husband’s death.
“Will you swear now?” he whispered. “He is dying. Will you not save him?”
“I cannot, I cannot,” she panted. “Oh, it is too horrible. Dutch, my love, it is for your sake. I swear.”
“That you are mine?”
“Yes, yes,” she whispered; and she swooned away, while Lauré removed his foot from the tube.
Story 1--Chapter XXIV.
Rasp’s Adventure.
“Quick, my lads, with a will,” shouted Rasp. “Haul! Run him up.”
For the old diver had suddenly awakened to the fact that something was wrong below, and at his command the men holding the life-line ran forward along the deck, drawing Dutch rapidly to the surface, where half-a-dozen willing hands, the Cuban’s among them, seized him and laid him on the deck, where Rasp rapidly unscrewed the helmet and exposed the young man’s face, blue and distorted with strangulation.
“Quick! some more of these things off,” exclaimed Mr Meldon.
“You let him alone,” growled Rasp. “I’ll bring him to in a jiffy;” and, rudely elbowing the doctor aside, he seized Dutch’s arms, pumped them up and down a few times, and then forcibly pressing on his breast produced a kind of artificial respiration, for at the end of a minute Dutch sighed, and then rapidly began to recover.
As he commenced breathing more regularly, those surrounding became aware that Hester was trying to get to his side, for, unnoticed in the excitement, she had recovered her senses, and then, pale and sick at heart, crept to the group, where she dreaded to look upon the form of him she loved lying dead.
A look of joy, succeeded by one of intense despair, crossed her face as she knelt down by Dutch’s head, waiting to see his eyes open and to hear his words, as she shudderingly recalled the promise she had made to save his life.
She was so behind him that he did not see her, when at last he opened his eyes, and gazed wildly about him as if not comprehending where he was, and directly after he placed his hands to his face as if to feel the helmet.
His eyes opened more widely then, and Rasp held the cup of a brandy flask to his lips.
“Take a sup o’ this here, Mr Pug,” he said in his rough way.
Dutch obeyed without a word, and his face began to resume its natural aspect.
“That was a near touch, Mr Dutch, sir,” growled the old fellow. “You would stop down too long.”
“Too long?” said Dutch faintly, as he tried to sit up.
“No, no, be still for a few minutes,” said the doctor, who had been pushing up the india-rubber bands of his sleeve, and feeling the sufferer’s pulse, to Rasp’s great disgust.
“Who said I stopped down too long?” said Dutch faintly, as Hester crouched at his head, with her hands to her face.
“I did,” growled Rasp. “You shouldn’t have overdone it the first time.”
“I did not stay down too long,” said Dutch angrily, but in rather a feeble way. “The supply of air was stepped.”
“What!” cried Rasp, fiercely.
“I say the wind was stopped.”
“Hark at him,” cried Rasp, looking round from one to the other. “Hark at that, Mister Parkley, and you, too, captain. Why, I sooperintended it all myself, and the supply never stopped for a moment.”
Hester shuddered.
“Here he goes and overdoes it, gets fightin’ sharks, and stopping down about twiced as long as he should the first time, and then says the pumping was checked.”
“You must have got the tube kinked,” said Dutch, sitting up. “Take off these weights.”
“You must, you mean,” said Rasp, unhooking the leaden pads from breast and back; and while he was so engaged Hester looked wildly round in a desperate resolve to tell all, but her eyes dropped directly as she shuddered, for just at her husband’s feet stood Lauré, and she felt that she dare not tell the secret that seemed to be driving her mad.
“Here you goes right under the schooner, and must have hitched the chube in the ladder; that’s what you must have done.”
“There, it’s of no use to argue with you, Rasp,” said Dutch. “I’m all right again now, thank you, doctor; but I’m sure of one thing: the supply of air was stopped somehow, and I’ve had a bit of a shaking.”
“And I’m sure it just wasn’t,” growled Rasp. “Everything went just as it should go. There!”
Dutch rose without assistance, and as he did so Hester, with a sigh of misery, shrank away, feeling that she could never look upon his face again.
“But I have saved his life,” she sighed to herself. “I have saved his life;” and then, shuddering with horror, and asking herself whether the time had not come when she had better die, she crept slowly to the cabin stairs, descended, and, sinking into a chair by her cot, sat there and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Dutch smiled with pleasure as he stood up and found that he could take a few steps here and there without feeling his brain reel, for Oakum took off his old straw hat, waved it round his head, and the men gave a hearty cheer.
“It weer too bad o’ you though to stop his wind Rasp, owd mate,” growled Oakum, in the old diver’s ear.
Rasp looked daggers at him, and then proceeded to wipe and polish the helmet, from which he had been removing some grains of sand.
“Have a cigar, Mr Pugh,” said Wilson, holding out his case, and then shaking hands, an example followed by Mr Parkley, the captain, and John Studwick, who stood looking at him with admiration.
“I have done nothing but shake your hands for the last ten minutes, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor, warmly, “but we may as well shake hands again, though really our old friend Rasp here, with his rough-and-ready means, was principal attendant.”
“Humph!” growled Rasp, “I do get the credit for that, then. Stopped the wind, indeed! Here, you nigger, just leave that pump alone.”
This last to ’Pollo, who was curiously inspecting the machine, and who strutted off with his opal eyes rolling and his teeth grinning indignation at being called a nigger.
“Well, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, who so far had been able to restrain his impatience, but who longed to hear the result of the investigation, “I must congratulate you on your brave encounter with the shark.”
“And wanted me to haul you up,” growled Rasp.
“There was not much bravery in it,” said Dutch, who was now smoking as composedly as if nothing had occurred, while the water that had streamed from his india-rubber suit was fast drying on the sun-baked deck. “I was well-armed; my enemy was not.”
“Wasn’t he?” growled Rasp, giving a vicious rub at the helmet. “What do you call them teeth? But, then, we divers are not skeered about a shark or two.”
“Do you feel well enough to talk about your descent, Pugh?” said Mr Parkley.
“I feel well enough to go down again,” said Dutch smiling; “but this time I must have a sharp-pointed iron rod to probe the sand.”
“I’m a-going down next,” said Rasp. “It’s my turn.”
“But what is your opinion? What have you made out?” said Mr Parkley.
“Almost nothing,” replied Dutch. “If there is anything below there, it is buried deep in sand, which, I think, we must blast away, for it runs back as fast as it is dug.”
“Then you found absolutely nothing,” said Mr Parkley, while the others waited eagerly for the young man’s answer.
“Unless this proves to be something,” replied Dutch, taking the shelly mass from his net basket and handing it to his partner.
Mr Parkley received it with trembling hands.
“It is heavy,” he said, turning it over and over. “Here Rasp, a hammer, quick.”
The old fellow handed a bright steel-headed tool, with the ordinary hammer head on one side, but a sharp wedge-shaped edge at the other, and with this Mr Parkley chipped away the small barnacles and other shells conglomerated together, and at about the fourth stroke laid bare something bright and shining.
“My dear Dutch,” cried his partner, dropping the hammer, “we are right. Look—silver!”
He wrung Dutch’s hand vigorously, as the young man’s face flushed with pleasure; and then, picking up the hammer, he struck off the remainder of the shelly concretion, and passed round a blackened wedge-shaped ingot of about a couple of pounds weight, and undoubtedly of fine silver.
“Here, lay hold of the legs of this soot,” cried Rasp eagerly, as he seized the second suit which lay ready on a seat. “I’m a-going down dreckly.”
“We’d better wait first, and make some definite plan of action,” said Mr Parkley, who was nearly as excited as his old assistant.
“No, we hadn’t,” said Rasp, shuffling into the india-rubber garments. “Only just have that there ladder shifted over to port. You can make your plans while I go down tother side and feels about with the iron rod. You two’s administrative; I’m zeketive. I shan’t be happy unless I has a go in.”
The point was yielded, the ladder shifted over to the other side, and in a few minutes Rasp had taken the keen knife and stuck it in his belt, thrown down a long iron rod, and declared himself ready.
“I shall set to work where you left that there spade,” he said. “You’ll see as the wind ain’t stopped, Mr Parkley, sir?”
“Of course,” was the reply.
“And you’ll see as the chube ain’t in no kinks, Mr Pug;” he continued, with a dry chuckling laugh, “and so will I.”
“You may laugh, Rasp,” said Dutch, good-humouredly, “but you will not alter my opinion about it at all.”
“I know that, Mr Pug; I know that,” he chuckled.
“But you haven’t got the life-line attached.”
“Yah! I don’t want no life-lines,” said the old fellow. “I’ve been down too many times.”
“You don’t go down without, Rasp,” said Mr Parkley, authoritatively.
“And why not?” said the stubborn old fellow.
“Because if you like to throw your life away, I don’t choose to spare you at such a time.”
The old fellow assumed his helmet, growling and grumbling the whole time, and then, all being ready, the look-out was arranged once more for sharks, Mr Parkley held a cartridge or two ready, and Dutch took the management of the descent, watchfully minding that the tube and lines were clear. Then Rasp went down, to be seen directly after thrusting the rod here and there, and soon after commencing digging in the slow, laborious way inevitable in so dense a medium.
The water was disturbed by the continuous fountain of exhausted air bubbles that rose rapidly to the surface, but all the same Rasp’s motions could be pretty well followed, and they were scanned with great eagerness by all on deck, when suddenly the cry of sharks was raised, and the black fins of a couple of monsters were seen slowly coming up astern.
In an instant Mr Parkley ran aft, and after seeing that his wire coil would be perfectly free, he threw the cartridge with such precision that it fell between the two fish, and on the wire being applied to the battery, there was a dull report, a heavy column of water flew up in which could be seen the forms of the sharks, and as the commotion subsided they were seen swimming feebly in a stunned, helpless manner round and round, and gradually getting more distant from the schooner.
The men gave a cheer at the result, but as they did so Mr Wilson raised the cry again of “shark,” and pointed downwards where a monster was seen slowly approaching Rasp, who was working away in profound ignorance of his danger, though he had been seen to straighten himself up for a moment or two when the cartridges were exploded.
“Stand ready with the life-line,” shouted Dutch. “Keep on pumping, my lads.”
As he spoke he signalled with the cord, and Rasp faced round, to be seen to squat down directly as he drew his knife.
The scene below was very vivid, for the sun shone out so brightly that even the rivets in the copper helmet were visible, and but for a word or two of warning those whose duty it was to attend to life-line and pump would have stopped short to try and catch a glance at what was going on below.
Dutch’s stern voice brought them back to their duty, and the pump clanked, and those who held the life-line stood ready for a run forward to drag Rasp up if there was any need.
“Why,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly, “he is not ready for the monster, and it is sailing round him. I dare not send down a cartridge, as the brute will not be the only sufferer. Look, look, for heaven’s sake, Dutch! It has seized him.”
Plainly enough to be seen, as Mr Parkley spoke, the shark gave its tail a wave, turned over so that its white breast was like a flash of light in the water, and opening its large jaws it seemed to seize the diver.
At the same moment there was a tug at the signal-cord, and a sharp tug at the life-line, for Dutch gave the word, and Rasp was dragged rapidly to the surface, the shark following, and making a fresh snap at him as he was hoisted on deck.
The second snap divided the tube, which the monster caught across his jaws, but no sooner was Rasp in safety than Mr Parkley threw one of his cartridges at the shark, where it swam now round and round, with only its back fin above the water.
In an instant the creature turned on one side, and the white cartridge was seen to disappear. Then followed a touch of the wire against the hissing battery, there was a deafening report, and the schooner heaved a little over on one side, and the surface of the placid sea was covered with blood-stained fragments which were seized and borne off by a shoal of silvery-looking fish, which seemed attracted to the spot in thousands.
“What did you pull me up for?” roared Rasp, as soon as he was relieved of his helmet.
“To save your life,” was the reply.
“It’s shabby, that’s what it is,” said Rasp angrily. “No one interfered with you, Mr Dutch, when you had your turn.”
“But you signalled to be pulled up.”
“That I didn’t,” growled the old fellow. “It was that brute bit at my helmet. Has he made any marks?”
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley, lifting up the bright copper headpiece, and examining the couple of curves of sharply defined scratches which had been made by the monster’s teeth.
“Then you should have left me alone,” growled Rasp. “I should have killed that chap if I could have got my knife out of the sheath.”
“And could you not?” said Dutch.
“No. It’s a sticking fast in the sheath there, and—. Who’s took it out?” he growled, feeling his side. “Why, I must ha’ dropped it.”
The bright blade could be seen lying below, and Rasp stood grumbling and wondering how it could have happened, ending with whispering to Dutch.
“I ain’t afeard on the beggars, but don’t let out as I was took aback. I worn’t ready, you know; that’s how it was.”
Dutch nodded assent, and the subject dropped, for Rasp pulled a couple of large and two small lumps of shelly matter from his pocket, the weight of which instantly told Mr Parkley that they were ingots in the same condition as the first.
There was no doubt now about the treasure having been found, and the question discussed was whether it would be better to try and get rid of the sand by blasting, or try the slower and more laborious plan of digging it away.
This last was decided on, especially as, by blasting away the sand, the silver ingots to a great extent might be cast away with the covering. Besides which, the position of the schooner was so satisfactory that the captain was averse to its being moved, and wished, if possible, to retain it where it was. Tackle was rigged up, then, with iron buckets attached to ropes, and the afternoon was spent by Dutch and Rasp in turn in filling the buckets, which were then drawn up by the sailors and emptied beyond the ribs of the old galleon.
The filling of the buckets resulted in the discovery of many ingots, which were placed aside, and at last, after several descents, a portion of the treasure was reached, and instead of sending up sand, the buckets were filled with silver and the rough shelly concrete, though every ingot as they worked lower was more free from the adhesion, till the lower ones were almost literally blackened silver covered with sand.
Worn out with fatigue the task was at last set aside for the day, and in honour of their great success, ’Pollo’s best endeavours had been called into question to prepare what was quite a banquet, during which Mr Parkley was congratulated by his friends in turn, and afterwards, when seated in the comparative cool of the evening, the question was discussed as to there being any risk attending their proceedings.
“I don’t suppose we are right from some points of view,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “But let’s secure all the treasure, and we’ll talk about that afterwards. We shall give you a rich cargo, Studwick.”
“I hope so,” was the reply, “but you’ll have to go on for many days at this rate before I am overloaded.”
“Wait a bit, eh, Dutch Pugh. I think we shall astonish him yet. Come, a glass of champagne, man. You are low with your accident. What are you dreaming about?”
“I was wondering,” said Dutch, quietly, “whether we ought not to take more precautions.”
“What about? Indians ashore?”
“No; sailors afloat.”
“Quite right,” said the captain.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Dutch, “that we must not excite the cupidity of these men by letting them see too much of the treasure, or mischief may follow. There are several fellows here whose looks I don’t like.”
“Don’t invent bugbears, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “We can take care of what we find, for we have plenty of arms, and I doubt very much whether the men would risk their necks by entering into anything in the shape of a mutiny. What do you say to that, eh, Studwick? Am I not right?”
“I don’t know what to say,” replied the captain. “I must confess now that I had my misgivings about some of the men at the commencement of the voyage, and, though I have seen nothing to make me suspicious, the fact of having a large freight of silver on board with such a crew as we have does not tend to make me feel quite at ease.”
“But you have not your large freight of silver on board yet,” said the doctor smiling.
“No, by jove,” exclaimed Mr Studwick; “but if they go on piling up the ingots at the rate they have been this afternoon, we shall soon have a temptation strong enough to incite a set of scoundrels to cut all our throats.”
Dutch started and shuddered.
“Come, come, gentlemen,” cried Mr Parkley, “suppose we stop all this dismal quaking. Here we have so far succeeded in our quest, and the trip bids fair to be all that can be desired, whereupon you set to inventing troubles. Come, I’ll give you a toast. Here, ‘Home, sweet home!’”
“Home, sweet home!” said the others in chorus, as they drained their glasses, saving Dutch, who sat moodily thinking. For these words had recalled happy days that were past. There was no happy home for him, and it seemed as if a wandering life would be the happiest that he could now look forward to in the future.
At last, being weary with their exertions, the watch was set and they went below, the doctor sternly forbidding any one from lying down to sleep on the deck,—a most tempting place in the heat; and no sooner had the captain taken a look round than a couple of dark figures crept stealthily from under the tarpaulin that covered a boat, and were joined by another, who cautiously came forward to join them from the forecastle hatch, the three getting together under the dark shelter of the bulwarks, where earnest conversation was carried on in a whisper.
About half-an-hour later another dark figure crept out upon the deck, and stood listening for a few moments before going down on hands and knees, and then apparently flat upon the deck, to worm its way towards where a faint light shone up from the cabin, and gaze cautiously down through the skylight as far as it could for the wire protection spread over the glass.
Apparently satisfied, the figure crept forward again, and made for the hatch leading down to the berths occupied by Mr Jones, the doctor, the naturalist, Rasp, and where Sam Oakum also turned in.
Now, it so happened that the latter gentleman was enjoying a strange nightmare, in which it seemed to him that Rasp had, out of spite, forced him into one of the diving suits, made him go to the bottom of the sea, and had then suddenly cut off the supply of air. He fought, he struggled, he grunted, he made every effort he could to breathe, but all in vain, and in the horror of the suffocating sensation he awoke to find that a hand was pressed heavily upon his mouth, while another seemed busy at his breast.