CHAPTER XXVI
THE BATTLE OF THE FISHES
"Fire! fire! fire!"
This cry, echoing throughout the Swallow, is the most dreadful that sailors on the high seas know.
What hope is there for those on board of a ship going down in mid-ocean, thousands of miles from land?
"We must put out that fire!" came from Captain Broadbeam. "Man the fire hose and send word to the engine room to turn on the water!"
His orders were obeyed as quickly as possible.
Yet everything takes time, and before the hose could be brought into play the cook's galley was a mass of flames from beginning to end.
The wind was blowing the sparks directly forward, so the captain had the ship swung round, that the fire might be carried largely over the side.
A bucket corps was formed and they, too, poured all the water possible on the conflagration.
It was fierce, hot work, and for some time it looked as if the fire would get the best of the workers and destroy the Swallow.
Small wonder then that Amos Fearless and Dave were for the time being forgotten.
Ten minutes went by—twenty minutes—and both began to grow desperate.
"We must perish!" groaned Dave.
Amos Fearless shook his head, dismally.
Both became too weak to stand up, and sank on the floor of the diving bell.
The air was now stale and made them sleepy.
Gradually Dave's eyes closed.
He tried to arouse himself, but the effort was a failure.
It was the beginning of the sleep of death, and the young diver knew it!
He caught his father's hand and a warm grasp was exchanged in silence.
After that all became as a dream to the young diver.
He thought he was out in the ocean and that numerous fierce fish were swimming close to him.
Then one large fish swallowed him and he found himself cut off from all air.
He fought desperately and at last cut a hole in the fish's side and stepped out into the upper world.
Oh, how good the fresh air tasted. He filled his lungs and took breath after breath—and then——
Dave opened his eyes and stared vacantly around him. He was on the deck of the Swallow and Doctor Barrell was bending over him, a look of deep anxiety on the kindly face.
"Dave, how do you feel now?" came in anxious tones. "Can you breathe?"
He could not answer excepting to take a long breath; but he now understood the situation. He had been hauled up to the Swallow's deck and was saved! Then of a sudden he became unconscious again.
Quarter of an hour later Dave found himself sitting up and swallowing some medicine Doctor Barrell was forcing into his mouth. He still felt very weak, and when he tried to stand, all swam before his eyes.
"You must keep quiet, lad," said the doctor. "You have had a narrow escape from death."
"My father——" began Dave. He could say no more.
"He was brought up with you, of course."
"And is he—is he——"
"He is slowly recovering, but of course he is older than you and not so strong, and it will, consequently, take longer."
"But he will get well?"
"I think so."
After that Dave was silent for a long while. Then Captain Broadbeam came in, his face covered with smoke and grime.
"I suppose you thought we had deserted you," said the captain. "We had a hot time of it, I can tell you."
"A hot time? What do you mean?"
"Don't you know the ship has been afire, lad?"
"No."
"Well, it has been, and that's why we didn't haul you up before. I was afraid we were all bound for Davy Jones' locker, sure."
Of course, Dave was surprised and he listened to the particulars of the fire with interest.
"The galley is burned off clean and clear," said the captain, "and we've got an ugly hole in the forward deck. But otherwise the ship is all right."
The remainder of the day was spent in cleaning up the muss, and then the ship's carpenter went to work, with several sailor assistants, to build a new galley and mend the burned deck.
It was several days before Dave felt able to do any more diving, and even then it was only the thought of locating the sunken treasure that made him go down.
Amos Fearless was too weak to do anything, so Dave had to go down alone.
"Be sure and pull me up," said the young diver, as he was about to enter the diving bell.
"I will see to that," replied Amos Fearless, in his sign language. "Don't stay down too long."
Down and down into the dark and cold waters of the Pacific sank the diving bell.
The trip before had been about half a mile; this time Dave intended to go down twice that distance.
If this trip was successful he was resolved, on the next day, weather permitting, to go down to the very bottom, two miles below the surface.
After what seemed a journey without end the diving bell came to a stop.
The mile limit had been reached.
The young diver turned on the electric lights and gazed around him, curiously.
He gave a start of surprise, and not without reason.
The waters were no longer dark and black.
There was a peculiar glow of light coming up from somewhere below, and in the water floated something closely resembling smoke or clouds.
"What did this mean?"
"It's like another world," he thought. "And what strange fish!"
But then he caught sight of something which filled him with alarm.
A number of small fish had come up around the diving bell and were now swarming all over it, inside and out.
Each fish was less than six inches long, but there were hundreds of them darting hither and thither, churning up the water as before, and emitting a strange, hissing sound.
He tried to get back to the diving bell, but found the effort a failure.
The fish swam against him, plunging and leaping, and finally turned him completely over.
He was in the power of a new enemy, and what the end of this adventure would be there was no telling.
The fish were indeed curious—some long and thin, others short and fat, but all with something extremely unusual in their make-up.
One fish had horns on its head, another had wings like those of a bird, and many had feathers instead of scales on their bodies.
And then came a fish shaped very much like a long, spiral spring, with a square-looking head and horns all of two feet long just over his eyes, which set out like two yellow and white eggs.
"I must try and get you, my beauty," thought the young diver, and prepared to put out the net for that purpose.
He had to work with care, being alone, and it took considerable time before he opened the diving bell and let in the water.
The first thing that struck him when he felt the water on him was that it was no longer cold, but warm—even warmer than at the surface.
This was not unpleasant, but he could not help but wonder how much hotter it might be at the very bottom.
"This part of the ocean may be over a submarine volcano," he reasoned. "If that is so it will be boiling at the bottom, and to get to the wreck will be impossible."
At last his net was set and he baited it with care.
Then he waited.
Several small fish came up and nibbled at his bait, but not the spiral fish he was after.
"He's a shy one," thought Dave. "He's not going to be caught if he knows it."
But at last the young diver was rewarded by seeing two of the spiral fish approaching.
One apparently urged the other on, until both came into the net and began to chew at the bait, which was purposely very tough.
With all speed Dave set to work to shut the net.
This was no easy task for a single person, and in order to accomplish it the young diver had to step outside of the diving bell.
He was just finishing up the task when a strange rushing behind him caused him to turn around.
At first he could see but little, for the water behind him was churned up into a milk-white foam. Then he saw a great mass of little fishes pressing toward him.