“Although you refused last night, I hope you’ll come on board to lunch,” he said, after greeting them pleasantly.
“We have too much on hand,” Jimmy replied. “In fact, we’re not going to stop for a meal. It’s unusually fine weather and we must get into the strong-room before dark. I expect it will take us three or four hours yet.”
“It’s a good excuse,” returned Aynsley. “In a way, I’m glad you’re too busy to come, because I imagine my father is very keen on finishing the job, and I don’t want him to get worrying about the delay.” He paused, and added frankly3: “I’m going to ask a favor. He’s not well, and I gather that you and he are to some extent opposed. Now I can’t expect you to sacrifice your interest, but you might try to avoid any heated dispute as far as possible. Excitement isn’t good for him.”
“We can promise that,” said Jimmy. “It looks as if you knew nothing about the business.”
“I don’t. And, more than that, I have no wish to learn anything.”
“We’re not in a position to tell you much if you pressed us; but it struck us that your father wasn’t looking very fit, and it might be better if you stopped him from going down.”
“I can’t,” Aynsley answered with a smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t much control over him.”
Early in the evening Clay came on board and sat in the cockpit while the men relieved each other below. He asked a question now and then, but for the most part waited quietly, watching the bubbles that rose in milky4 effervescence.
At last the diver came up, and was followed closely by Bethune, bringing a rope.
“The strong-room’s open,” he said exultantly5. “Heave on that line and see what you get!”
Moran pulled with a will, for there was some resistance to be overcome, and Jimmy leaned down in strong excitement when a wooden case smeared6 with sand broke the surface. Seizing it he came near to being dragged over the rail, and Bethune had to help him to lift it on board. Clay examined the case coolly, studying the half-washed-out marks.
“You ought to get something handsome for salvage7 on that, and I won’t contest your claim,” he said. “Keep it on board if you like; our diver’s paid by the day. Now, if you’re ready, we’ll go down.”
They carefully fastened on his dress, but when Bethune gave him a few instructions he said his own man had told him all he needed to know during the voyage. Jimmy put on his helmet and went first down the ladder, waiting at the bottom for Clay. It was, he felt, a strange experience to be walking along the sea-floor with a man who had been his enemy; but he was now master of the situation. Indeed, he had to help his companion when they reached the entrance to the hold and he did not think that Clay could have crept up the dark passage between the shaft8 tunnel and the hanging weed on the ship’s crushed side without his assistance. Their lamps glimmered9 feebly through the water that sucked in and out, and it was no easy matter to keep signal-lines and air-pipes clear. Clay, however, though awkward and somewhat feeble in his movements, showed no want of nerve.
When they crawled into the strong-room he stood still, moving his lamp. The pale flashes wavered to and fro, searching the rough, iron-bound planks11, until they stopped, fixed12 upon one spot. Clay beckoned13 Jimmy toward it, and then, losing his balance, lurched and swayed in a ludicrous manner before he could steady himself. Jimmy thought the man must be mistaken, for he had indicated a plank10 in the deck between two iron plates, although, as the wreck14 had fallen over, the plank was on one side of them, instead of being overhead. He turned to Clay with a questioning motion of his hands, but the flicker15 of light was still fixed upon the same spot. Jimmy raised the crowbar he had brought and drove it into a joint16 nearly level with his head, and Clay indicated that he was doing right.
Jimmy knew that he had no time to lose. Clay was not in good health, and had already been under water as long as was safe for a man unaccustomed to the pressure. If he broke down, it would be difficult to get him out of the hold. For all that, Jimmy was reluctant to abandon the search a moment before it was necessary. It was getting dark, the stream was gaining strength, and it did not seem probable that any one could get down again that night. Jimmy wanted to finish his task.
The beam he attacked was soft, but two bolts ran through it and an iron strap17 was clamped along its edge. The rotten timber tore away in flakes18, but Jimmy could not break out a large piece, and the iron fastenings deflected19 his bar. He glanced at his companion, who encouraged him by a gesture; and then fell to work again with determined20 energy. He did not know how long he continued, but he was disturbed by a movement of the water and saw Clay swaying slackly to and fro. It looked as if he were about to fall, but his heavy boots and buoyant dress kept him upright. Still he might go down, and Jimmy knew that it is hard to recover one’s balance in a diving dress. Clay must be got out at once. Jimmy seized his arm and made his way toward the opening, thrusting his companion along the side of the shaft tunnel.
It was with keen relief that he dragged him clear of the splintered beams at the entrance to the hold and stepped out on the level bottom of the sea. No light came down through the water, even the shadow of the sloop above was no longer discernible; but Jimmy had his signal-line for guide and followed it with his hand on Clay’s shoulder, until he distinguished21 the ripple22 of the tide about the ladder.
Pushing his companion toward it, he watched his clumsy ascent23 and then clambered up. When he got on board Clay was sitting on deck, but he sank back limply against the cabin top as they took his helmet off. It was nearly dark, but they could see that his lips were blue, and that his livid face was mottled by faint purple patches. He gasped24 once or twice, and then began to fumble25 awkwardly at the breast of the diving dress.
“I know what he wants!” cried Aynsley. “Get these things off him as quick as you can! Somebody bring me a spoon!”
They hurriedly stripped the canvas covering from the half-conscious man, and, taking a small bottle from his vest pocket, gave him a few drops of the liquid. It took effect, for in a few moments Clay feebly raised himself.
“Better now; not used to diving,” he said, and turned to Jimmy as Aynsley and a seaman26 helped him into the waiting gig. “We’ll get the case next time.”
The gig pulled away, and the three men watched it disappear into the darkness.
“It’s lucky you were able to bring him up,” Bethune observed.
“I was scared at first,” Jimmy confessed. “Perhaps I should have come up sooner, but he seemed determined to stop.”
“What about the case?”
“We hadn’t time to get at it. You see, it’s not in the strong-room. He made me start cutting out the underside of the deck.”
“The deck!” exclaimed Moran. “Then they must have put the stuff in the poop cabin!”
“I don’t think so. I expect there’s a shallow space between the main beams and the cabin floor.”
“And that’s where the case is? It strikes me as curious; distinctly curious!”
“I dare say; I didn’t think of that. The most important thing is that we ought to reach the case in about an hour.”
“It’s too risky27. The tide’s running strong now, and it’s going to be very dark. We have kept clear of serious trouble so far, and I see no sign of wind.”
Jimmy reluctantly agreed to wait until the morning and Bethune went below to get supper ready.
At daybreak Aynsley pulled across in the yacht’s small dinghy, and his face had an anxious look as he entered the Cetacea’s cabin, where Jimmy was cleaning some of the pump fittings by lamplight.
“How is Mr. Clay?” Jimmy asked.
“He looks very ill. I left him getting up and sculled across as quietly as I could to have a talk with you. Can you do anything to prevent his going down? I don’t think he’s fit for it.”
“I’m afraid not. You see, we’re at variance28, in a way, and if we made any objections he’d get suspicious.”
“You couldn’t play some trick with the diving gear? I’m worried about him; the pressure and exertion29 might be dangerous.”
“We might put our own pump out of action, but we couldn’t meddle30 with yours, and he might insist on going alone.”
“That wouldn’t do,” said Aynsley. “I wouldn’t hesitate to smash our
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