The sun was shining and the wind-swept sea presented a beautiful aspect the following morning. The water broke over the lower edge of the deck-houseupon which he lay, but only reached to his feet, foaming down the slant until it made a whirlpool in a mass of line which floated in a tangle. A line about his waist was made fast to a ring-bolt near him, and sitting alongside of him, with his head thrust forward peering out over the sea, was Garfunkle, his second mate.
An exclamation and their eyes met. Johnson raised himself to a sitting posture, though the pain in his cramped limbs made him groan.
"The forrad house, eh?" he said.
"Yessir," said the mate.
"You saved me?"
"Yessir, I just heard your call in time. You were done for, but were right within a foot of me. It was dark."
"No one else but us two?" asked the captain.
"All gone, sir, and it looks like we are going. There won't be another ship this way in a week. That was the West India liner,Hammersea, from Kingston to Liverpool, who ran us down. I saw the name on one of her boats that was torn off her. It was smashed up and floating close aboard us an hour ago."
"To run a man down is carelessness, but to leave him afterwards is murder," said Johnson with bitterness.
They were about six hundred miles from the Bahamas and to the eastward of the Stream. The water was warm and blue and the sea was going down. The easterly weather was dying out and the semi-tropicalwarmth was taking its place. Near them several dark objects showed now and again upon the slopes of the seas, and they knew they must be débris from the sunken ship.
Johnson had probably not swam over twenty fathoms in the whole desperate endeavour he had made the night before. The darkness had prevented him from making any definite course and he had swum with the drift of the house. Garfunkle had been swept overboard with the wreck of the mainmast; the stem of the steamer had torn its way through the forward house, knocking it overboard. It was the only thing that had floated clear, for the spars were all stayed with steel rigging and the lanyards of the lee rigging had held against the shock although the mainmast had been driven out of her. The great spar had been dragged down with the sinking ship, but the house had floated clear and was resting upon its side. In the open doorway they could see clothes and sea-chests which had remained in the forecastle and which had not been washed out with the force of the sea.
They were weak and exhausted from the night of effort, but they went to work at a chest and dragged it through the door and upon the slanting side of the house. It sent the float down a good foot in the sea, but they persisted in the hope of finding something of value. The chest was almost empty. It contained a few clothes, a Bible and a large revolver, the cartridges still intact within the chambers. Johnson stuck the weapon in his waist-band, and his mateplaced the Bible and clothes clear of the sea. Then he kicked the chest adrift. It floated off, setting high upon the water and looking absurdly out of place.
"Nothing to eat—nothing to drink—looks pretty bad," said Garfunkle.
Johnson made no comment. He was grateful that he was still alive, and being a sailor he felt that it was a long way between that floating deck-house and drowning. He would get ashore again soon enough, and would not let his wife or children know how near he had come to passing. It would be simply a money loss. He had owned several shares in the schooner, and she had been a fine ship, paying twenty per cent., but he would get another and go on as before. If he ever caught up with the pilot of that steamer, he would see that the fellow gave an account of himself. His cargo had been insured fully, and the underwriters would make things hot for the rascal who had so ruthlessly run him down.
The first day passed without incident of importance. The pangs of hunger were beginning to be felt keenly by both men upon the float. Johnson was cheerful but Garfunkle was pessimistic and grumbled continually. He stood up every now and then to scan the horizon, but nothing broke the evenness of the dark blue rim.
The second day it was hot and calm. Both men took off their clothes and cooled themselves in the sea until a huge shadow rising alongside made them hasten up the slanting side of their float. A great tigershark rose at the edge of the house, and taking a shove, sent his broad nose up the slanting side until it almost touched their feet. Then he slid back again into the sea and swam slowly around the house, coming back again to the side that sloped into the water for another effort to get his prey. The men were more amused than frightened at his attempts. Garfunkle stripped a plank off the edge where it had been shattered, and at the monster's third effort he drove the ragged sharpened point deep into its eye. He floundered back into the sea and remained motionless some ten fathoms distant upon the surface. A smaller denizen of the same species came up and tried the same method, but he was rapped sharply over the head and he kept away. But as the darkness came on, the men realized that they must not relax their vigilance, for the hungry fish made other attempts to get them.
The morning of the third day Garfunkle was delirious. He raved about water and stood up oftener to scan the sea. Johnson was very weak, but kept his senses. He noticed a floating object near at hand and soon made out the sunken small boat torn from the steamer's side. As the morning wore on it drifted nearer and finally came alongside. He grasped the painter and managed to get the mate to give him a hand. Together they managed to drag the boat's bow up the slope of the float, and they saw that the plank at the stem just below the water-line had been smashed in. Weakened as he was, Johnson determined to patch it and accordingly set to work. By placing a piece ofthe house planking on the outside and lashing it fast with the line, he managed to get the leak stopped sufficiently to allow the bailing of the craft. Then by getting into the stern, they kept the leak clear of the sea and the boat was safe enough. Searching through the locker aft, where the food for emergency was kept, they came upon the case of biscuit, water-soaked, to be sure, but still in partly solid shape. They ate some and felt better for a time, but their thirst was aggravated. The small water-breaker usually kept in lifeboats was missing. Under the thwarts was a sail, and one oar was still fast in her bottom. Johnson cut the lashings and drew the gear out. It would be of service to them for a rudder.
The hunger pains had died away by the fourth day, but their thirst was terrible. A man may go for days upon water alone, but without it he can last only a short time under a warm sun. By keeping their bodies wet they eased themselves a little, but not much. The absorption through the skin was insufficient to do them much good. Time and again, they seemed to see a ship bearing down upon them and one or the other would cry out, but after a while they desisted. The sea was a heaving plain as far as the sight could reach, unbroken by a single object. The deep blue turned to a deeper steel-gray nearer the horizon in the calm, meeting the almost cloudless sky in a haze. There was no wind, but they must get away. To remain any longer on the house was to invite a terrible death. It might be the same thing in the boat, butthey would at least feel that they were going somewhere, getting nearer to help and water.
It was water, always water. The liquid around them made the madness of thirst double. They had gazed down into the clear depths for hours, seeing visions of streams of fresh water, craving to plunge into them, the burning and all-consuming thirst in their throats waxing more and more intense. They had no longer any idea of hunger. The ship's bread they left untouched, for it was wet with salt water and the slightest bit of that liquid made them frantic. They could have just as well drunk pure alcohol.
Garfunkle was for starting off at once. He had become rational again, but his eyes held a certain light when they met the captain's that told of the madness in his brain. He always lowered them when Johnson looked at him, but he spoke always in a low, soft voice now, a sort of purring, and Johnson knew it was the purring of the famished tiger. Garfunkle was a big man and very powerful. He had risen to mate's berth as much by his physical abilities as mental. He was stripped to the waist, and his body, which he had kept wet, was burned to a bright red by the sun. The patch of hair on his broad chest showed in marked contrast to the surrounding skin. Johnson had kept his shirt on his back and saved himself the extra annoyance of the sun. He preferred to shiver a bit at night than to burn during the daytime.
When they had stepped the mast and made all ready for a start, they noticed some small fish swimmingclose to the edge of the float. The dorsal fin of a large shark lay twenty fathoms distant upon the surface of the sea, and they wondered at the carelessness of the fish who ignored it. They seemed quite tame, and Johnson took the piece of wood they had used to keep off the sharks, whittled the end into a fresh point and lay at full length upon the house, his idea being to spear a few of the small fry and take them along for food. He was quite weak and his brain was dizzy. The exertion of mending the boat was exhausting and he made many ineffectual attempts to strike the fish without looking up.
Suddenly he was aware of a feeling of danger. He turned and saw Garfunkle stealthily coming upon him with the upraised oar. There was a wild look in the mate's eyes, but he grinned when Johnson turned and began a soft speech, half incoherent. Johnson was lying down, but managed to draw the pistol he had kept in his belt. The mate smiled, put the oar back into the boat and suddenly shoved her clear of the house, springing into her and sitting down upon a thwart.
Johnson looked at him, dazed, half understanding, his brain reeling in the sunshine.
"Come back," he said calmly.
Garfunkle grinned at him and grasped the sheet, hauled it aft and put the oar over the stern for a rudder. There was no wind and the boat remained motionless. The mate began to scull away slowly.
"Come back," said Johnson in a low tone.
The mate turned his back upon him and as the boat's head payed off, kept her on her course to the westward.
"Come back," said Johnson again.
The boat drew slowly off. She was ten fathoms before Johnson realized that he was being deserted. Garfunkle sculled her slowly, the sail slatting with the roll of the sea.
Johnson still held the revolver. It came upon him suddenly that he was being left, that he was lost. The vision of the home ashore flashed before him, the green grass and white cottage, with his smiling wife and romping children. He was being left to die.
He drew the hammer of the revolver back and raised the weapon, letting the front sight stop full upon the middle of Garfunkle's back between the shoulders. He hesitated, and as he did so he remembered that the man had saved his life but a few days before. He would have drowned but for the rescuing grip which hauled him upon the house. He let the weapon sink until its muzzle touched the planks, and he put his left hand to his head to try to help his reeling brain to reason properly. No, he could not die. The vision of the home ashore came stronger to him. It was not for himself alone that he would live, but live he must, and would.
The sights of the pistol settled again upon the back of his mate. He was twenty fathoms distant and drifting slowly away. Johnson pressed the trigger.
The report jarred him. The puff of smoke disappeared at once into the air, and he saw Garfunkle look around and grin. Then the mate stood up, reeled, staggered, and plunged headlong overboard. He saw him no more.
Without waiting an instant Johnson swam toward the craft and managed to gain her. He had forgotten about the sharks, but nothing struck him. He took the oar the mate had dropped in the water alongside, and after he climbed aboard he trimmed the sheet and settled himself in the stern, making the oar fast in a becket. If he let go of it now he would not lose it. The sun was in the west and he headed away, steering as near as he could guess for the Bahamas.
The wrecking sloopSea-Horsewas coming along up the coast and the captain, Sanders, of Key West, noticed something floating upon the broad stretch of sea which looked like a small white boat. Boats were not met with so far off shore, and the object sat so low in the water and appeared without control that the skipper of the wrecker called his mate.
"What d'ye make of that, Bill?" said he, pointing to the white speck.
Bahama Bill, the huge negro diver and wrecker, looked long and intently at it.
"'Pears to me like it was er wrack, cap—what? Looks to be a stove-in boat, an' I reckon we might as well pick her up—maybe we kin fix her to be ob use wid a little paint and putty. Ennyways, we kin sell her to some dub in Miami en clar enough fo' de trouble—what yo' say, cap?"
"Oh, let her head up to it if you want to," said Sanders. "I don't like running out of my line when I'm in a hurry, but if you want her, get her. I reckon we might pass her off for a few dollars—stand by the main sheet."
"Ship's boat—yassir, dat's a ship's boat fo' shuah, cap," said the giant mate as the wrecking vessel drew nearer. "Must be some ob de wrack hereabouts—we better lay by en take a look eround, yassir."
"Let her luff a little," called Sanders to the man at the wheel. "Steady—so, let her go, jest so—steady—Good God! What—There's a man in her—"
"Stand by de jib sheet," roared Bahama Bill. "Yo' kin let her come to when yo' ready, sah—I'll stand by toe ketch him, sah."
The huge mate leaned far over the side of theSea-Horseand with a mighty grip seized the floating small craft by the gunwale. She was half full of water, but he sprang into her and passed up her painter to a man on deck while the wrecking sloop plunged and bucked into the sea, her sails slatting and switching as she lay right in the wind. In a moment the mate had lifted the body and passed it aboard and the half-sunken small boat was dropped astern.
They poured water between his sun-baked lips and upon his swollen, livid tongue. In a few hours the corpse showed signs of life, but the blue-black face was motionless for days, and they had reached Jacksonville before the man's features relaxed enough forhim to speak. He could not make himself understood, and it was three weeks later, when he was able to sit up in the cot at the seaman's hospital, before he could tell of his affair.
He was discharged as cured and went to his home. He had heard nothing from his wife and supposed she had heard nothing concerning him. When he entered the gate he noticed that all was silent about the place. A neighbour accosted him and asked who he was, but he was put out at the delay and refused to tell his business. Then the man told him how the news had come in that he had gone down in his ship nearly a month ago and that his wife had failed and died within a week.
He listened silently, and when the man finished he went into the house.
They found him dead that evening with a bullet-hole between the eyes.
"Crazy with grief," said the neighbours who knew his home life. The doctor who examined him thought differently.
"There is absolutely nothing abnormal about him," said the physician. "He looks like a man who has gotten tired out—clean exhausted with the futility of some great effort—look at his face."
X
On the Great Bahama Bank
StormalongJournegan was a Conch, a native of the Bahamas. He stood six feet four inches upon his thin spindle-shanks, and it is doubtful if he ever weighed more than one hundred pounds; no, not even when soaking wet. He was thin.
He lit up for the night, wiped the bar free from the gin and bitters spilled there by a drunken customer, and then turned to survey his room, waiting for the whistle of the liner. It was the night the ship was due, the giant New York mail liner, ten thousand tons and not less than three hundred passengers. All of these would be thirsty, for the weather is always warm in Key West in the early spring.
Journegan was a "spouter." That is, he had been with a religious bunch of reefers, and he was free to make use of the Scriptures—too free entirely to suit the orthodox ecclesiastics of Key West. Over the sign of "The Cayo Huesso" the legend ran thus: "As it was in the beginning, it is now," showing that Journegan was not a reformer at all, but believed in the Bible and the true creed. And the worst of it all was that he was accurate in his quotations; not onlyaccurate, but invincible and gifted with that terrible weapon—an unfailing memory.
"Why do you use such blasphemy?" asked a divine, shocked at the sign and its motto.
"I was taught that there creed by a better man than you, suh, and he said: 'As it ware in the beginning, it is now, an' ever shall be, world without end. Amen.' I heard ye say them same words onct when I 'tended meetin'. What ye got agin' 'em, hey?"
"Nothing at all—nothing at all."
"Then cl'ar out. Git erlong. Don't come makin' no trouble fer me. I don't ask ye to drink—git away."
"Yes, sir," went on Journegan, turning to an approaching customer. "It's the same now as it always ware—same as it ware in the beginning—always shall be just the same—human nature never changes, not at all. There'll always be the bad, and always be the good. The bad are the strong gone wrong. The good are the weak tryin' to make good; sometimes they're strong too, but very seldom. Strength and goodness don't go together except in rare cases, but when a good man's strong, he's sure nuff strong.
"Ye see, we've all got a livin' to make. We hire men to study religion for us and pay 'em to preach it out of pulpits—yes, sir, actually pay 'em to git up and preach about th' Gospel as if you or me couldn't read or write! What's the sense? What's the sense of paying a man for doing something you can do yourself just as well? If salvation depends on a fellow'sability to translate the Gospel, then it's a mighty poor Gospel for poor folk—but it don't. It's a good livin' they make preachin', and I for one don't take no offense at a feller chargin' for his talk; not that he knows any more than you or me—'cause he can't know a blame bit more—but we've all got to live, an' the feller what talks has to live, too. Let him live by talk. Let me live by sellin' things. I don't ask no favours, but I don't want no guy what jest talks an' talks fer money to come around an' bother me—that's all; yes, that's erbout all, I reckon."
You will see that Journegan was very popular with the strong men who worked and very unpopular with the men who preached.
"Your head is as long as your body," admitted Captain Smart, entering the gilded hall. "What you say goes, Stormalong—gimme a drink."
"Goin' to meet the ship?" asked Journegan.
"Yep, I'm goin' back in her if I get the chance," said Smart. "I've been on the beach here a week now. Dunn settled up his wrecking bill with that fellow 'Bahama Bill' and Captain Sanders and their gang, and that lets me out. I'm out a good berth. She was a fine yacht."
"'Twasn't your fault you lost her, I heard tell," said Journegan, with a leer.
"I did all I could," admitted Smart, "but I lost her, just the same. There is no excuse for the loser, you know."
"Yep, I knows well enough," said Journeganslowly, as if thinking over something. "'Peared to be leakin' badly all o' a sudden-like, hey?"
"Yes, started to leak during the blow, or just before it. A bit of hard luck you may say."
"Well, you'll know more about the reef if you stay here a while."
There was some strange meaning in Stormalong's tone, and it was not lost on Smart.
"You are the second man who has said something to that effect," said the seaman. "Now, what the devil do you mean by it?"
"Oh, nothing much. No use getting worked up by what I said. You don't know much about the ways of folk along the reef and bank. That's all—there goes the whistle of the liner."
A deep-toned siren roared out over the quiet waters of the reef, sounding far away to sea, and seemed to be coming from some distant point to the southward. Smart recognized it as the call of his ship, the ship he had left months before for the sake of a woman.
He drank off his liquor and started for the dock, making his way along the white roadway and joining the throng of Conchs who lazily walked toward the shore to see the great liner make her landing. She was a new ship, a ship of huge tonnage for a Southern liner, and it was a treat to watch her officers dock her. Slowly she came drifting in toward the land, her mighty engines sending the white coral water moving gently from her stern.
Her giant bows came near the landing. A tiny figure flung a filmy line through the air, a line so small in proportion to her great bulk that it seemed but a spider-web. But behind it followed a great hawser, and a dozen lazy black men hauled it ashore and threw the loop over a pile-end.
Then a shrill whistle sounded, and the deep rumble of the engines told of the backing strain. She swung alongside the wharf finally and made fast her stern and spring-lines. Then a gangway shot out, and the captain came quickly down, followed by a swarm of passengers.
As the ship was to stop only a half-hour at Key West, her commander had to make a quick clearance and entry, taking on some fifty passengers who were in the cigar business and who made Key West an important stop on that account. They were all through first-class to New York. Smart joined Captain Flanagan while he walked briskly toward the customhouse. The skipper shook his hand warmly, and asked how he came to be down there. Then followed the story of the wreck of a yacht, and the tale of an officer out of a berth, all of which Flanagan listened to with waning interest. The old, old story was uncommonly dull to him. He was powerless to do anything, and he spoke forth.
"It's no use of talking about it any more, Smart. You know the rules of the company as well as I do. You know there are other men waiting to step into berths, and when a man steps out like you did it's upto him to stay out and give the rest a chance. How would you like to have a man come back into a ship and block you for perhaps twenty years? No, it won't do, even if I could do it. You are out. Stay out, unless you want to start in again at the foot, as a third mate."
"No, I can't drop to that position at my age," said Smart sadly. "I'm holding a master's ticket, and if you can't take me on as a second at least, why, all right, I'll have to ship somewhere else."
"I'm mighty sorry, old man," said Flanagan, "but you know it's not my fault. It's the rules of the company, and if I took you on to New York you would be dropped as soon as we landed. I can give you a passage up, if you want it. Here's a key to the stateroom—take it."
"No, you don't. If I stay ashore, I stay right here. Don't worry about me. I'll try to make good. I know I was a fool, but sometimes we all play the fool. Good-bye, and good luck. How does the ship run?"
Flanagan was gone. The light of Stormalong's shone out brightly in the distance. Smart kept his eyes upon them for a long time, and wandered about the streets. The warning whistle of the liner blew for a farewell, and as the sound roared out upon the night the seaman turned away and went up the street.
II
Captain Smart was in a particularly uncomfortable mood. He had left the liner for a woman, a womanwhom he desired and whom he thought worth any sacrifice. Later he discovered that she was selfish to the core. He had expected companionship, love, and sympathy. He had found cold, calculating animalism: a brutality all the more horrible for its refinement, for its servitude to wealth and position. Yes, she had told him plainly just how she felt about it, and had made it perfectly plain that she would mate only with some one who could place her in surroundings which she desired, not what she would get as the wife of a seaman, a captain of a ship. And he could not blame her. No, it was manifestly not her fault. It was the fault of the society in which she had been brought up. It had stifled the woman in her and developed the snob to an extent that would admit of no choice on the part of either.
He had seen his mistake, and the loss of the yacht upon which she was a guest had given him a chance to complete the affair, to get away from all the familiar surroundings. Now he was "on the beach."
"On the beach," to a sailor means without a ship and without money. Smart had neither ship nor money, but he had a strong constitution and high spirits, and the lights of Stormalong's were still burning brightly down the long, smooth road.
He entered and noticed that the tables were full. A company of men were playing cards at the farthest end of the saloon, and he made his way toward them. A game of poker always fascinated him, and he hung over the back of a player, watching his cards and noting the manner he threw away a high pair to fill a flush.
"Would ye like to set in?" asked Stormalong, who had come over to get an order for drinks.
"I wouldn't mind setting in for a short time," Smart nodded. "No all-night séance for me, and quit when you want to."
"Gents," began the saloon-keeper, "this is Captain Smart, of the schooner—ah, well, never mind that, hey? Well, Smart was chief officer of the ship just gone out. He's got the dough, and kin play a keard or two, if you give him a chance."
"Set right in here, cap," said a thick-set, sunburnt man whose calling was manifest in his face. "I'm a reefer, an' run a sponger, but I reckon I kin play with yer."
"You make five—just right for luck," was the greeting of another, a thin, eagle-nosed fellow who declared that his name was Smith—Wilson Smith.
A man with a thick growth of beard nodded to him across the board, and a squat, twinkling-eyed little fellow, with the hue of the tobacco factory upon him, held out his hand. "My name's Jacobs—traveller for the Garcias'—glad to meet you."
The cards were dealt round afresh, and Smart took up his hand. For some time nothing occurred to distract the attention of the players from the game, but gradually their talk and the clink of money as they made change attracted the crowd.
Smart was aware of a huge form just behind him,and, glancing up, he looked right into the face of Bahama Bill, the black mate of the wrecking-sloopSea-Horse. A huge grin was upon the black man's ugly face, and he laid his enormous hand upon Smart's shoulder. "Huh, how yo' is, cap? Thought you'd gone away fo' sho. Stopped to teach 'em how toe play de game, huh? Yah, yah, ya-a-a!"
"Stormalong," broke in Wilson Smith, "I don't want to appear rude, but I draw the colour line sometimes, especially at keards. If the big nigger standing behind us will sit down or move along, it'll facilitate the game some."
Bahama Bill heard the remarks, but, being in a white man's saloon, he said nothing. He showed his teeth in a mirthless smile, a smile which boded no good for the man who had spoken and who was evidently a stranger to him.
Stormalong motioned to the wrecker to sit down, and Bill did so without comment. He was well known and fairly well liked, and his record allowed him some privileges which were not accorded to men of his race. Being part owner as well as mate of the wrecking-sloop made him a person of more or less note. Therefore Stormalong furnished him with unlimited rum, which he paid for from a wad of bills which made the observers gaze with surprise. Mr. Dunn, the owner of the yacht which Smart had lost, had been trimmed very cleanly. The salvage on her had been large for so small a vessel, owing to the valuable silverware, furnishings, and other fittings.
III
The game progressed slowly, but Wilson Smith began to win little by little. Smart suddenly found he held three aces. He raised the limit before drawing, and discarded two cards, hoping to draw another ace. Jacobs, the cigar man, came in, and Smith raised it one better, which Smart made good, the other two men dropping out.
Bahama Bill had drunk several glasses of rum by this time, and he again appeared to fix his attention upon the game, but not so as to attract attention, standing well back of all but keeping his eyes fixed in a steady gaze upon the thin-faced man's cards.
The cards were dealt, and Smart drew a pair of queens, filling, and thus holding a strong hand. Jacobs drew one card, and quietly slipped it into his hand. His face was emotionless, and he puffed lazily at his cigar, complacently cocked up at a high angle in his jaws. Smith drew four cards, and, after conning his hand carefully, bet a dollar.
Jacobs raised, and Captain Smart came upon him for the limit. Wilson Smith, to the surprise of all, raised back the limit. The cigar man was game, and came again. Smart holding an ace-full, could not, of course, let it pass him, so he again raised it.
"We all bein' so mighty peart about our hands—let's throw the limit off," suggested Smith.
"I'm more'n willin'," agreed Jacobs. "What d'ye say, cap?"
"I haven't much money"—Smart hesitated—"and just came in the game to pass the time, but if the rest are willing, I'll stay."
Wilson Smith looked around approvingly. "I'll make it fifty dollars better than what there's in it." He drew a cigar from his pocket and lit it with an easy air.
"I'll have to make it two hundred better," Jacobs protested grimly. "I hate to gamble, but I can't let a hand like this pass me."
"Oh, I haven't any money like that." Captain Smart's brows were raised in surprise. "Fifty is all I can show."
"Well, I'm sorry about that," said Jacobs. "Of course we'll give you a show, but the limit was put off on purpose to let us play keards."
Smart was aware of a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He turned, and found Bahama Bill standing close to him.
"Take dis hear, cap." And Bill thrust an enormous roll of bills unto his pile upon the table. "I'll stand by toe see yo' through."
Wilson Smith looked up again, and then called for Stormalong Journegan.
"Journegan," said he, "this is the second time I have had to speak to you about being annoyed. If it happens again there'll be trouble."
"Play poker," came a voice from the crowd.
Smart gazed about him for a moment. It was evident that the mate of theSea-Horsehad an object inputting up his cash. He was quick-witted enough to see that it was best to go ahead without making any comment. He could stop after this hand.
Bahama Bill drew back at a sign from Journegan, but still fixed his gaze upon Smith's hand. It seemed as though he had seen the hands of the men, and was betting upon the best. Smart could think of no other reason for the money being left him, and he felt certain that he would win. Bill was just backing the hand he had seen to be the winner.
As long as that was the case he would go the limit. He counted out five hundred dollars and laid it upon the table. Then he picked up his cards again and skimmed over the squeezers, waiting for the end.
Jacobs drew out the amount to make good, and the thin-faced man felt in his pocket for his roll. He bent over in doing this, and as he did so he held his cards close to his breast in his left hand. He was still fumbling in his trousers pocket with his right when a black hand suddenly reached over his shoulder and drew forth a complete "hold-out" from under his waistcoat where his hand pressed. The movement was so quick, so powerful, and so disconcerting, that for an instant there was a silence, and the fellow threw up his head. The next moment he had drawn his gun, a long, blue-barrelled revolver of heavy pattern, and had swung it up over his shoulder and fired like a flash of lightning into Bahama Bill.
Instantly there was an uproar, and above the noise of the struggling mass of men there sounded the bull-like bass of the mate of theSea-Horse: "I got yo' fer sho, Skinny Ike—I got yo'."
IV
Captain Smart grabbed what money he could get hands upon, and while thus engaged the cigar man dealt him a powerful blow over the shoulders with a chair. It had been meant for his head, but instead it landed upon the heavy muscles Smart had earned by hard work hauling lines. He gave a yell, and sprang upon his assailant. Just then Stormalong Journegan opened with his gun, and the quick firing drowned all other sounds.
Through the smoke of the fight Smart saw his man, and smote him with all his power upon the jaw. The fellow went down and out. Many of the bystanders had been with the crooks, probably a gang of six or more, and these fell upon Smart and Bahama Bill.
Smart found himself fighting two quick, agile fellows who struck at him with weapons he could not distinguish. The rest piled upon the giant mate while Journegan fired upon the bunch, taking care not to hit any one, for he had no desire to ruin his business. His lead, however, went so close that one man got a clip that knocked him over. The room filled with smoke, and the uproar was loud enough, but suddenly Smart was aware of the giant Conch struggling to his feet and swinging out right and left with two mighty fists, sending men tumbling about like chips before a storm. Just beneath him the thin-faced man, WilsonSmith—dubbed "Skinny Ike" by Bill—lay in a heap.
"Come on, yo' muckers, come on an' git yo' medicine," he bawled. Then he picked up the prostrate man, and, taking him by the shoulders, used him as a flail, swinging him about his head and knocking every one in his path into a state of submission. The men around Smart fled in confusion, and in a moment Bahama Bill and the captain stood alone in the end of the room, the rest of the onlookers making good their escape to the street. Journegan stood behind his bar and grinned down the barrel of his empty gun.
"Air ye hurted much, Bill?" he asked.
"Hurt!" roared the giant mate. "What'd hurt me here, anyway, 'cept yo' blamed rum, hey?"
"Well, if you want to make a gitaway now's the time, I reckon, for this place'll be pulled to-night sure—an' that in a mighty few minutes."
Bahama Bill dropped the limp form of Wilson Smith. The man was not seriously hurt, only horribly bruised. The rest were either insensible from blows or unable to rise from the smash of the thin fellow's body upon them, for the mate had stove them hard enough to break ribs and arms with his human whip. Some of the gang essayed to sit up and take notice after the mate ceased to speak. One had the temerity to draw a gun, which Bill unceremoniously kicked out of his hand.
"I reckon we'd better be goin' 'long, cap," said thebig black. "This place'll be pulled by the marshal inside o' ten minutes. Take up w'at dough you sees; I'll kerlect it off'n you later."
"Didn't you git a plug?" asked Journegan.
"Oh, yas; jest a little hole in de shoulder—dat's nothin'. Come on, cap."
Smart hesitated a minute. "Where do we go?" he asked.
"Aboa'd deSea-Horse—an' to sea as fast as we kin git her movin'. Ought toe been gone befo' dis, but when I see dat Skinny settin' in to skin yo' I jest naterally had toe take a hand. Whatcher s'pose I handed yo' dat money fer?"
"But I haven't done anything wrong—nothing to run for," said Smart.
"Yo' try an' think straight a minute, cap. Yo' ain't got many friends here. Take my advice an' don't git pulled. De clink is mighty mean here. I don't know why I should take a shine toe yo' cap, but yo' shore did set in dat game ter win—an' yo' kin hit pretty straight, too."
"Gwan, before it's too late," said Journegan.
A rush of feet sounded in the street, followed by the hoarse voices of men nearing "The Cayo Huesso." The door of the saloon was suddenly burst open, and the marshal, with a posse of twenty men behind him, came into view.
"De window, cap," yelled Bahama Bill, and without waiting a moment he sprang through, carrying the sash and glass, shutters, and all with him.Through the opening Smart plunged instinctively, and as he did so he heard the sharp command to halt, followed by the crack of a gun. He had managed to get clear by a fraction of a second, and, landing upon his feet, started after the dark shadow which he knew was the black sailor making for the beach.
V
Down the road Captain Smart ran as fast as he could go, trying vainly to reach the tall form of the mate, who kept the lead easily until the lights of the harbour came into view. Then he slacked up and Smart came up with him.
"Dat sho was fun, hey?" laughed the mate, not the least winded from his dash for liberty. "Cost yo' a hundred dollars to git clear ef dey catch yo'. Dey don't run yo' in fer fun down here. Dat's deSea-Horse. Git inter dat small boat—so."
"How about Journegan? Will they fine him for the fracas?"
"Oh, no. He stands in wid de gang—pays fer de trouble he makes. Journegan is a good man—he's all right."
"He was with the crooks, was he?" asked Smart.
"Oh, yes, he thought you had money—he has to stand in wid de gang. He was mad as er hornet at me buttin' in, but jest couldn't help it. I'll square him some day, an' he knows it. If he didn't know it, he'd 'a' plugged me when dey jumped me. I reckon he c'u'd 'a' done it, all right, for he's a mighty fine shot,dat Journegan. But I sho had it in fer Skinny Ike—he done me onct."
"Seems like a pretty tough bunch of men along the bank here, don't it?" said Smart. "Journegan hinted that there was something done wrong to Mr. Dunn's yacht—he said she must have leaked—what?"
Bahama Bill stopped rowing the small boat. They were half-way to theSea-Horse, and lights were already showing along the shore, telling plainly that pursuit would be made in short order. The tide set them toward the vessel, but Bill gazed steadily at Smart through the darkness.
"Did Journegan say dat?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, and I would like to know what he meant by it."
"You know why he did all dat shootin'—all dat firin' to hit nobody? Dat was jest to get the place pulled—pulled before you made a gitaway, toe git your money. He knowed you an' me were enemies—knowed dat yo' had it in fer me, knowed dat I wrecked Mr. Dunn's yacht, an' dat yo' sho had no claim wid me—an' dat's where he made a mistake——"
"You wrecked the schooner?" cried Smart.
"Sho, cap, I dun wrecked her. Don't yo' remember de day—de night—I came abo'd, harpooned by a fool Yankee mate? Well, I was pullin' a seam dat night—dat's what made her leak——"
"You are a devil—the blackest rascal I ever met.You can take me ashore, I won't have anything more to do with you—turn about."
"Not a bit—no, suh. Yo' goes wid me dis trip, sho."
Smart hesitated not a moment, but sprang overboard and struck out for the shore, calling loudly for help.
Bahama Bill sat gazing after him for a moment, swearing deeply. Then he carefully shipped the oars, stood up, and the next moment plunged over the side after him. In a few rapid strokes he came up to the sailor. With one mighty arm he circled the swimmer, holding his arms to his sides as easily as though he were a child. With his other hand he struck out lustily for the sloop and gained her side, where two heads peered over looking at him.
"Pass a line, quick," he called.
A line dropped instantly over the side and fell within reach. Smart was quickly trussed and hoisted aboard and the mate climbed up after him.
"Put de mains'l on her—heave her short—jump!" bellowed Bahama Bill, at the same time casting off the gaskets from the boom and throwing the beckets off the wheel.
A Dutchman, Heldron by name, and a Conch called Sam, sprang to obey. The sail went quickly up with a clucking of blocks and snapping of canvas. Then in came the anchor, the three men hauling line with a will. One man loosed the jib while another sent it up with a rush, and just as the sweeping strokes ofa pursuing oar fell upon their ears theSea-Horsestood out the nor'west passage and to sea.
"Where's Sanders?" asked the mate.
"Oh, de cap'n, he dun take de mon' he get an' go to Tampa on de steamer this night. He say he goin' to do somet'in' to dem big hotels Mr. Flagler builds—dem dat run de gamblin'-houses. Won't be back fer a week."
"Cap," said Bahama Bill, casting Smart adrift, "yo' kin go below an' put dat money in de co'ner of de right-han' locker—no use yo' tryin' to swim away wid it. Yo' an' me is goin' to the Bank fer a bit o' work—dat's it, Sam, hook de boat as we come past—pass de painter aft, an' let her tow."
Smart saw that he was caught fair enough. To resist was only to make more trouble. He was broke, anyway, and without a berth. He might just as well try wrecking for a change—why not? Yes, he would go below and turn in without more ado. He had forgotten the money he had taken from the game at Journegan's, the money which belonged to the mate of theSea-Horse. No wonder Bahama Bill had jumped in after him and brought him aboard. It was easy to see that in spite of all Bill's apparent carelessness he took no chances as he saw them. TheSea-Horsewas standing out, and there was no chance of spending the night in the lockup. After all, it was pleasanter out here in the brisk sea air, even in the company of such men. He went slowly below.
"Turn in the po't bunk, cap," came the mate's big voice down the cuddy.
Smart did so, and he fell asleep while the wrecking-sloop rose and plunged into the short sea.
VI
"I reckon we're about dar, cap. Dem masts stickin' up yander air de fo' an' main' o' de brigBulldog. We skinned her clean, took a share ob de salvage, an' cleared fo' town." Thus spoke Bahama Bill, resting one hand upon the wheel-spokes to hold theSea-Horseand sprawling upon the deck. The sloop was approaching the edge of the Great Bahama Bank, and the shoaling water told of the coral bottom.
"Well, what are you going to stop here for, then?" asked Smart. Although he had decided to cast in his lot with Bahama Bill temporarily he was averse to wandering about on the oldSea-Horsefor any length of time. He was anxious to hunt a berth as navigator upon some ship of size. Nassau was close at hand, not fifty miles away, and there were many ships stopping there.
"I'll tell yo', cap—I'll tell yo' jest what I want yo' to do fer me," said the big black. He rounded the sloop to, and Sam let go the anchor, while the Dutchman Heldron hauled down the jib.
TheSea-Horsedropped back with the sweep of the current and wind, until she lay just over the mainmast of a sunken brig, which stuck out of the water at a slant, the top coming clear some twenty feet to portof her. The wreck was lying upon her bilge and heeled over at a sharp angle, the partners of the mainmast being about ten feet below the surface.
"I heard yo' tell Stormalong Journegan you'd been down in a diving-suit, de kind dey use in de No'th—hey? Yo' know about rubber suits an' pumps?" He looked keenly at Captain Smart while the seaman told him that he had heard aright. He had been in suits, and helped others diving in them. He thought he knew something about air-pumps.
The mate went below forward, and shortly came on deck with a complete rubber diving-suit, helmet, and weighted shoes.
"I don't go in much fer dis kind ob divin'," said he, "but I dun paid a fellow a hundred dollars fer de whole suit. Show me how to work it, an' show me how dat pump works. Ef yo' do, we'll go halves—break even—on what I think is below in dis hear wrack. I knowed yo' must know something erbout divin'—dat is, erbout rubber divin', which ain't divin' at all, but dat's what I want ter know."
"I thought you said the wreck was finished with?" Smart commented.
"All de money, all de coin was got out ob her, yas, suh, dat's all straight, but dishar wrack ain't been under water more'n a few months, an' I been thinkin' dat maybe some hard work would tell on some cases of ammunition left in her."
"What did she have?"
"Rifles, money, and provisions for Vensuela—some ob dem revolutionists had de charter. Dey took up de rifles, and dey took up de money, but dey left a lot ob ammunition in her, sayin' it ain't no good. Well, suh, I got a hole in mah shoulder where one ob dem bullets came troo—yo mind de little fracas at Stormalong's. I dun sold a feller a dozen boxes ob dem ca'tridges, de onliest .45's in Key West. Dat's de reason I cum to know somethin' about dem. Ef dey kin mak' a hole in me, dey kin mak' a hole in mos' enny one, I reckon—hey, what?"
"I see," said Smart. "And that's the reason you wanted me to help you out? You want me to help dive for the goods. How much is there—and how were they put up? They won't stay for ever any good under water, you know."
"Dey were put up in tins too big to handle, goin' naked like I dives. De cases were mighty big, an' I don't care much erbout smashin' 'em up wid de 'tarnal things ready to go off. I knows where dey is—way back in de lazarette 'way back aft, an' I knows dat dere's erbout a millun ob dem."
Smart had been overhauling the suit and found it to be in fair condition. Evidently some hard-up diver had sold out to Bahama Bill, who always went naked as deep as three or four fathoms, and could stay long enough under to do the ordinary work required of divers upon vessels on the reef. He could make two or three minutes' work at short intervals, and being a mighty man, the strain told upon him very little indeed.
The rubber part of the suit was just about right for a man of Smart's build. It would not begin to go upon the giant frame of Bahama Bill. The great mate of the wrecker very well knew it, and he knew also that he could never get any of his men to go down in it. They knew nothing about such gear, and the very sight of it filled them with dread. It was up to Captain Smart to make the effort, if effort there was to be made.
In the meantime Bahama Bill would go down once or twice to locate the place in the wreck to work upon. It would require careful work not to explode the cases in blowing out a hole in the bilge to make an entry; further, it was impossible to think of going down the hatchway aft, for the distance was too great.
It was upon this vessel that the mate of theSea-Horsehad had trouble before, being chased into her by a shark and barely escaping with his life. He knew her pretty well, and could locate the ammunition in a couple of dives. After that Smart could take his time in four fathoms and work the stuff out to hoist aboard, using as little dynamite as possible.
"How about the pump?" asked Smart, after he had overhauled the suit.
The machine was brought on deck. It was dirty and much out of order, but after an hour's work he had it so it could be relied upon for the shallow water. For greater pressure than four fathoms he would not have cared to test it with himself upon the bottom.
While he was refitting it the mate stripped andstood upon the rail ready for the plunge. The water was clear and the bottom could plainly be seen, the varicoloured marine growths making it most beautiful.
Bahama Bill dropped outboard, and went down with a plunge so light that he hardly disturbed the surface. The others, watching, saw him swim rapidly down under the bends of the wrecked ship, leaving a thin trail of bubbles.
He was only down a few moments this dive, and came rising rapidly to the surface, his ugly face showing through the clear liquid, his eyes wide open and gazing upward.
"Gimme a piece ob chalk, Sam," he said, as he came into the air again.
A piece was handed him, and he went below again and marked the spot where the hole would be blown in the vessel's side, and in the meantime Smart donned the diving-suit.
The Dutchman Heldron had never even seen a suit of this kind before, and his messmate Sam gazed at it with a sort of superstitious dread.
"Yo' sure ain't goin' under in that outfit, cap?" he protested, as Smart put on the shoes weighing fully twenty pounds apiece. "Man, them slippers will sure hold you to the bottom!"
"I guess you dummies will have sense enough to haul me up when I pull the line and signal," remarked Smart. "Now, give me the helmet and screw down these bolts." He had the head-piece on by the timeBahama Bill came on deck and surveyed the proceedings.
"I'll have to trust you to tend the lines," said Smart to the black giant. "Remember, now, one strong pull and you haul me up—not quickly unless I give three quick pulls afterward. Two pulls is to slack away, one on the hose is to give me more air, and two to give me less. Understand?"
Bahama Bill wiped the water out of his bleary eyes and nodded. He apparently had some misgivings about the concern, but he was far too careless of human life to express them. He coupled up the air-hose and started the pump, and the whistling inside the helmet told of the wind coming in behind the diver's head.
Smart held the front glass ready, and after being satisfied that the machine was working, he had Sam screw it on and Captain Smart was cut off from the wrecker's crew, his face showing dimly through the thick glass plate. The heavy leaden belt was fastened tightly about his waist and he stepped over the rail on to the little side ladder, and so overboard, letting himself slowly down until he swung clear of the sloop's side. Then he was lowered away and went to the bottom, Bahama Bill slacking off the life-line and hose until he saw him standing upon the coral bank some twenty-five feet below the wrecker's deck.
Heldron turned the air-pump and Sam made fast the charge of dynamite, fixing the wires of a "Farmer's Machine" into the mercury-exploder and wrapping the whole tightly in canvas made fast with marline, the whole weighted so that it would sink quickly.
He lowered the charge, and saw Smart's hand go out and receive it. Then the diver disappeared under the bilge of the wreck, leaving a thin trail of boiling water just over his head to tell of the escapement of the air.
VII
Having fixed the charge where the mate had marked the surface of the wreck, Smart started to walk away. The light was strong in the clear water, and he gazed about him at the beautiful coral formations. The heavy growths took on many-coloured hues, and he walked out among them to admire them as one would the scenery on shore.
An albacore darted past like a flash of silver light. In the shadow of a huge sponge an enormous grouper took shelter, his eyes sticking out and gazing unwinkingly at the apparition of the man upon the bottom.
Smart went toward him and gave him a gentle poke, and in doing so gave the lines a sudden jerk. Instantly he was lifted off his feet and drawn upward, for Bahama Bill had felt the pull, and lost no time hauling his man aboard. Luckily the depth was not great, or the sudden change of pressure would have hurt.
Smart came to the side gesticulating wildly, and the more he waved his hands the quicker he was yankedup. In a moment the mate had him on deck, and was unscrewing the front glass.
"What's de matter, cap?" he asked anxiously, when the diver's face appeared.
"Nothing; you fellows make me tired!" said Smart. "Go ahead and fire the charge."
The spark was sent along the wire, and a dull crack sounded from below. The water rose in a boiling mass astern, and spread out, churning and bubbling. It was not a large charge, and it had not been necessary to move the sloop.
Smart started Heldron again at the pump, and screwed on the glass. Then, taking his tools and a line, he went back to the work below.
The hole blown in the wrecked hull was quite large for the amount of powder used, but the splintered edges made it necessary to be careful on entering, on account of the air-hose and line. A swirling of disturbed water still made the light bad, but Smart, feeling the edges with his hand, stepped within the darkness, and proceeded to explore the interior of the lost ship.
He climbed slowly upward, dragging his lines after him, and stumbling over a mass of timber which obstructed the way. He was in the after-part of the brig, the part where the dead wood, narrowing toward the stern-post, made a difficult passage to go through. He went along carefully, feeling for dangerous projections which might entangle his air-hose. The ammunition was supposed to be in the lazarette, underthe cabin flooring, and he made his way in this direction.
Owing to the darkness, he was some time locating anything in the way of cases. Finally, however, he felt the square ends of boxes, and made haste to break one open. There were cans of tomatoes, or some kind of food, in the first one, and he felt along farther. Then he came in contact with a bulkhead. As it was inky dark below in the bilge of the sunken ship, he had to do all his work by means of the sense of touch alone. He couldn't see his own hand upon the glass of his helmet.
Something brushed against him and nearly upset him. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling, and a longing for the sunshine upon the sea floor of the Bank. He was not of a nervous temperament, and he knew that some sea denizen had evidently made the brig his home. Perhaps some spawning grouper or huge jew-fish.
Feeling along the bulkhead, he came upon a lot of small boxes. One of these he took under his arm and backed slowly out of the hole and into the clear water of the Bank. He laid the box upon the sea floor, and broke the covering with his hammer, hitting it lightly, the resisting power of the surrounding medium making it difficult even to strike at all. He tore away the fragments of the lid, and saw rows of cartridge-clips, the whole fixed and packed carefully. Making fast a line to the case, he signalled to hoist away, and brought his find to the surface.
The stuff proved to be all right. On breaking open a cartridge, the powder appeared dry, in spite of the long submergence, showing how carefully the ammunition had been put up. The dipping of the bullets into tallow had made the cartridges absolutely airtight, and they were as good as new.
The usual cost of ammunition was about two cents per cartridge wholesale. Half a million rounds would make quite a fortune, or something in the neighbourhood of ten thousand dollars to divide between himself and the black mate. Yes, it had been worth while, after all. Wrecking was not such a bad thing, if there was anything worth wrecking, and he wondered how the salvors of the brig had overlooked such a valuable asset. Even if he had to divide with the former owners—which he probably would not—he would have something worth going below for.
"Git de stuff—we'll ship him to Noo York," said Bill. "Ought to cl'ar a bit on dis hear deal. Dey's got de Winchester mark on dem, an' dat goes wid de agents, so do de Union ca'tridge. Git de stuff outen her, cap, fo' we cayn't stay here long—it's comin' on bad befo' dark, an' dere'll be too much sea to work ag'in fer a week."
Smart lost no time getting back to the lazarette of the brig. He took his line with him, and, after fastening it to some of the cases, he signalled to haul away.
Case after case he removed in this manner, and, after being below nearly an hour, he began to feel the effects of the pressure. He concluded to go up andrest for a short time before finishing the job. He hauled a lot of boxes together and lashed them firmly with a line, and signalled to haul away. He felt the pull, the tautening of the rope, and the cases slipped from under his hand. He straightened up and started to follow.
Then he felt the whole side of the ship suddenly fall toward him. It seemed like a mass of stuff, chest upon chest, toppling down upon him, and, before he could make even the slightest movement to get away, the whole pile of cases rolled over him like a great wave.
He was thrown upon his back, and a heavy weight rested upon the lower part of his body. He tried to move, and found himself jammed fast. Feeling nervously for his life-line and hose, he saw they were clear. He would not suffocate for awhile, anyway. He pulled lustily upon his life-line, and felt the strain of Bill's strength upon it, but it failed to move him. He was afraid the line would cut into his suit with the enormous strain.
He pulled the signal to slack away, but the men above were evidently excited, and they pulled all the harder. Then came a sudden slacking. He reached up and drew in the end of the life-line. It had parted near his helmet.
In the blackness of the sunken wreck Smart felt his nerve going. It was a bad place to have trouble. There was no other suit, no other machine or outfit for a man to go to his assistance. He might live foran hour longer, or perhaps even two, but the end seemed certain unless he could free himself from the mass of cargo which had so suddenly piled down upon him.
It had been one of those accidents which are likely to happen to any one working in the darkness of a ship's hold where the cargo is not known, or not located by previous knowledge of the ship's loading.
He had evidently unshipped some of the ammunition-cases, and brought a mass of boxes of both provisions and cartridges upon him like an avalanche. His right arm was free, but his left was crushed under some mighty weight, and hurt him painfully. The air still whistled into his head-piece, showing that Heldron was working the pump steadily.
Bahama Bill was a cool hand, a man used to desperate emergencies, and Smart felt that the giant mate of theSea-Horsewould do what he could to set him free. He knew the black diver to be a mighty swimmer. He had cause to remember that fact, but it was far away from the surface where he now lay, and it looked as if he would have to pass in, to die the terrible death of the lost diver.
His imagination held him thinking, in spite of the pain and weight upon him. He could breathe easily, and the numbing effect of the pressure made his sufferings less than otherwise. He tried again and again to shift some of the cases, straining until the stars flashed into the darkness before him. It was useless. He could not budge anything.
The minutes seemed hours, and he began at last to feel the drowsy effect of the air too long driven into his lungs. He saw the beach, the white coral sand—then he was again at Key West.
VIII
Upon the deck of theSea-Horsethe men gazed blankly at each other when Bahama Bill hauled up the life-line, parted far below. Heldron stopped pumping, and Sam gave an exclamation.
"Keep dat pump workin'; keep it goin', I tell yo'," snapped the black mate, turning upon his man.
Heldron instantly turned away again, rapidly, sending the air below.
"Name ob de Lord—now whatcher make wid dat?" said Bill, looking at Sam.
"Gone fer sure," said Sam. "I wouldn't go down in them lead shoes for no money. I done knowed something like this would happen."
"I t'ink I don't need to give no more air, den," said Heldron.
"You turn dat pump, yo' blamed Dutchman, or I'll turn yo' hide wrong-side out, yo' hear me," snarled the mate. "Gimme a heavy line, Sam; gimme something I can't break—jump, yo' Conch!"
"Goin' after him?" asked Sam, hauling the end of the mainsheet clear to the rail. "I don't think you kin get him. Better leave him down; them shoes is enough to hold him. I'd hate to lose the cap'n, but he's gone for sure!"
The huge form of the mate balanced for an instant upon the rail. He cleared enough line to take to the bottom, and had Sam stand with coils of it ready to pay out. Then down he went with the end of it, swimming strongly for the hole in the bilge of the brig. The opening showed before him, but he hesitated not a moment. He swam straight into the black hole, butting his head against the carlines under the half-deck, but keeping straight as he could for the diver by following the air-hose with his hand.
It was a long swim to the place where Smart lay. A full minute had been taken up before the mate felt the contact of the metal helmet. He passed the heavy line under it, but found his wind giving way under the strain. Quickly following the air-hose out, he struggled for the clear water, and came to the surface with a blow like a grampus. He had been down two minutes and a half.
Sam seized his hand and helped him aboard, where he lay upon the deck, bleeding, a slight trickle from the corner of his ugly mouth and from his nose.
"You can't make it, Bill," Sam declared. "Let the poor devil go. You done the best you could."
"I stop now wid de air, hey? Wat you says, Mr. Bill?"
Heldron's query aroused Bahama Bill. "If you slack up on dat pump, yo' dies a wuss death 'n Cap'n Smart," he said wearily, and in an even tone. It was evident that the strain had been hard on him, but he was game.
In a minute he sat up.
"I get him dis hear time," he growled, shaking himself and standing upon the rail again.
His giant black body twitched, the huge muscles under the ebony skin worked, flowing, contracting, and slacking up, making a wavelike motion, but showing the mighty power which lay in his frame. He was getting worked up to a nervous pitch, and the trembling was not from weakness. It was the gathering power in his thews which was beginning to work.
He flung far out, and dropped straight downward with a pitch-pole plunge, going furiously down like some monstrous sea-demon. Only a flash of his black body showed before he had turned the bend, and was following the air-hose into the hole.
This time he saved many seconds. He reached the form of Smart, and caught the end of the mainsheet about him, quickly slipping a hitch. Then he hauled himself out into the sunshine again, and came rising like a fish to the surface. In a moment he was back aboard theSea-Horse, and then he spoke.
"Git on to dat line, yo', Sam ... git hold quick ... I got him ... give him de air, yo' Dutchman. ... An' now fer a heave what is a heave."
With a mighty effort the two men threw their whole weight upon the line. It held. Nothing gave for a moment. Bahama Bill, bracing his naked feet upon the rail, bent his mighty loins, and took a deep breath.
"Heave-ho!" he bellowed, and set his muscles to the strain.
Sam lifted with all his force. Almost instantly the two of them plunged backward, and fell over each other on deck. The line became slack, but before they could get to their feet, Heldron had left the pump and was hauling in hand-over-hand, and in a moment the form of Smart showed below the surface.
The black mate sprang to his feet and gave the Dutchman a cuff which sent him over the side, and, seizing the line, he hauled the limp form of the diver on deck quicker than it takes to tell it. In a moment he had the glass off the helmet, and was staring into the white face of the insensible seaman.
"Get somethin' to drink—quick," he said.
Sam rushed for a dipper of water, and, upon bringing it, was knocked over the head with it for his pains.
"Yo' bring me somethin'—quick—yo' understand," roared the mate. "I knows yo' got some forrads—now, then, jump!"
Sam quickly brought a bottle of gin, half-full. Smart had some of the fiery liquid poured between his lips. Then Heldron, who had scrambled back aboard, cursing and spluttering, came aft, and helped them to get off the suit.
It was half an hour afterward before the captain came around enough to tell what had happened. His left arm was badly mashed, but not broken. The heavy suit had not been cut through, and to this facthe owed his life. His legs were stiff and sore from the heavy weight which had lain upon them, but he was otherwise uninjured.
"I reckon yo'll be able to go down ag'in in a little while," said the mate. "We got most of the stuff, I reckon, but we might as well take all dat's dere."
"How many cases have we?" asked Smart.
"'Bout fifty—nearly a million rounds, an' all good."
"Well, that's all we'll get to-day," said Smart, "unless you want to take a try at it."