"Hey, there! Wake up, Holly!"
Mart pounded on his chum's door again, as a sleepy answer came from within. The night mists had been gone for an hour, and the sun was flooding the lagoon with light and warmth, but Mart was more excited than the early hour warranted.
"Hurry up there, Holly!" he urged, pounding again. "Get a move on! Something's happened!"
"What?" sounded the question.
"Never mind till you see it. Get your duds on and get out here."
After thirty seconds more the half-dressed figure of Bob appeared at the door. Mart seized him by the arm and jerked him out. Bob stared in wonder, for Mart's strong, determined face was filled with grief and anger.
"What's struck you, Mart?"
"Come along and see."
With which enigmatic response Mart led the way forward and up to the bridge. Two of the Kanakas were on watch, but Mart passed direct to the wireless house, with the wondering Bob close behind.
"Now, look at that," exclaimed Mart, standing by the table and waving his hand toward the wireless outfit. "Look at it real close, Holly."
Bob advanced, puzzled. The silence cabinet in which was enclosed the transmitting apparatus, had been forced open, and even the unmechanical Bob could see at a glance that something had been disarranged, or worse.
"Look at her!" exclaimed Mart bitterly. "Wires out and gone, and everything busted that would bust—why, they must have gone through her with an axe! Holly, this wireless was busted a-purpose, and someone aboard theSeamewdid it!"
"Is she badly smashed?" queried Bob, who was startled by the news without quite comprehending what it meant.
"I haven't had a chance to look yet. But say, Holly! Don't you see what it means? There's someone aboard here who wants to cut us off from connection with everything—and he didn't know much about wireless, either. The aerials ain't touched. Let's see—"
Mart began to investigate feverishly, but Bob stood transfixed as he finally realized what this destruction portended. Then, as he gazed down at the kneeling figure of his chum, his face flooded with anger and he turned and went out to the forward end of the bridge. The Kanakas were lolling below in the sun, and Bob woke them sharply.
"Call all hands and send Mr. Smith here."
At the unwonted note of authority in his voice, the Kanakas jumped. Five minutes later the whole crew poured up, thronging the foredeck, while old Jerry came up to the bridge in mild astonishment.
"Come back here," ordered Bob briefly, in reply to his queries, and led the old quartermaster hack to the wireless house.
"Now, Jerry," he said, "last night someone broke in there and went through the wireless outfit with an axe. How about it, Mart! Much damaged?"
"Clean smashed up, Holly," groaned Mart from his position beside the cabinet, where he was investigating the helix. "Everything's busted. She's ruined."
"Get to work, Jerry," commanded Bob curtly. "You're responsible. Now find out who did it—"
"How do you know it was done last night, lads?" inquired Jerry softly. "When was you up here last, if I may ask?"
Bob glanced at Mart, who was rising. They found that neither of them had been up since early the previous morning when Mart had sent a message through the Nederland boat. At this Jerry suggested that one of the Malays had possibly stolen up while their prau was waiting alongside for the captain, the day before, and had stolen what he could find. The Malays had a fondness for wire, he went on to say.
"Mebbe," said Mart suspiciously. "You get busy and investigate here first. I don't take much stock in your suggestions."
With an injured air, Jerry retraced his steps and put the crew through a stiff examination, but nothing was brought to light. It finally proved that the Malay explanation was the most plausible one, simply for lack of other evidence, and although Bob and Mart were both furious, they could do nothing. Once they were alone in the cabin, however, Mart winked mysteriously at his chum.
"Say, Holly, I was putting up a bluff on you for Jerry's benefit. That wireless ain't wrecked, not by a jugfull! Whoever did it was too plumb ignorant to do the job right. I can fix her up, but it'll take time. Now, you lay low and let on like she's busted for good. If one o' the men did it, and finds it ain't busted, he's liable to go after our aerials, which would sure dish things for us, see?"
Bob nodded thoughtfully.
"Good for you, Mart. Well, you wait an' see what happens when dad gets back, that's all I have to say."
He had no chance to say more, indeed, for a trampling of feet on the deck, and the sound of voices, apprised them that the diving was about to commence. They at once set aside all other thoughts, agreed to forget the wireless for the time being, and hurried on deck to watch operations. At Bob's suggestion Mart brought along a couple of the thirty-thirty rifles, in case they should see any further signs of the Pirate Shark.
They had already made sure that the Kanakas knew the danger of diving here in the lagoon, but one and all the brown-skinned men had laughed at the very name of shark, patting their sheath knives and assuring the boys that they were used to killing sharks as a form of exercise. Size made no difference, it appeared, so the boys made no more objections.
Four of the Kanakas had stripped and stood on the gangway landing, holding to lines and weights, while the rest of the crew clustered about the rail and Jerry gave them instructions as to depth and bottom and what to look for. Then the men grinned, put their knives between their teeth, and slipped off into the water.
After a minute they reappeared, merely took breath, and vanished again. This time they were down well over a minute, then shot up to the surface together and piled on to the landing, their brown bodies glistening in the sun. The boys went down the ladder and joined Jerry in getting the reports of the divers.
These all agreed that the yacht lay directly over an old wreck, which was so overgrown that it seemed little more than a huge rock. One of the men had brought up a sliver of wood in proof of the story, however, and at sight of it Jerry nodded, satisfied.
"There she is, lads—eight fathoms down! Mystery o' the sea, lads—mystery o' the sea, and us up above here in the sun!"
The boys kept a sharp lookout for the shark, but he was not to be seen, and the Kanakas declared there was nothing alarming to be seen underneath the surface. Now it was that Jerry had Dailey and Birch bring down the diving outfits to the landing, and he briefly ordered the Kanakas to don them and go down.
To the surprise of all, the Kanakas refused. They looked with some suspicion on the heavy boots and copper helmet, declaring that they felt safer without all these things and were perfectly willing to go down as often as was wished.
At this Jerry carefully explained that such work would not do, that he wanted the wreck explored, and that it was necessary for a man to be down for a long period to do this successfully. The Kanakas still balked, however, and when Jerry grew furious and ordered one of them flatly to get into the diving dress, Bob interposed.
"None o' that, Jerry. The men are right. If you want someone to go down, pick out one of your own men—Birch or Dailey there."
The Scotch engineer, standing up above, burst out laughing. Birch promptly denied all interest in the wreck.
"Not me, sir! I ain't no diver, nor shark fighter neither. If anyone's to go down, let the quartermaster go down, I says!"
"That's right," grinned Mart maliciously. "You climb into one of the suits, Jerry! Mebbe your old friend the Pirate Shark is waiting for you to show up."
Jerry chuckled and wagged his white head in solemn refusal, while those above made fun of him unrestrainedly. Finally Jerry scratched his head and gazed up at the men lining the rail.
"Dailey," he ordered, "see to gettin' out two o' the boats. Yorke, you an' Birch an' Borden come down to the after cabin. I'll learn ye who's master aboard here!"
He chuckled again, and beckoned to the boys to follow, which they did. Dailey ran to the bridge deck with a squad of Kanakas and as Mart went below he heard the davits creaking, and saw one of the boats descending to the water.
Jerry vouchsafed no explanation of his ordered consultation until the three men in question had come down to the cabin where he and the boys waited. Mart detected something strange in the old man's manner, and the instant the men came down he saw an insolent expression on Birch's face that he did not understand. He was soon to understand it, however, with a good many other things.
"Now, comrades, what had best be done?" asked Jerry. "These here lads don't want us to make the Kanakas go down, and you don't want to go down neither. Our dynamite's gone, so I asks you again, what's to be done?"
Yorke leered with his twisted mouth.
"Take a rope's end to the Kanakas, Shark. Ain't you master aboard here?"
"Aye, that I am, Yorke, but owners is owners."
Jerry chuckled again, which disarmed Bob's anger. Mart was watching the four men anxiously. Their attitude puzzled him, for the seamen were undoubtedly insolent, but Jerry seemed to pay no attention; and the old quartermaster was usually a stickler for sea etiquette.
"Are you sure the Pirate Shark's down there, Jerry?" asked Bob suddenly. "Don't you think he's gone out to sea—"
"No, no, lad, he lives down there—eight fathom down, in the wreck, with the fish all around and us up above."
"He didn't go after the Kanakas," persisted Bob skeptically.
"You're right, lad, he didn't—'cause why, he knowed better, he did! He's waitin' till a diver goes down, lads—a real diver wi' the shoes an' helmet, as can't swim about like the Kanakas. I'll go down myself."
"What!"
The cry of surprise broke from men and boys alike, but Jerry nodded, his jaw set and his old face showing a sudden angry determination.
"Yes. I'll go down, wi' some kind o' weapon, and I'll—"
"Take that kris of mine!" shouted Bob eagerly.
"Stow your jaw!" The one-eyed Birch turned on them roughly and threateningly, to Mart's amazement. "Jerry, stop this fooling. What you goin' to do with these kids, eh?"
"Let them go down," broke in Borden, a malicious expression on his wrinkled face. "Let 'em go down, Jerry, to the wreck."
"Shut up!" Jerry straightened up. So swiftly had this dialogue passed that the two boys had hardly realized its import, when the old quartermaster shook his fist at Birch. "Shut up, I say! Them boys ain't a-goin' to be hurt, understand? Nor they ain't goin' to hurt us neither; I'll see to that. Borden, you and Yorke go up and lay that engineer in irons in the forehold. Birch, get hold o' Dailey and take a gun to them Kanakas till they agree to go down. This here is business, and I'm boss. So step lively."
The men obeyed quickly, for Jerry's gentle face was transformed into furious energy. The two boys, however, leaped forward with an angry cry as the meaning of his orders broke on them.
"See here," exclaimed Mart, taking the old man by the shoulder and whirling him around to face them. "What's this mean anyhow?"
"You're crazy with the heat, Jerry," added Bob angrily. "This isn't any pirate—"
Jerry, with unexpected strength, put a hand on each of their chests and flung them back with seeming ease. When they recovered, his blue eyes were blazing and a revolver showed in his hand.
"Now, lads," he said in his soft, penetrating voice, "I like you, I do, and I'm takin' care o' you. You heard what old Borden said, eh? 'Let 'em go down to the wreck,' he said, lads, but not me. No, old Jerry likes you, an' you ain't a-goin' to be hurt."
"Why—why, blame it all, what do you mean?" gasped Mart.
"He's puttin' up a joke on us, Mart," grinned Bob. Jerry chuckled.
"Joke, eh? Look ye here, lads. Up back at the village yonder, the cap'n and Joe Swanson is took care of in a hut. They're safe enough, but they're took care of. That's why I went ashore first, to see my friends. This here yacht belongs to me, lads, until we get up the treasure out o' the wreck. Then me and the rest, we'll be off all shipshape and Bristol fashion, we will, and no one won't be hurt. Understand that, lads?"
Mart stared. But there was no denying the earnestness of the old man. Then over both boys flashed the whole thing—the three old men plotting at Waikiki, the different snatches of talk they had heard, everything that pointed to the same end. Jerry and his comrades had seized theSeamew.
"You mean you're a gang of pirates?" asked Bob, paralyzed with astonishment.
"That's it, lads," chuckled Jerry calmly. "You ain't to be hurt so long's you keep quiet, lads. Pirates it is—the fish down below and us up here above, lads. But when we've got the treasure out o' the wreck, we'll set the cap'n free and leave you wi' the ship. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales!"
And with that Jerry turned and ascended the companion, revolver in hand.
The boys sank into chairs, stunned. Their wildest dreams had fallen short of this terrible reality, and when it finally faced them they were staggered by it. Captain Hollinger and Swanson prisoners ashore; the yacht in the hands of pirates!
"Mart, it—it's awful!" blurted out Bob, white-faced. "Jerry must have meant to do this all along! What if dad—"
"Buck up, Holly," said Mart cheeringly, though he felt a terrible dismay within him. "Your dad ain't in any danger. Jerry went ashore to arrange with the natives to hold him, or to keep him out after tigers. He's all right, and Swanson's with him."
"Looks like Swanson wouldn't join 'em," replied Bob dully. "Maybe they'll kill 'em both, Mart."
"Nonsense!" Mart forced himself to brace up, in order to overcome his friend's hopeless despair. "Jerry's fixed this whole thing so's to kill nobody, Bob. That's easy to see. All he's after is the treasure that he thinks is down there in the wreck. When he gets that, he and the rest will light out with it, that's all. They're not the old kind of pirates. They're bad enough, but they've got too much sense to murder anyone."
Under this sensible view of the situation Bob began to take a more cheerful outlook, for he was more worried about his father than himself. The broken wireless was now explained, and although Mart thought that he could repair it, that would be out of the question at present. They agreed that their best plan would be to accept things quietly, but that Mart should get the wireless in shape at the first opportunity. He knew their position, and if he could send out one call for help it would undoubtedly be answered, as there were plenty of ships in these waters.
There was a tramping of feet on the deck, with loud shouts, and the boys awoke from their lethargy of despair. It suddenly occurred to Bob that they might arm the Kanakas and retake the ship, but upon searching for Captain Hollinger's rifles, they found all vanished. Beyond a doubt, Jerry and his men had confiscated the weapons and with them could easily hold the Kanakas in check.
The only weapon remaining was an old elephant gun which Mart found in a locker. It was a brute of a rifle, more like a cannon in appearance, and there was no ammunition for it; in fact, Bob explained that his father only kept it as a curiosity, and it was quite useless. Mart laid it down, giving up thoughts of resistance.
"Let's see if they'll let us up on deck, Holly."
"Sure. Jerry ain't afraid of us, Mart. He knows we're helpless."
The discouraged Bob led the way up the companion. They reached the deck with no opposition, and found Jerry and his mates in complete possession. Up forward, the Kanakas were huddled in an angry but helpless mass under the rifles of Dailey and Birch, while Borden and Yorke were just carrying the body of the Scotch engineer into the forecastle. There was blood on the man's brow and he was heavily ironed, which proved that he had not gone down without resistance.
The boys stood where they were, watching. Jerry had led one of the Kanakas to the gangway and was endeavoring to force him to don the diving outfit. But, although the old quartermaster's face was terrible in its rage, with his white hair flying free and his blue eyes flashing fire, the Kanaka stolidly refused, even when Jerry placed his pistol against the brown chest of the man.
For a moment the boys thought Jerry would murder him, but Birch intervened with the suggestion that they send down four of the Kanakas again to see how the wreck lay. To this Jerry assented, as did the Kanakas themselves, and Dailey sang out that two praus were coming out of the river toward them.
Jerry at once put Birch in charge of the gangway landing and the four men who were diving, and without paying any heed to the boys, assembled his mates for a brief conference, at the ladder.
"No use tryin' to force the Kanakas," declared Yorke. "I know 'em, Shark Smith, and so do you. They'll never put on that divin' dress, not if we flogged 'em."
"Yorke's right," spoke up Borden. "Send 'em ashore, Jerry. Send 'em ashore in the praus, and the engineer with 'em."
"Yes," added Dailey with an oath, and a black look toward the boys. "And put them two kids ashore, too, Jerry."
"What are you afraid of, mates?" Jerry chuckled and tipped Mart a wink. "Them lads stay here, mates—hostages, they are. They can't do us no hurt, and the cap'n won't neither while we hold his son. See? But we'll send them Kanakas ashore, mates. I'll arrange wi' the Malays to hold the crowd safe for a couple o' weeks, then we'll be off an' gone to Saigon in the boats, wi' the treasure."
Mart glanced at Bob, and the boys exchanged a sickly grin. The reason for old Jerry's clemency now became evident. With Bob in his hands, he well knew that he was safe from any effort on the part of Captain Hollinger to retake the vessel, even should the captain and Swanson escape.
Upon this the mutineers agreed, and save for the four Kanakas who were now engaged in diving, the others were summoned aft to the landing and bound securely, one by one. The boys advanced to the rail, and were watching for the reappearance of the four brown bodies in the water, when Jerry gave a yell and leaped down to the landing in a perfect frenzy, shaking his fist and cursing, apparently at nothing.
"Good heavens, Bob!" gasped Mart. "Look at the water!"
Gazing down, the boys felt suddenly sick. For up through the water was rising a red stain, and even as they looked, they saw the figures of three men come shooting up in wild fear. The brown bodies leaped for the landing and dragged themselves up—and as they did so the two boys distinctly saw a great gray shape, so huge that it appeared monstrous, sweep past underneath the ship.
"By juniper!" exclaimed Bob weakly. "Did you see that, Mart!"
Mart nodded and turned away, unable to speak. He knew only too well that one of the Kanakas had been caught by the shark, and the giant size of the terrible fish was too plainly attested by the panic of the other Kanakas, who were shivering and gray with fright. That red stain and the giant shadow in the water were destined to remain in the boys' dream for many a day.
The chattering natives were somewhat relieved from their panic when the two praus shot alongside the gangway and Jerry held animated converse with his friend the headman of the village. Their words were unintelligible, but from Jerry's satisfied air the boys made out that his plans must have gone well, and that the captain and mate were by this time prisoners, or safely hunting tiger somewhere in the jungle.
More fruit was brought aboard, and Jerry presented the headman with one of Captain Hollinger's cherished rifles, to Bob's wrath. After this, the bound Kanakas were taken aboard the two praus, the still unconscious but not badly hurt engineer was carried down, to join his chief on shore with the captain and mate, and the praus shoved off.
Thus there were left on board the yacht only the boys, Jerry and his four mates, and Ah Sing, the Chinese steward. Ah Sing had gained a glimpse of the proceedings and had promptly barricaded himself in his quarters, where he took to burning joss sticks in wild panic. As he would make no answer either to Jerry or the boys, Mart and Bob set to work getting something to eat, for it was getting well on toward noon, and the occupation would at least keep their minds busy.
Although some of the men flung them occasional black looks, the death of the Kanaka and that fleeting vision of the giant shark had sobered everyone tremendously. Not until the men had gathered in the mess-saloon—for they were making free with the officers' quarters, though they had touched nothing except the rifles and revolvers—and had stowed away some of the tinned provisions and hot coffee that the boys provided, did their spirits seem to rise. Jerry had been remarkably silent, but he thawed out over the coffee.
"Well, what next?" queried the one-eyed Birch, leaning back in his chair and lighting one of Captain Hollinger's cigars, as did the rest. "Now we're rid o' the Kanakas, mates, and the ship's ours, what next, I asks?"
"Jerry's the cap'n now," grinned Dailey. "How about it, Shark Smith?"
"I'm a-goin' down after that there Pirate Shark," announced Jerry, his mouth grim and set. He seemed to enjoy the consternation of the others hugely. "Now look ye here, mates. We've lost that dynamite. The only way to get at the treasure is to kill that there shark. He's mine, an' I'm a-goin' to kill him, mates. Bob, lad, you'll lend old Jerry that 'ere kris, won't you?"
The old man's lack of fear, or rather his stubborn determination to kill the Pirate Shark, was amazing. There was something about the gentle-faced old quartermaster, in spite of his plotting and his villainy, which attracted the boys—perhaps it was merely because he professed to like them. That he really cared nothing about them, except as hostages, they knew very well; he was caring for them in order to save his own skin.
However, Jerry soon proved that his brains were working as fast and as surely as ever. He listened to the protestations and arguments of the others unmoved, and at last brought down his fist with decision, until the dishes rattled in their skids.
"Mates, and you, lads, look ye here. That shark, I says, has had one good meal to-day, ain't that so? Well, he's a wise un, he is. He'll know that no more divers'll come down after he's gobbled one, so he won't hang around waitin'. He'll mebbe go off to take a stroll, like.
"All I want, mates, is to get inside that there wreck, with that kris in my hand. Then if he comes at me, why, he can't get at me, d'ye see! So long as a man's got his back to a wall, wi' solid bottom under him, a shark can't get him. It's when he's goin' down or comin' up that the shark can come along an' tip him over an' cut his lines and end him, mates."
This argument was plausible, and impressed all with its good sense. However, that did not remove the danger. It was highly probable that the shark was still hanging under the shadow of theSeamewwaiting for more divers, and Jerry's courage did not alter matters in that respect.
The Kanakas had reported that the bottom was coral rock, and that the wreck seemed to be lying on its side, with gaping openings through the deck where the masts had been. During the discussion that followed Jerry's expressed plan, it was decided that if the ship was indeed an old galleon, she might have lodged on the rocks and split apart under the action of the currents, which would account for the openings in her decks. She was so overgrown with marine life, the Kanakas had said, that little could be made out during their short visits below the surface.
"No use talking, mates," declared Jerry obstinately, "I'm a-goin' down, and the sooner the better. Mates, you 'tend the pumps and keep watch for any sign o' that there black fin. If you see it, haul up. Bob, lad, lend me that 'ere kris, will you?"
As Jerry was plainly set upon the undertaking, there was nothing for it but to assent, which the other men did with bad grace. All tramped out on deck at once, and while Bob departed for the kris, Mart followed to the landing. As he did so, he noted that while the men still wore revolver belts, they had left their rifles at the head of the ladder. Jerry noticed it also, and paused.
"Yorke," he ordered abruptly, "you stand by wi' one o' them guns, in case I come up wi' the Pirate Shark after me. If you get a shot at him, take it and haul away."
Yorke nodded and remained on deck beside Mart, while the others went down the ladder to the landing with Jerry. Here the two diving suits had been laid out that morning, together with the wooden box containing the pumps. The hose and lifelines had already been connected, and all was prepared for a descent.
As Jerry began getting into the neck of the huge rubber dress, he cautioned the others against pulling him up too fast, for even in eight fathoms there is danger from the sudden lessening of air-pressure should the diver be hauled up rapidly. At this juncture Bob reappeared with his kris, which was handed down to the men below.
The two boys stood watching, a dozen feet from Yorke, who leaned carelessly on his rifle. Jerry struggled into the dress by slow degrees, for the sun was burning hot, then got the cuffs clipped tightly about his wrists while Dailey and Birch fastened on the heavy corselet. The sixteen-pound boots came next, and very comical indeed the old quartermaster looked, with his white hair blowing in the wind and his blue eyes as eager and lively as those of Bob himself.
Then Borden helped him into the huge copper helmet and screwed it on fast, while Dailey and Birch went to the pumps and began to turn the two handles. Jerry had not yet closed the front window of the helmet, and now his voice came for the last time.
"Well, good-bye, mates and lads! Here's for the treasure o' the Pirate Shark!"
With that he closed his helmet and seized the kris, waved a hand at the pumping men, and calmly stepped off the landing while Borden paid out the air hose and lifelines. For an instant the two boys stared down at the flashing shape in the water, then Bob felt a tug at his arm and met the excited eyes of his chum.
"Go get that old elephant gun," ordered Mart in a whisper. "Quick! Step soft!"
Bob departed without protest, after one wondering look, and Mart set himself to wait as patiently as might be. His own nerves, as well as those of the men, were on edge; they were all under a tremendous strain, for none of them expected ever to see Jerry alive again, so deeply was the fear of the Pirate Shark ingrained in them all by the happening of the morning.
Borden went on paying out the lines, and gradually the flicker of the copper helmet died away and merged with the green of the water. Even Yorke had forgotten to keep an eye out for the shark, and stood craned over the bulwarks, gazing down awesomely into the green depths below.
To Mart it seemed that an age passed. He knew that down beneath the water old Jerry could hear the strokes of the air-pump, and he wondered if the shark were anywhere around the wreck. Both boys had been given a very thorough knowledge of diving by the old quartermaster, from a theoretical standpoint, and had it not been for the Pirate Shark, Mart would have liked nothing better than a descent.
But just at present he had something else in mind. Down below on the gangway landing were Borden, Birch and Dailey, unarmed except for revolvers, and lined to the landing was one of the yacht's boats, lowered that morning. A dozen feet away, with his back to Mart, stood Yorke, absolutely absorbed in the scene below.
Mart knew exactly how big that huge elephant gun would look to four startled men, and he also knew that without Jerry's quick brains the rest were not to be feared. Suddenly he saw Dailey point to the gauge in the front of the pump, and at the same instant Borden ceased paying out line; Jerry had reached bottom!
"Here you are, Mart," came a soft voice behind him, and Mart whirled, nerved up to the action on which he had decided, and took the empty elephant gun from Bob's hands.
Slowly he raised the huge gun until it half-rested along the rail, pointing square at the head of Yorke. Then, speaking in a tone loud enough for Yorke to hear, he addressed Bob.
"Holly, go and take that rifle away from Yorke. He ain't safe to hold it."
The men below did not hear him, but Yorke did; and as he had expected, the seaman turned his head. As he looked full into the huge muzzle, Yorke's twisted, ever-leering face went pasty white and he submitted to Bob's relieving him of his rifle without a word.
"Hands up, Yorke!" commanded Mart, still softly. "Bob, get his revolver."
Bob obeyed, and still Yorke stared into the muzzle of the elephant gun with fear-stricken eyes and a ghastly pallor on his face, as he reached for the sky.
"Now get down on the landing," ordered Mart, and with that shifted his gun over the rail so that it pointed straight at the three men below. So far, they had heard nothing. Mart knew that he might be endangering Jerry's life, but he did not hesitate, and jerked his head for Bob to follow Yorke, who had started down the ladder.
"Get after him and take their guns, Bob."
The other boy obeyed, entering at once into Mart's plan. Yorke, paralyzed with fear, kept his hands in the air as he descended, and when his shadow fell across the landing, Dailey was the first to glance up in surprise.
"Hands up, you men!" commanded Mart sternly, though he felt a quiver in his throat. Would they call the bluff of that empty gun? "Quick about it, there!"
Into the one-eyed face of Birch flashed an evil anger mixed with fear; Dailey promptly stuck up his hands, as did Borden, who still clung to the lines, but Birch only continued pumping, though he looked up fearfully.
"I ain't a-goin' back on Jerry," he growled.
Mart read indecision in his tone, however. He knew that Jerry would be in no danger from a momentary cessation of pumping, just as he would be in no danger were his air hose to break, as the helmet valve would in that case close automatically and Jerry would have enough air left in his dress to last him for some minutes.
"Up with 'em, you pirate!" cried Mart, shifting his big gun a trifle so that Birch's glittering black eye looked full in the muzzle.
"Don't shoot, ye fool!" gasped Birch, flinging up his arms, and Mart knew he had won.
The men stood looking up, evil-eyed, panting with their exertions at the pumps, while Bob swiftly emptied their revolver-belts of weapons and knives and was up the ladder to the deck again, flinging down his load.
"You ain't a-goin' to murder poor old Jerry!" cried Dailey sharply. Mart winced.
"Bob," he returned, "you'll have to go down and keep those pumps going. Hurry up, now!"
His chum, rather pale-faced and flurried, hastened down again and began turning the double handle of the pumps, while the four men crowded beyond the ladder.
"Drop those lines, Borden," ordered Mart sternly, and the old seaman obeyed without demur. "Now unfasten that boat and get into her! Pile in, the whole crowd of you! Do it lively now! That's right. Get busy with those oars and row over to that island. When you get there, shove out that boat and let her float off, or I'll pepper you with a load o' buckshot."
"You ain't goin' for to maroon us there?"
"You're pirates and mutineers and I'm an officer o' this ship," replied Mart fiercely. "You step lively there or I'll send you where Jerry is, without any diving suit but with some buckshot in your back. Jump, now!"
Plainly, the men did not doubt either his intentions or his ability to fulfill his ferocious threat. While Bob continued his mechanical pumping, the four tumbled into the boat and pulled away without another word. Mart knew that once they were on the island, with the boat floated away, they were practically in prison. None of them would ever attempt swimming away to the mainland while the Pirate Shark was in the lagoon.
Mart stood at the gangway and kept the boat covered with his empty elephant gun, though now that the tension was relaxed and the victory his, everything blurred before his eyes and he felt weak with the reaction. The island was only a few hundred feet away, and the men pulled to the sandy beach without hesitation, tumbled out, and shoved the boat out again. Then they fled for the cover of the trees and bushes and were gone.
"By juniper!" breathed Bob from the landing below, as Mart flung the gun to the deck and leaned on the bulwark. "You look like a ghost, Mart! Trot down here and give me a hand at this job."
"Well, we licked 'em!" exclaimed Mart, a surge of exultation rising within him as he slowly descended the ladder. "We licked 'em with an empty gun, old scout! Say, can you beat it? Think of us standin' off a gang o' pirates with your dad's old elephant gun! Did you see how white Yorke was?"
As he spoke, he relieved Bob at the pump wheel, and the latter leaned back and mopped his dripping brow.
"Well, I'd hate to have you come after me in earnest!" declared Bob with a laugh. "Say, you can sure talk like a bad man, Mart! You had me dead sure you'd land those pirates with a bullet!"
"I was scared!" admitted Mart with a grin. "I was so blamed scared, Holly, that I had to make 'em think I meant it. Here, get to work and quit talking."
"No sign o' Jerry, eh?"
Bob fell to work at the opposite handle, but mindful of the old quartermaster's lessons, they kept up a steady pumping, not too fast, but enough to maintain a good air pressure below.
Watching the lines as they worked, there appeared to be little motion; the two diving suits were not equipped with telephones or speaking tubes, but the boys knew the signals.
"Watch out!" cried Bob suddenly, as he caught at the lines that were slipping off at a jerk from below. "Keep turnin'—I'll 'tend to the ropes!"
He barely caught the lines and coils of air hose in time to save them, and Mart, watching as he pumped, saw four distinct jerks—the signal to pull up. In reply, Bob jerked the lifelines once, meaning "Are you all right?"
One pull came back, assenting to the query, and without more delay Bob began to pull up Jerry. Mart cautioned him as to speed, and Bob nodded. Jerry had not gone down by the usual "shot-rope," often used by divers, because the gangway landing was nearly exactly over the wreck.
It was no task to pull up the quartermaster until the heavy copper helmet rose to the landing. Then Mart came and lent his assistance, and between them they got Jerry up and over the side. He did not have the kris with him, and he lay stretched out, unable to rise because of his heavy clothes and weights.
This bothered the boys not at all. Mart sent Bob to get all the rifles safely locked up in the cabins, while he set to work unscrewing Jerry's helmet. At first he felt some fear lest the old man had come to some harm, so motionless did he lie; but as he got the helmet unscrewed he heard Jerry's voice proceeding from within, and no sooner had he helped the quartermaster to sit up, gasping and blinking, than his fears were quite allayed.
"Ho!" cried Jerry, with wild triumph on his face as he flung back his white hair. "She's there, mates, she's there! Eight fathom down she is, and no Pirate Shark neither! Old Jerry found her, he did—eh? What—"
In his first transports the quartermaster had not observed that his mates were not around him, evidently. Then his eyes fell on Bob, coming down the ladder, and he gazed about blankly. Mart grinned.
"Is the wreck there, Jerry?"
For a moment Jerry made no reply, but stared around helplessly, and his jaw dropped. His head went up, and he searched the ladder and bulwarks above, until both Bob and Mart gave a shout of laughter.
"No use, Jerry," cried Bob cheerfully. "Your friends are gone, and there's a set of irons waiting for you up for'ard. Come, get out o' that suit and step lively, now."
Jerry gasped, then cried feebly:
"Gone? My mates gone? Hey, Dailey! Birch! Yorke! Where are you, mates?"
The terror and consternation on his face sobered the boys instantly. He tried to get up, the veins standing out on his forehead, his eyes straining frantically, but Mart swiftly pushed him back and faced him. Helpless though the old man was in his heavily-weighted diving suit, there was something terrible in his aspect that made both boys feel a sudden fear of his unleashed fury.
"Sit back there," ordered Mart peremptorily. "No use calling for your mates, Jerry. They can't help you now, and you're in for it."
"Eh?" Jerry stared up, his face working horribly, his fingers twining and untwining. "You—you've killed 'em? You've killed poor old Borden, lad, and Dailey—and Birch—"
Mart could stand it no longer.
"No, nobody's killed, Jerry," he said kindly, sympathizing with the old man's terrible agitation. "We've marooned your men on the island, and they're helpless and unarmed. TheSeamewbelongs to us now, and I think it'll be best for all concerned that you go in irons. We can't trust you, Jerry, and that's flat."
Slowly the old quartermaster comprehended his defeat. A look of anguish flitted across his face, his eyes lost their keen sharpness and became old and bleared once more, and with a groan he lowered his head on his breast and his white hair fell around his features in the sunlight.
Mart caught a pitying glance from Bob, but he knew too well that Jerry was not to be trusted, and drew his chum aside to the ladder.
"Look here, Holly," he whispered earnestly, "we can't get soft-hearted now. Jerry ain't half as simple as he looks, take it from me. We got our work cut out for us, too. Your dad's over there in the jungle, remember, and them Malays have got 'most all the crew pris'ners. That's goin' to be a mighty hard nut for us to crack. We've got to put Jerry in irons, that's all."
Bob nodded, his eyes roving over the water.
"Look there, Mart," he said, pointing to the island. "The boat's gone back to the shore."
Mart glanced across to the island, and saw that the boat had indeed drifted back to the beach and lay slowly stranding as the tide dropped. However, he forgot about the matter instantly, as Jerry's voice came to them.
"Look here, lads," and the old man's voice came softly, appealingly. "I got a proposition to make. You've got me fair and square, lads, fair and square—but I want to get down to that there wreck again."
Mart eyed him keenly, but the old man was evidently in earnest.
"Let's hear your proposition," he said curtly.
Jerry collected himself with an effort. It must indeed have been a bitter pill for him to swallow, reflected Mart as he watched the old quartermaster, while Bob stood at his elbow. Jerry had gone down leaving his gang in full possession of the yacht; he had evidently found the wreck untenanted by the Pirate Shark; and he had returned to the surface to find all his fine schemes shattered by the two boys.
Undoubtedly the old man was a villain, and he had showed that morning that he cared nothing for human life so that his plans were carried out; but now he looked so helpless, sitting there in the blazing sun with his white hair falling over his neck, that the boys could not help feeling a touch of sympathy for him.
"Lads," he said slowly, gazing up at them with his gentle blue eyes, "I found that there wreck, and she's split apart so's her cargo can be got at easy. There's gold a-lyin' there for the pickin' up, lads!" His voice grew hoarse with eagerness.
"Eight fathom down she lies, lads, eight fathom down! I got to go down again, lads—I been waitin' too long for this chance! I just want to get my hands on that there gold, I do. The Pirate Shark ain't around, lads—don't be hard on old Jerry! You've got me, lads, you've got me. Don't put me in irons yet, lads. Let me go down once more, just to get my hands on that there gold—"
"Calm down, Jerry," broke in Bob, as the quartermaster's voice grew hoarser still, his old face working almost hysterically. "We're not going to hurt you. I tell you what. Wait till dad gets back with Swanson and the crew, then we'll get up that treasure for you—"
"No!" Jerry's voice rang out clear and strong, a feverish anxiety in his face. "I want to do it myself, lads! If the Pirate Shark's there I want to get at him with that there kris!"
"Where is the kris, by the way?" interjected Mart.
"Stickin' in the side o' the wreck," replied Jerry in a calmer voice. "She's layin' over on her side, hard and fast in the coral. I felt around a bit, lads, and I seen a box there—it's rotten, it is, and it's full o' gold! The mystery o' the sea, lads, the mystery o' the sea! The gold's down below, and us up here above—and fish tell no tales, lads! Let me go down once more, lads, and I'll not say another word, or cause any more trouble, that I won't!"
The boys looked at each other irresolutely. After all, reflected Mart, there could be no risk to themselves in letting Jerry go down again. He was plainly in a high state of excitement at having found the wreck and possibly the treasure, and it would possibly be more injurious to restrain him than it would be to let him continue his work.
Of course, there was danger from the Pirate Shark, and a terrible danger it was. But as Jerry had said, once he stood with his back against the wreck and the kris in his hand, he would be able to hold his own. The great danger came from the chance that the shark might catch him going down or coming up, overturn him in the water, and snap him off.
"I don't know," said Bob slowly. "Of course, if that shark wasn't there—"
"I can take care o' him," broke in Jerry eagerly, clutching at his helmet. "He allus snaps off the lifelines first, they say, lads. If the lines or the hose breaks, why, haul up on whichever's left. But he ain't there, lads, he ain't there! You'll let old Jerry go down again! Come an' help me up, lads."
"Hold on," exclaimed Mart as Bob impulsively started forward. "We don't aim to let you start any rough-house with us, Jerry. I don't trust you a little bit. Bob, you stand by while I help Jerry get his helmet on, then get the pump goin' while I slide him over the edge of the platform."
The quartermaster broke into a flood of eager words, which Bob abruptly cut short.
"Look here, Jerry! What about dad? Are they holdin' him prisoner on shore, like you said, or—or—"
He paused, and Jerry chuckled as he glanced up, his head on one side like that of a bird, his blue eyes suddenly bright again.
"No, no, lad! He's just taken care of, that's all. Mebbe we'll make a compromise yet, lads—you holdin' me and the yacht, and me holdin' your father, eh! Well, we'll see. Birch can get him off, lads. Birch talks the lingo, he does, and if anythin' happens to me, you talk to him."
This speech relieved the minds of both boys immensely. Half their fears had been for the men who had gone so trustingly into the jungle, to be held prisoners by the Malays, and now that they were sure no harm was being done Captain Hollinger, they felt much more inclined to deal gently with old Jerry.
"So when you promised dad that you'd have gold on board when he came back," said Bob with a slow grin, "you meant the treasure, eh?"
Jerry chuckled and nodded.
"Aye, lads, just that. But you'll mind the pumps, eh? You'll not let old Jerry go without air?"
"Sure not," Mart reassured him. "We'll take care of you fine, Jerry."
The quartermaster reached out for his big helmet, and Bob sprang forward to assist him. At the same instant, however, they were startled by a hail from the shore, and looked up to see Birch standing beside the stranded boat.
"Seamewahoy!" he called again.
"Well, what do you want?" returned Mart.
"Let me row out alone? I want to talk."
Mart glanced at Bob. "How about it, Holly? I s'pose he wants some grub and water."
"Let him come out, lads," spoke up Jerry before Bob could reply. "You've got us, you have; let him come out, lads, and talk it over."
"All right," shouted Mart to the seaman, then turned to Bob. "Holly, you get up on deck with one o' them rifles. If there's any trouble, you shoot Jerry, see?"
Bob grimaced behind the quartermaster's back, and ascended the ladder. Watching the shore, Mart saw Birch turn and say something; the forms of the other men came from among the bushes and they helped shove out the boat. The one-eyed seaman leaped into her and settled down at the oars.
As Jerry was firmly anchored down by his weights and heavy boots, Mart had no fear of any trouble arising. When Birch had come within twenty feet of the yacht, however, Mart stopped him curtly.
"Close enough, there! Now, what do you want?"
"Water, sir," pleaded the seaman respectfully. "You've got us, sir, and you've got Jerry, there; but you ain't goin' to torture us, be you?"
"No," returned Mart. After all, he reflected, the complaint was only just. There was no water on the island, and it would be rank torture to maroon the four men there without either food or drink, for the afternoon sun was at its height.
"You stay where you are, Birch," he went on. "When we've got out a breaker of water and some biscuit, you can come in for them."
Birch nodded, and Mart went up the ladder to where Bob was waiting. Taking the rifle from the hands of his chum, he asked Bob to get out a breaker of water and a bag of biscuit. Bob nodded and darted forward, while Mart remained leaning over the rail, his rifle in plain sight.
Down below, Jerry gazed at Birch solemnly, then shook his head.
"You made a fine mess o' things," he declared slowly. "A fine mess o' things, Birch! The treasure's there, eight fathom down."
"It's your own fault," retorted the other sullenly. "Didn't we say to send them kids ashore, hey? But you wouldn't do it, and now they've got us."
"Yes, they've got us!" screamed old Jerry suddenly, shaking his fist as he sat. "They've got us, you fool! Why didn't you keep your eye on 'em, eh? You're fine mates for a man to have, you are! The minute I gets out o' sight, you have to go and smash up everything! Nice set o' mates, you are. Bah!"
And the disgusted quartermaster spat into the water, while Mart grinned in enjoyment of the scene. Jerry's vehement anger was certainly unfeigned, while Birch grew more sullen with each moment. Verily evil-faced and villainous he looked, as he sat in the blazing sun and leaned on his oars, and Mart shuddered to think what might have happened to all of them had it not been for that elephant gun.
At this juncture Bob arrived with a small keg of water, which he carried down to the landing. Then he went forward again after a bag of biscuit. As the terrified Ah Sing was still burning joss sticks and chattering prayers to his ancestors, Bob had to rummage about for the biscuit himself, but he finally secured a half-emptied bag, which he carried down and deposited on the landing below.
"Come along, Birch, and don't try any funny work," demanded Mart. "Bob, you sling 'em into the boat and keep out of his reach."
But Birch had plainly come without any thoughts of treachery. He rowed up slowly until the prow of his boat scraped the landing, and Bob heaved the keg and biscuit aboard, shoving off the boat instantly. Without a word, Birch sullenly fell to work at his oars again and headed for the island. Mart set down the rifle and descended to the landing.
"Well, if you'll give me a hand wi' this here helmet, lads," suggested Jerry, "I'll be goin' down."
Bob stepped forward and helped him on with the big helmet, screwing it down into the collar. Mart stood over the pump wheel, and as he glanced at the island he saw that Birch had landed, and that he and the others were carrying up the water and biscuit. It occurred to him that before dark he must make sure that the boat was shoved out, even if he had to go ashore in another boat to get it; for it was imperative that the four mutineers should be unable to leave the island.
However, there was plenty of time left for that, he thought, and so turned to Jerry. Bob was just completing his task, and Jerry had opened the front window of his helmet for a parting injunction.
"You'll mind the pumps, lads?"
"You bet!" replied Bob cheerfully.
"Hold on," cried Mart quickly, as the quartermaster began to close his window. "You sure you've got that kris handy down there, Jerry? You don't want to take any chances, you know."
"It's there, lad, it's there, eight fathom down," responded Jerry with a faint chuckle. "It's a-sticking into the old wreck, it is, right where I can put my hand up to it. Well, lads, mind them pumps now! Good-bye, lads—here's to the mystery o' the sea, and hoping as the Pirate Shark ain't around!"
So Jerry collectedly shut himself in and waited until Mart, at the pumps, had got his diving suit well inflated. Then, disdaining Bob's proffered assistance, he worked himself to the edge of the landing and slowly lowered himself over into the water. Bob seized the lines and paid them out slowly, thus holding Jerry upright and keeping his descent slow and steady, while Mart pumped slowly and methodically, alternately watching the flickering helmet down in the green depths and the pump-gauges.
At length the gauges marked seven fathoms, and the dial finger slowly rose to eight, then stopped suddenly. Jerry had reached the bottom.
"All right, Holly," said Mart quickly. "Come along an' take the other wheel."
Bob dropped the lines in a heap and sprang to the pumps. For a moment the two boys worked in silence, then Mart chuckled.
"Say, I guess we've got those pirates scared stiff, eh?"
"Looks like it," returned Bob, his eyes on the water. "That fellow Birch—great Scott! Look there!"
The sudden fear in his voice struck Mart like a blow. Looking at the water, he saw a little line of bubbles rising, and the terrible significance of it sent horror into his heart.
"The hose is cut!" he cried, and leaped to the lines.
But though he tugged, there came no answering pull. White-faced and stricken by the swift terror of what had happened, he began yanking at the line and hose together, and as they came swiftly up he felt a thrill of cold dread that seized on his heart and held him dumb.
With feverish haste he hauled in both lines, shrinking at thought of what had befallen the old quartermaster. Then, without warning, the lines shot up and curled about the landing—cut short and clean.
"The shark—" began Bob, white-lipped and paralyzed with horror.
"No!" exclaimed Mart, his mind leaping ahead swiftly. "The kris, Holly! He said it was stickin' in the wreck. The lines came against it and cut off! Here, get the other lines connected up with that spare helmet—move lively!"
Bob stumbled forward in blind obedience, as Mart flung away the useless lines and darted to the spare diving suit, which lay ready with its hose and lines coiled at its side. He opened the wide neck and, snatching off his shoes, began to get into the huge garment in feverish haste.
"What you going to do?" queried the doubly horrified Bob.
"Goin' down, o' course," snapped Mart. "Hurry up, there!"
"But, Mart!" Poor Bob's voice rang out in terror-stricken accents. "Jerry'll be drowned before you can reach him!"
"Shut up!" crackled out Mart, snapping his wrist-bands close. "He won't either. When the air hose is cut, that helmet valve closes automatically. Jerry's down there, an' he can't get up, that's all. Hurry up with that hose!"
Bob fell to work again, his fingers trembling. Mart got into the big shoes and laced over the flaps, for he knew that every second counted, but at the same time he must overlook no slightest item in his dress.
Never had his mind worked so swiftly as now, when the danger call came. It had occurred to him to drop over a weighted line, but he knew that Jerry might be unable to see it, and they were not sure of the quartermaster's exact position. In the same brain-flash he realized that Jerry would have some minutes of life, due to the air contained in his inflated dress; there was time for him to get down with a spare line and get Jerry up, if he acted promptly. So he had acted.
He had pictured in his mind the scene below, with that three-foot kris sticking out from the side of the wreck. The instant those bubbles appeared, he knew there was danger; and the instant he hauled up the clean-severed ends, he guessed that the line and hose had brushed against the keen kris and had been parted. Bob's startled cry had appalled him for an instant, but they had seen no shadow in the green depths, and he leaped at the true solution without hesitation.
"Get that helmet screwed on, now," he snapped, seeing that Bob had connected the air hose. "You keep your nerve, old scout! Everything depends on you, up at this end, so don't get flustered. Chase up and get a coil o' rope. I'll send Jerry up to you first. Haul him up slow, remember."
Bob, who had recovered his nerve under Mart's apparent calm, dashed up the ladder and was down again with a coil of light line. The helmet was screwed down tightly, and Mart pressed his chum's hand warmly. Then, taking one end of the spare line and knotting it around his waist beside his own life line, he drew his sheath knife in case of emergency and stood waiting for his dress to inflate.
He had concealed his own fear behind his frantic haste, and now he did not hesitate to admit to himself that hewasafraid—and very much afraid, too. Oddly enough, the thought of the Pirate Shark did not cause him any great concern. While all during the voyage he had looked forward to diving, now that he was about to step off into that forty feet of water he would have given anything in the world to be able to stay up above.
But the thought of Jerry drove him steadily to the task. Picturing the old man down in the depths, hoping agonizingly for some shred of help from the two boys to whose hands he had trusted himself, Mart resolutely set himself to conquering his fears. The life of a man depended on his keeping up courage and on his remaining cool-headed. When he felt that his dress was full of air, he looked at Bob through the thick glass of the side-plates in his helmet, then sat down and resolutely lowered himself over the edge.
He very nearly overbalanced in doing so, for, in order to counterpoise the forward weight of the big helmet, the weight on the diver's back is five pounds heavier than that in front. The instant his legs were in the water, however, the terrible weight of the leaded boots was gone.
A final glance at his chum showed him that Bob, now steadied down to desperate work, was turning the big wheel with one hand and holding the lifeline in the other, ready to pay it out. At that, Mart gathered up all his courage, sidled off the landing, and let himself drop.
For an instant the sensation was terrible, as he saw the green water closing over him, and the sunlight dimming overhead. Then an almost imperceptible jerk, and he knew that Bob had stayed his fall downward, and was lowering him more gradually. He had no fears as to Bob's capability, and after that first instant he slowly collected himself to the task in hand.
He forced himself to look downward, for now he found that the water was growing darker about him, and he could feel it rushing past his bare hands. The touch, strangely, gave him courage; the water was very warm here in the lagoon, and it was something tangible, something that offset the cold dread of the green dimness rising up at him.
Suddenly he felt a determined tug at the lifeline about his waist, and as this was the usual code query as to how he was, he gave Bob a responding tug. He was getting deeper now. Without the slightest warning, he found that he was beginning to see things around him.
A fish darted past, almost flicking its tail against his front glass. Then a long streamer of seaweed rose at his right, frightening him at first in the belief that it was a snake. And with that, marine life was all around him, there came a shock—and he knew that he had reached the bottom, eight fathoms down!
Beyond a slight ringing in his ears, he felt no unwonted sensations. All about him was marine life—shells and slime and solid coral underneath his feet, with queer things that seemed to slide away from his presence. There was a little seaweed, but not much; sponges, sea fans, and several tiny writhing octopi that shot away and vanished in the obscurity. He could distinctly hear the strokes of the pumps, regular and steady.
"Good old Holly!" he thought. "But—this ain't getting Jerry."
He realized that as there was no wreck in sight in front or to the sides, and as the landing-stage of theSeamewhad been directly over it, he must be facing away from the wreck. So far, he had not moved. Now, as he tried to turn about, he found himself bounding up several feet, and laughed to himself as he remembered Jerry's lessons.
But he had turned about—and the scene before him made him start back in awe and amazement. Hardly ten feet away from him was the wreck—a great dim shape with streaming sea growth and barnacles that rose more like a huge rock than anything else. A trifle above the level of his head flamed out a little silver line of light—it was the kris, protruding handle outward from the barnacled wood. But where was Jerry?
Then he saw, and moved forward with a terrible fear lest he had been too slow. The kris was stuck in the wreck at a corner, where the huge mass had split apart and had made a V-shaped opening. Just inside this lay the motionless form of Jerry, who must have become insensible from lack of air. Beyond a doubt he had penetrated into the opening, and as he did so his hose and line had caught on the kris and parted. The very weapon he had counted on for safety had betrayed him!
As he moved forward, Mart took precautions against the same danger, by pulling out the kris and sticking it into the wood again farther ahead. Then, with that strange lightness that divers feel, he leaped forward, clutching at his spare line. Swiftly drawing his knife across it, for he had no time now to untie knots, he caught the end under Jerry's shoulders and knotted it. Looking down into the glass of Jerry's helmet, he could make out that the old man's eyes were closed, while his mouth was open and was feebly gasping for air.
"By golly, I just got here in time!" thought Mart with a quick breath of relief. "He'll have to go up first, I guess. Bob can't haul us both."
With that, he separated the spare line from his own, and tugged it four times. Bob must have been in desperate fear, for he never paused to reply, but the form of Jerry rose almost at once.
Mart could still hear the pump-strokes going, however, and the air he breathed was fresh and pure. He thought of Bob, pumping with one hand and hauling up with the other, and at the same instant he thought of the four mutineers ashore. What if they had seen the whole affair and were to come out in their boat and recapture the ship?
At the very thought he felt the perspiration stand out as he gazed dully at the swaying figure of Jerry which was slowly vanishing above him. However, there was no use speculating, he considered. Little by little the form of Jerry merged into the flickering lights and shadows overhead; staring up, he could perceive the darker shade of the yacht directly above him.
"Well, I might's well take a look at the treasure!" he thought suddenly, and with that turned to the wreck. Cautiously making his way into the V-shaped opening where the rotted ship had fallen apart, he perceived that her outlines were gradually taking shape to his eyes.
She was lying directly on her side, the decks rising straight up from the rock bottom. Ahead and behind him there were projections from her decks, no doubt the forecastle and high poop of other days. She seemed to be split well asunder, for the opening was a good five feet across, and without hesitation Mart advanced into it.
As he did so, he paused, in wild apprehension. The pump-strokes had ceased! Then he grinned, with a sigh of relief; of course Bob would have had to quit work in order to get the body of Jerry over the landing, and unscrew his helmet so that air might reach him. When the pump-strokes began again, he could go up.
Mart glanced around curiously. The hold of the ancient ship was dark, and he could see nothing, for the light down here was dim, rendering all things distorted and indistinct; this his thick glass-plates did not tend to help, but a moment later he became aware of something like a box that protruded on his right, and remembered what Jerry had said about a chest of treasure being in sight.
He had sheathed his knife while sending the quartermaster up, and now he drew it and shoved the blade against the box. It seemed of great weight, for even in the water it did not move under the shock. Then he kicked it with his heavy boot, and saw it shake and shatter. The wood must be pretty rotten, he reflected, and with that he kicked it again.
"Well, I'll be switched!" he gasped, starting back. Not only had the box gone to pieces, but pouring out from its shattered corner came a stream of gold coins! That they were gold he did not doubt for a moment; even in the semi-darkness they gleamed and shone ruddy yellow, pouring out and out until they covered even the high soles of his diving boots.
"Thunder! I've struck it!"
For a moment he stared down, unable to move. Then he felt a little wave of pure air sweep around his face and heard the pumps begin to click again up above; until then he had not realized that his air was becoming vitiated. But he paid no attention to anything but the stream of yellow coins that were settling down over his feet, and neglected the fact that now he could ascend.
Gold! With the word ringing through his brain Mart leaned over cautiously, so as not to lose his balance, and stirred the heap of coins with his fingers. He wanted to take some of them up, but had no pockets. Going to his knees, he began to stuff the coins wildly under his belt, under the broad straps of his shoes, even forcing some beneath the weights of his chest.
While he was doing this, he suddenly felt tug after tug on his line—frenzied pulls that woke him from his gold-fever instantly. What was wrong? He answered with one "all right" signal, but still the tugs continued, at both lifeline and air line. Concluding that he had best ascend, in any case, he cautiously emerged from the opening until he once more stood outside the wreck.
He put out his hand toward the kris, meaning to take it up with him; then his heart seemed to stop beating and he stood frozen with horror. What was that dim, vague shape sweeping past, up above?
Mart stood gazing upward, unable to move as the realization of his terrible position flashed on his mind. The long, tapering shadow told its message only too clearly. The Pirate Shark had returned—and he was trapped! Now he understood the meaning of those frantic tugs. Bob had seen the shadow and had tried to warn him. Too late!
With a groan of agony, Mart drew back into the opening. He remembered what old Jerry had said—that so long as a man had his back to something, kept on his feet, and had a weapon, he was all right. Therefore, he must not try to go up, for then the shark could grab him with ease.
Cold sweat stood out on his forehead. What was it Jerry and the others had said about the Pirate Shark always nipping the air hose first? Poor Mart trembled as he still stared up, in hope that the shark might have flitted past and would not return. Again came Bob's frantic tugs, and on a sudden Mart felt calmness flood into his brain, and he reached for his air hose.
"By golly, I've got a fighting chance and that's all!" he muttered, then his lips clenched.
He pulled the air hose twice, then twice again, with the signal for more air. He repeated it, for he knew now what he must do. To attempt going up was impossible; the shark would cut his line, and then come down to finish him. Therefore he must get all the air possible—
"Ah!"
A little click behind his ear, and the noise of pumps stopped. A flicker of the dim gray shape above, then it became larger, more firm of outline. Down through the water curled the air hose and lifeline, bitten through, and Mart had a vision of the tremendous fish as it flitted past overhead, turning in a great curve. The sight was paralyzing. Then Mart gripped the kris, tore it from the barnacled wood, and whipped around to meet his enemy. He had no way of getting up to the surface, his air-supply was limited—but he would not give up without a struggle.