Chapter Eleven.Tells of bold Plans, followed by bolder Deeds.Months passed away, and Miss Pritty, sitting in her little boudoir sipping a cup of that which cheers, received a letter.“I know that hand, of course I do. How strange it is there should be such a variety of hands—no two alike, just like faces; though for my part I think that some faces are quite alike, so much so that there are one or two people who are always mistaken for each other, so that people don’t know which is which. Dear me! What an awful thing it would be if these people were so like that each should forget which was the other! Nobody else being able to put them right, there would be irretrievable confusion. What do you want, eh?”The first part of Miss Pritty’s mutterances was a soliloquy; the query was addressed to her small and only domestic with the dishevelled head, who lingered at the door from motives of curiosity.“Nothink, ma’am. Do you wish me to wait, ma’am?”“No;—go.”She went, and Miss Pritty, opening the letter, exclaimed, “From my nephew, Edgar! I knew it. Dear fellow! I wonder why he writes to me.”The letter ran as follows:—“Dear Aunt,—You will doubtless be surprised to receive a letter from me. It must be brief; the post leaves in an hour. Since I saw you we have had a charming voyage out, but at the last we ran on a rocky island off the coast of China, and became a total wreck in a few minutes.”At this point Miss Pritty gasped “oh!” and fainted—at least she went into a perfect semblance of the state of coma, but as she recovered suddenly, and appealed to the letter again with intense earnestness, it may have been something else that was the matter. She resumed her perusal:—“We succeeded in getting a hawser on shore, by means of which, through God’s mercy, nearly all the passengers were saved, including, of course, your friend Miss Hazlit and her father. It is mournful to have to add, however, that before the work was finished the wreck slipped into deep water and sank with all her crew on board. We remained only one day on the rock, when a passing ship observed our signals, took us off, and carried us safely into Hong-Kong.“Mr Hazlit and his daughter immediately left for—I know not where! I remained here to make some inquiries about the wreck, which I am told contains a large amount of gold coin. Now, I want you to take the enclosed letter to my father’s old servant, Joe Baldwin; help him to read it, if necessary, and to answer it by return of post. It is important; therefore, dear aunt, don’t delay. I think you know Baldwin’s address, as I’ve been told he lives in the district of the town which you are wont to visit. Excuse this shabby scrawl, and the trouble I ask you to take, and believe me to be your loving nephew, Edgar Berrington.”Miss Pritty was a prompt little woman. Instead of finishing her tea she postponed that meal to an indefinite season, threw on her bonnet and shawl, and left her humble abode abruptly.Joe Baldwin was enjoying a quiet pipe at his own fireside—in company with his buxom wife and his friends Mr and Mrs Rooney Machowl—when Miss Pritty tripped up to his door and knocked.She was received warmly, for Joe sympathised with her affectionate and self-denying spirit, and Mrs Joe believed in her. Woe to the unfortunate in whom Mrs Joe—aliasSusan—didnotbelieve.“Come away, Miss,—glad to see you—always so,” said Joe, wiping a chair with his cap and extinguishing his pipe out of deference; “sit down, Miss.”Miss Pritty bowed all round, wished each of the party good-evening by name, and seating herself beside the little fire as easily and unceremoniously as though it had been her own, drew forth her letter.“This is for you, Mr Baldwin,” she said; “it came enclosed in one to me, and is from my nephew, Edgar Berrington, who says it is important.”“Thank you, ma’am,” said Joe, taking the letter, opening it, and looking at it inquiringly.“Now Miss,” said he, “it’s of no manner o’ use my tryin’ to make it out. You mustn’t suppose, Miss, that divers can’t read. There’s many of ’em who have got a good education in the three R’s, an’ some who have gone further. For the matter of that I can read print easy enough, as you know, but I never was good at pot-hooks and hangers, d’ee see; therefore I’ll be obliged, Miss, if you’ll read it to me.”Miss Pritty graciously acceded to the request, and read:—“Dear Baldwin,—My aunt, Miss Pritty, who will hand this letter to you, will tell you about our being wrecked. Now, in regard to that I have a proposal to make. First, let me explain. The wreck of theWarrior, after slipping off the ledge on which she struck, sank in twenty fathoms water. On our arrival at Hong-Kong, the agent of the owners sent off to see what could be done in the way of recovering the treasure on board—there being no less than fifty thousand pounds sterling in gold in her treasure-room, besides valuables belonging to passengers. A Lloyds’ agent also visited the place, and both came to the conclusion that it was utterly impossible to recover anything from such a depth by means of divers. This being so, and I happening to be on the spot, offered to purchase the right to recover and appropriate all the gold I could fish up. They laughed at me as a wild enthusiast, but, regarding the thing as hopeless themselves, were quite willing to let me have the wreck, etcetera, for what you would call ‘an old song.’ Now, although nominally a ‘penniless man,’ I do happen to possess a small property, in the form of a block of old houses in Newcastle, which were left to me by an uncle, and which I have never seen. On these I have raised sufficient money for my purpose, and I intend to make the venture, being convinced that with the new and almost perfect apparatus now turned out in London by our submarine engineers, bold divers may reach even a greater depth than twenty fathoms. My proposal then is, that you should come to my aid. I will divide all we bring up into three equal portions. One of these you shall have, one I’ll keep to myself, and the third shall be shared equally by such divers as you think it advisable to employ. What say you? Do the prospects and terms suit, and will you come without delay? If so, reply at once, and send all the requisite material to this place. Be particular to bring dresses made by the first makers in London. I wish this to be a sort of semi-scientific experiment—to recover property from a great depth, to test the powers and properties of the various apparatus now in use and recently invented, and, while so doing, to make my fortune as well as yours, and that of all concerned! Perhaps you think the idea a wild one. Well, it may be so, but wilder ideas than this have been realised. Remember the noble house of Mulgrave!—Yours truly,—“Edgar Berrington.”The last sentence in the letter referred to a fact in the history of diving which is worthy of mention. In or about the year 1683 a man named Phipps, the son of an American blacksmith, was smitten with a mania, then prevalent, for recovering treasure from sunken wrecks by means of diving. He succeeded in fishing up a small amount from the wreck of a Spanish galleon off the coast of Hispaniola, which, however, did not pay expenses. Being a man of indomitable perseverance as well as enthusiasm, Phipps continued his experiments with varying success, and on one occasion—if not more—succeeded in reducing himself to poverty. But the blacksmith’s son was made of tough material—as though he had been carefully fashioned on his father’s anvil. He was a man of strong faith, and this, in material as well as spiritual affairs, can remove mountains. He was invincibly convinced of the practicability of his schemes. As is usual in such men, he had the power to impart his faith to others. He had moved Charles the Second to assist him in his first efforts, which had failed, but was unable to similarly influence the cautious—not to say close-fisted—James the Second. The Duke of Albemarle, however, proved more tractable. Through his aid and influence, and with funds obtained from the public, Phipps was enabled in 1687 once more to try his fortune. He set sail in a 200-ton vessel, and after many fruitless efforts succeeded in raising from a depth of between six and seven fathoms, (considered but a small depth now-a-days) property to the value of about 300,000 pounds. Of this sum the usurious Earl obtained as his share 90,000 pounds while Phipps received 20,000 pounds. Although James the Second had refused to aid in the expedition, he had the wisdom to recognise the good service done to mankind in the saving of so much valuable property at so great personal risk. He knighted Phipps, who thus became the founder of the house of Mulgrave—now represented by the Marquis of Normanby.When Miss Pritty had concluded the letter, Joe Baldwin turned to Rooney Machowl:—“What think you, lad,” he said, “would you venture down to twenty fathom?”“To twenty thousand fathom, if you’ll consint to watch the pumps and howld the life-line,” replied the daring son of Erin.“Will you let me go, Susan?” said Baldwin, turning to his wife.“How could I hinder you, Joe?” answered Mrs Baldwin, with a face reddened by suppressed emotion at the bare idea.“And will you go with me, Susan?”“I’d sooner go to the—” she stopped, unable to decide as to what part of earth she would not sooner go to than China, but not being versed in geography she finished by asserting that she’d sooner go to the moon!Pretty little Mrs Machowl, on the contrary, vowed that no power on earth should separate between her and her Rooney, and that if he went she should go, and the baby too.“Well then, Miss,” said Baldwin to his visitor, “if you’ll be so kind as to write for me I’ll be obliged. Say to Mister Eddy—I can’t forget the old name, you see—that I’m agreeable; that I’ll undertake the job, along with Rooney Machowl here, and mayhap another man or two. I’ll get all the dresses and apparatus he requires, and will set sail as soon as I can; but, you see, I can’t well start right off, because I’ve a job or two on hand. I’ve a well to go down an’ putt right, an’ I’ve some dock repairs to finish. However, to save time I’ll send Rooney off at once with one dress and apparatus, so that they can be tryin’ experiments till I arrive—which will be by the following steamer.Now, Miss, d’you think you can tell him all that?”“I will try,” said Miss Pritty, making rapid entries in a small note-book, after completing which and putting a few more questions she hurried home.Meanwhile Rooney’s wife went off to make arrangements for a long voyage, and a probably prolonged residence in foreign parts, and Joe Baldwin went to visit the well he had engaged to descend, taking Rooney as his assistant. During his visit to this well, Joe underwent some experiences, both physical and mental, which tried his nerve and courage more severely than any descent he had ever made in the open sea.It is a well-known fact among divers that various temperaments are suited to various works, and that, among other things, many men who are bold enough in open water lose courage in confined places such as wells. They say—so powerful is imagination!—that they “cannot breathe” down in a well, though, of course, the means of breathing is the same in all cases. Joe Baldwin, being gifted with cool blood and strong nerves, and possessing very little imagination, was noted among his fellows for his readiness and ability to venture anywhere under water and do anything.The well in question was connected with the waterworks of a neighbouring town. Having got himself and his apparatus conveyed thither he spent the night in the town and proceeded on the following morning at day-break to inspect the scene of his operations.The well was an old one and very deep—about fifteen fathoms. That, however, was a matter of small importance to our diver. What concerned him most was the narrowness of the manhole or entrance at the top, and the generally dilapidated state of the whole affair.The well, instead of being a circular hole in the ground lined with brick, like ordinary wells, was composed of huge iron cylinders four feet in diameter, fitted together and sunk ninety feet into the ground. This vast tube or circular iron well rested on a foundation of brick-work. When sunk to its foundation its upper edge was just level with the ground. Inside of this tube there were a variety of cross-beams, and a succession of iron ladders zigzagging from top to bottom, so that it could be descended when empty. At the time of Joe’s visit it was found nearly full of water. Down the centre of the well ran two iron pipes, or pumps, each having a “rose” at its lower end, through which the water could be sucked and pumped up to a reservoir a hundred feet high for the supply of the town. These two pumps were worked by an engine whose distinguishing features were noise and rickets. It could, however, just do its work; but, recently, something had gone wrong with one of the pumps—no water was thrown up by it. Two results followed. On the one hand the water-supply to the town became insufficient, and, on the other, the surplus water in the well could not be pumped out so as to permit of a man descending to effect repairs. In these circumstances a diver became absolutely necessary. Hence the visit of Baldwin and Machowl.“Now then, diver,” said the managing engineer of the works to Joe, after he had examined everything above ground with care, “you see it is impossible to pump the well dry, because of the defective pump and the strength of the spring which feeds it. Water is admitted into the great cylinder through a number of holes in the bottom. These holes therefore must be stopped. In order to this, you will have to descend in the water with a bag of wooden pegs and a hammer—all of which are ready for you—and plug up these holes. You see, the work to be done is simple enough.”“Ay,” asserted Baldwin, “but the way how to set about it ain’t so simple or clear. How, for instance, is a man of my size to squeeze through that hole at the top?”“Youarelarge,” said the engineer, regarding the diver for a moment, “but not too large, I should think, to squeeze through.”“What! With a divin’ dress on?”“Ah, true; I fear that is a puzzling difficulty at the outset, for you see the well is frail, and we dare not venture to enlarge the hole by cutting the beams that support the pumps.”While he was speaking the diver put his head through the hole in question, and gazed down into darkness visible where water was dripping and gurgling, and hissing a sort of accompaniment to the discordant clanking and jarring of the pump-rods. The rickety engine that worked them kept puffing close alongside—grinding out a horrible addition to the din. As his eyes became more accustomed to the subdued light, Baldwin could see that there was an empty space between the surface of the water and the top of the well, great part of the first length ofzigzagladder being visible, and also the cross-beams on which its foot rested. He also observed various green slimy beams, which being perpetually moistened by droppings from the pumps, seemed alive like water snakes.“Well,” said the diver, withdrawing his head, “I’ll try it. I’ll dress inside there. You’re sure o’ the old ingine, I fancy?”“It has not yet failed us,” answered the engineer, with a smile.“What would happen if it broke or stopped working?” asked Joe.“The well would fill to the brim and overflow in a minute or two.”“So that,” rejoined the diver, “if it caught me in the middle o’ dressin’, me and my mate would be drownded.”“You’d stand a good chance of coming to that end,” replied the engineer, with a laugh. “Your mate might get out in time, but as you say the dress would prevent you getting back through the hole, there would be no hope foryou.”“Well then, we’ll begin,” said Baldwin; “come, Rooney, get the gear in order.” So saying, the adventurous man went to work with his wonted energy. The air-pumps were set up, and two men of the works instructed in the use of them. Then Baldwin squeezed himself with difficulty through the manhole, and the dress was passed down to him. Rooney then squeezed himself through, and both went a few steps down the iron ladder until they stood on the cross-beams behind and underneath it. The position was exceedingly awkward, for the ladder obliged them to stoop, and they did not dare to move their feet except with caution, for fear of slipping off the beams into the water—in which, even as it was, they were ankle-deep while standing on the beams. They were soon soaked to the skin by the drippings and spirtings from the pipes, and almost incapable of hearing each other speak, owing to the din. If Rooney had dropped the lead-soled boots or the shoulder-weights, they would have sunk at once beyond recovery, and have rendered the descent of the diver very difficult if not impossible.Realising all this, the two comrades proceeded with great care and slowness. Dressing a diver in the most favourable circumstances involves a considerable amount of physical exertion and violence of action. It may therefore be well believed that in the case of which we write, a long time elapsed before Baldwin got the length of putting on his helmet. At last it was screwed on. Then a hammer and a bagful of wooden pins were placed in his hands.“Now, Joe, are ye aisy?” asked Rooney, holding the front-glass in his hand, preparatory to sealing his friend up.“All right,” answered Baldwin.“Set a-goin’ the air-pumps up there,” shouted Rooney, from whose face the perspiration flowed freely, as much from anxiety about his friend as from prolonged exertion in a constrained attitude.In a few seconds the air came hissing into the helmet, showing that the two men who wrought it were equal to their duty, though inexperienced.“All right?” asked Rooney a second time.The reply was given, “Yes,” and the bull’s-eye was screwed on.Rooney then sprang up the ladder and through the manhole; took his station at the signal-line and air-pipe, while the engineer of the works watched the air-pump. The rickety steam-engine was then stopped, and, as had been predicted, the water rose quickly. It rose over Baldwin’s knees, waist, and head, and, finally, rushed out at the manhole, deluging Rooney’s legs.Our diver was now fairly imprisoned; an accident, however trifling in itself, that should stop the air-pump would have been his death-knell. Fully impressed with this uncomfortable assurance, he felt his way slowly down the second ladder, knocking his head slightly against cross-beams as he went, holding on tightly to his bag and hammer, and getting down into darkness so profound as to be “felt.” He soon reached the head of the third ladder, and then the fourth.But here, at a depth of about thirty feet, an unexpected difficultyoccurred which had well-nigh caused a failure. The head of the fourth ladder was covered with wood, through which a square manhole led to the bottom of the well. Of course Joe Baldwin discovered this only by touch, and great was his anxiety when, passing his hand round it, he found the hole to be too small for his broad shoulders to pass. At this point, he afterwards admitted, he “felt rather curious,” the whole structure being very frail. However, with characteristic determination he muttered to himself, “never mind, Joe, do it if you can,” and down he went through the hole, putting one arm down with his body, and holding the other up and drawing it down after him, by which process he squeezed his shoulders through at an angle. After reaching the bottom of the well, a feeling of alarm seized him lest he should be unable to force his way upwards through the hole. To settle this question at once he ascended to it, forced himself through, and then, being easy in mind, he redescended to the bottom and went to work with the hammer and wooden pegs.At first he had some difficulty in finding the holes in the great cylinder, but after a dozen of them had been plugged it became easier, as the water rushed in through the remaining holes with greater force. While thus engaged his foot suddenly slipped. To save himself from falling—he knew not whither—he let go the bag of pegs and the hammer—the first of which went upwards and the latter down. To find the hammer in total darkness among the brick-work at the bottom was hopeless, therefore Joe signalled that he was coming up, and started for the top after the bag, but failed to find it. In much perplexity he went to the upper manhole and put up one of his hands.To those who were inexperienced it was somewhat alarming to see the hand of an apparently drowning man with the fingers wriggling violently, but Rooney understood matters.“Arrah, now,” said he, giving the hand a friendly shake, “it’s somethin’ you’re wantin’, sure. What a pity it is wan can’t spake wid his fingers!”Presently the hand shut itself as if grasping something, and moved in a distinct and steady manner.“Och! It’s a hammer he wants. He’s gone an’ lost it. Here you are, boy—there’s another.”The hand disappeared, transferred the implement to the left hand, and reappeared, evidently asking for more.“What now, boy?” muttered Rooney, with a perplexed look.“Doubtless he wants more pegs,” said the engineer of the works, coming up at the moment.“Sure, sur, that can’t be it, for if he’d lost his pegs wouldn’t they have comed up an’ floated?”“They’ve caught somewhere, no doubt, among the timbers on the way up. Anyhow, I had provided against such an accident,” said the engineer, putting another bag of pegs into the impatient hand.It seemed satisfied, and disappeared at once.Joe returned to the bottom, and succeeded in plugging every hole, so that the water from the outside spring could not enter. That done, he ascended, and signalled to the engineer to begin pumping. The rickety engine was set to work, and soon reduced the water so much that Rooney was able to re-descend and undress his friend. Thereafter, in about five hours, the well was pumped dry. The engineer then went down, and soon discovered that one of the pump-rods had been broken near the foot, and that its bucket lay useless at the bottom of the pipe. The repairs could now be easily made, and our divers, having finished their difficult and somewhat dangerous job, returned home. (See Note 1.)Next day Joe Baldwin paid a visit to the neighbouring harbour, where a new part of the pier was being built by divers. His object was to sound our surly friend David Maxwell about joining him in his intended trip to the antipodes, for Maxwell was a first-rate diver, though a somewhat cross-grained man.Maxwell was under water when he arrived. It was Baldwin’s duty to superintend part of the works. He therefore went down, and met his man at the bottom of the sea. Joe took a small school-slate with him, and a piece of pencil—for, the depth being not more than a couple of fathoms, it was possible to see to read and write there.The spot where Maxwell wrought was at the extreme end of the unfinished part of the breakwater. He was busily engaged at the time in laying a large stone which hung suspended to a travelling-crane connected with the temporary works overhead. Joe refrained from interrupting him. Another man assisted him. In the diver fraternity, there are men who thoroughly understand all sorts of handicrafts—there are blacksmiths, carpenters, stone-masons, etcetera. Maxwell was a skilled mechanic, and could do his work as well under water as many a man does above it—perhaps better than some! The bed for the stone had been carefully prepared on a mass of solid masonry which had been already laid. By means of the signal-line Maxwell directed the men in charge of the crane to move it forward, backward, to the right or to the left, as required. At last it hung precisely over the required spot, and was lowered into its final resting-place.Then Baldwin tapped Maxwell on the shoulder. The latter looked earnestly in at the window—if we may so call it—of his visitor, and, recognising Joe, shook hands with him. Joe pointed to a rock, and sat down. Maxwell sat down beside him, and then ensued the following conversation. Using the slate, Baldwin wrote in large printed letters:—“I’ve got a splendid offer to go out to dive in the China seas. Are you game to go?”Taking the slate and pencil, Maxwell wrote—“Game for anything!”“We must finish this job first,” wrote Joe, “and I shall send Rooney out before us with some of the gear—to be ready.”“All right,” was Maxwell’s laconic answer.Baldwin nodded approval of this, but the nod was lost on his comrade owing to the fact that his helmet was immovably fixed to his shoulders. Maxwell evidently understood it, however, for he replied with a nod which was equally lost on his comrade. They then shook hands on it, and Joe, touching his signal-line four times, spurned the ground with a light fantastic toe, and shot to the realms above like a colossal cherub.Note 1. A “job” precisely similar to this was undertaken, and successfully accomplished by Corporal Falconer of the Royal Engineers, and assistant-instructor in diving, from whom we received the details. The gallant corporal was publicly thanked and promoted for his courage and daring in this and other diving operations.
Months passed away, and Miss Pritty, sitting in her little boudoir sipping a cup of that which cheers, received a letter.
“I know that hand, of course I do. How strange it is there should be such a variety of hands—no two alike, just like faces; though for my part I think that some faces are quite alike, so much so that there are one or two people who are always mistaken for each other, so that people don’t know which is which. Dear me! What an awful thing it would be if these people were so like that each should forget which was the other! Nobody else being able to put them right, there would be irretrievable confusion. What do you want, eh?”
The first part of Miss Pritty’s mutterances was a soliloquy; the query was addressed to her small and only domestic with the dishevelled head, who lingered at the door from motives of curiosity.
“Nothink, ma’am. Do you wish me to wait, ma’am?”
“No;—go.”
She went, and Miss Pritty, opening the letter, exclaimed, “From my nephew, Edgar! I knew it. Dear fellow! I wonder why he writes to me.”
The letter ran as follows:—
“Dear Aunt,—You will doubtless be surprised to receive a letter from me. It must be brief; the post leaves in an hour. Since I saw you we have had a charming voyage out, but at the last we ran on a rocky island off the coast of China, and became a total wreck in a few minutes.”
“Dear Aunt,—You will doubtless be surprised to receive a letter from me. It must be brief; the post leaves in an hour. Since I saw you we have had a charming voyage out, but at the last we ran on a rocky island off the coast of China, and became a total wreck in a few minutes.”
At this point Miss Pritty gasped “oh!” and fainted—at least she went into a perfect semblance of the state of coma, but as she recovered suddenly, and appealed to the letter again with intense earnestness, it may have been something else that was the matter. She resumed her perusal:—
“We succeeded in getting a hawser on shore, by means of which, through God’s mercy, nearly all the passengers were saved, including, of course, your friend Miss Hazlit and her father. It is mournful to have to add, however, that before the work was finished the wreck slipped into deep water and sank with all her crew on board. We remained only one day on the rock, when a passing ship observed our signals, took us off, and carried us safely into Hong-Kong.“Mr Hazlit and his daughter immediately left for—I know not where! I remained here to make some inquiries about the wreck, which I am told contains a large amount of gold coin. Now, I want you to take the enclosed letter to my father’s old servant, Joe Baldwin; help him to read it, if necessary, and to answer it by return of post. It is important; therefore, dear aunt, don’t delay. I think you know Baldwin’s address, as I’ve been told he lives in the district of the town which you are wont to visit. Excuse this shabby scrawl, and the trouble I ask you to take, and believe me to be your loving nephew, Edgar Berrington.”
“We succeeded in getting a hawser on shore, by means of which, through God’s mercy, nearly all the passengers were saved, including, of course, your friend Miss Hazlit and her father. It is mournful to have to add, however, that before the work was finished the wreck slipped into deep water and sank with all her crew on board. We remained only one day on the rock, when a passing ship observed our signals, took us off, and carried us safely into Hong-Kong.
“Mr Hazlit and his daughter immediately left for—I know not where! I remained here to make some inquiries about the wreck, which I am told contains a large amount of gold coin. Now, I want you to take the enclosed letter to my father’s old servant, Joe Baldwin; help him to read it, if necessary, and to answer it by return of post. It is important; therefore, dear aunt, don’t delay. I think you know Baldwin’s address, as I’ve been told he lives in the district of the town which you are wont to visit. Excuse this shabby scrawl, and the trouble I ask you to take, and believe me to be your loving nephew, Edgar Berrington.”
Miss Pritty was a prompt little woman. Instead of finishing her tea she postponed that meal to an indefinite season, threw on her bonnet and shawl, and left her humble abode abruptly.
Joe Baldwin was enjoying a quiet pipe at his own fireside—in company with his buxom wife and his friends Mr and Mrs Rooney Machowl—when Miss Pritty tripped up to his door and knocked.
She was received warmly, for Joe sympathised with her affectionate and self-denying spirit, and Mrs Joe believed in her. Woe to the unfortunate in whom Mrs Joe—aliasSusan—didnotbelieve.
“Come away, Miss,—glad to see you—always so,” said Joe, wiping a chair with his cap and extinguishing his pipe out of deference; “sit down, Miss.”
Miss Pritty bowed all round, wished each of the party good-evening by name, and seating herself beside the little fire as easily and unceremoniously as though it had been her own, drew forth her letter.
“This is for you, Mr Baldwin,” she said; “it came enclosed in one to me, and is from my nephew, Edgar Berrington, who says it is important.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Joe, taking the letter, opening it, and looking at it inquiringly.
“Now Miss,” said he, “it’s of no manner o’ use my tryin’ to make it out. You mustn’t suppose, Miss, that divers can’t read. There’s many of ’em who have got a good education in the three R’s, an’ some who have gone further. For the matter of that I can read print easy enough, as you know, but I never was good at pot-hooks and hangers, d’ee see; therefore I’ll be obliged, Miss, if you’ll read it to me.”
Miss Pritty graciously acceded to the request, and read:—
“Dear Baldwin,—My aunt, Miss Pritty, who will hand this letter to you, will tell you about our being wrecked. Now, in regard to that I have a proposal to make. First, let me explain. The wreck of theWarrior, after slipping off the ledge on which she struck, sank in twenty fathoms water. On our arrival at Hong-Kong, the agent of the owners sent off to see what could be done in the way of recovering the treasure on board—there being no less than fifty thousand pounds sterling in gold in her treasure-room, besides valuables belonging to passengers. A Lloyds’ agent also visited the place, and both came to the conclusion that it was utterly impossible to recover anything from such a depth by means of divers. This being so, and I happening to be on the spot, offered to purchase the right to recover and appropriate all the gold I could fish up. They laughed at me as a wild enthusiast, but, regarding the thing as hopeless themselves, were quite willing to let me have the wreck, etcetera, for what you would call ‘an old song.’ Now, although nominally a ‘penniless man,’ I do happen to possess a small property, in the form of a block of old houses in Newcastle, which were left to me by an uncle, and which I have never seen. On these I have raised sufficient money for my purpose, and I intend to make the venture, being convinced that with the new and almost perfect apparatus now turned out in London by our submarine engineers, bold divers may reach even a greater depth than twenty fathoms. My proposal then is, that you should come to my aid. I will divide all we bring up into three equal portions. One of these you shall have, one I’ll keep to myself, and the third shall be shared equally by such divers as you think it advisable to employ. What say you? Do the prospects and terms suit, and will you come without delay? If so, reply at once, and send all the requisite material to this place. Be particular to bring dresses made by the first makers in London. I wish this to be a sort of semi-scientific experiment—to recover property from a great depth, to test the powers and properties of the various apparatus now in use and recently invented, and, while so doing, to make my fortune as well as yours, and that of all concerned! Perhaps you think the idea a wild one. Well, it may be so, but wilder ideas than this have been realised. Remember the noble house of Mulgrave!—Yours truly,—“Edgar Berrington.”
“Dear Baldwin,—My aunt, Miss Pritty, who will hand this letter to you, will tell you about our being wrecked. Now, in regard to that I have a proposal to make. First, let me explain. The wreck of theWarrior, after slipping off the ledge on which she struck, sank in twenty fathoms water. On our arrival at Hong-Kong, the agent of the owners sent off to see what could be done in the way of recovering the treasure on board—there being no less than fifty thousand pounds sterling in gold in her treasure-room, besides valuables belonging to passengers. A Lloyds’ agent also visited the place, and both came to the conclusion that it was utterly impossible to recover anything from such a depth by means of divers. This being so, and I happening to be on the spot, offered to purchase the right to recover and appropriate all the gold I could fish up. They laughed at me as a wild enthusiast, but, regarding the thing as hopeless themselves, were quite willing to let me have the wreck, etcetera, for what you would call ‘an old song.’ Now, although nominally a ‘penniless man,’ I do happen to possess a small property, in the form of a block of old houses in Newcastle, which were left to me by an uncle, and which I have never seen. On these I have raised sufficient money for my purpose, and I intend to make the venture, being convinced that with the new and almost perfect apparatus now turned out in London by our submarine engineers, bold divers may reach even a greater depth than twenty fathoms. My proposal then is, that you should come to my aid. I will divide all we bring up into three equal portions. One of these you shall have, one I’ll keep to myself, and the third shall be shared equally by such divers as you think it advisable to employ. What say you? Do the prospects and terms suit, and will you come without delay? If so, reply at once, and send all the requisite material to this place. Be particular to bring dresses made by the first makers in London. I wish this to be a sort of semi-scientific experiment—to recover property from a great depth, to test the powers and properties of the various apparatus now in use and recently invented, and, while so doing, to make my fortune as well as yours, and that of all concerned! Perhaps you think the idea a wild one. Well, it may be so, but wilder ideas than this have been realised. Remember the noble house of Mulgrave!—Yours truly,—
“Edgar Berrington.”
The last sentence in the letter referred to a fact in the history of diving which is worthy of mention. In or about the year 1683 a man named Phipps, the son of an American blacksmith, was smitten with a mania, then prevalent, for recovering treasure from sunken wrecks by means of diving. He succeeded in fishing up a small amount from the wreck of a Spanish galleon off the coast of Hispaniola, which, however, did not pay expenses. Being a man of indomitable perseverance as well as enthusiasm, Phipps continued his experiments with varying success, and on one occasion—if not more—succeeded in reducing himself to poverty. But the blacksmith’s son was made of tough material—as though he had been carefully fashioned on his father’s anvil. He was a man of strong faith, and this, in material as well as spiritual affairs, can remove mountains. He was invincibly convinced of the practicability of his schemes. As is usual in such men, he had the power to impart his faith to others. He had moved Charles the Second to assist him in his first efforts, which had failed, but was unable to similarly influence the cautious—not to say close-fisted—James the Second. The Duke of Albemarle, however, proved more tractable. Through his aid and influence, and with funds obtained from the public, Phipps was enabled in 1687 once more to try his fortune. He set sail in a 200-ton vessel, and after many fruitless efforts succeeded in raising from a depth of between six and seven fathoms, (considered but a small depth now-a-days) property to the value of about 300,000 pounds. Of this sum the usurious Earl obtained as his share 90,000 pounds while Phipps received 20,000 pounds. Although James the Second had refused to aid in the expedition, he had the wisdom to recognise the good service done to mankind in the saving of so much valuable property at so great personal risk. He knighted Phipps, who thus became the founder of the house of Mulgrave—now represented by the Marquis of Normanby.
When Miss Pritty had concluded the letter, Joe Baldwin turned to Rooney Machowl:—
“What think you, lad,” he said, “would you venture down to twenty fathom?”
“To twenty thousand fathom, if you’ll consint to watch the pumps and howld the life-line,” replied the daring son of Erin.
“Will you let me go, Susan?” said Baldwin, turning to his wife.
“How could I hinder you, Joe?” answered Mrs Baldwin, with a face reddened by suppressed emotion at the bare idea.
“And will you go with me, Susan?”
“I’d sooner go to the—” she stopped, unable to decide as to what part of earth she would not sooner go to than China, but not being versed in geography she finished by asserting that she’d sooner go to the moon!
Pretty little Mrs Machowl, on the contrary, vowed that no power on earth should separate between her and her Rooney, and that if he went she should go, and the baby too.
“Well then, Miss,” said Baldwin to his visitor, “if you’ll be so kind as to write for me I’ll be obliged. Say to Mister Eddy—I can’t forget the old name, you see—that I’m agreeable; that I’ll undertake the job, along with Rooney Machowl here, and mayhap another man or two. I’ll get all the dresses and apparatus he requires, and will set sail as soon as I can; but, you see, I can’t well start right off, because I’ve a job or two on hand. I’ve a well to go down an’ putt right, an’ I’ve some dock repairs to finish. However, to save time I’ll send Rooney off at once with one dress and apparatus, so that they can be tryin’ experiments till I arrive—which will be by the following steamer.Now, Miss, d’you think you can tell him all that?”
“I will try,” said Miss Pritty, making rapid entries in a small note-book, after completing which and putting a few more questions she hurried home.
Meanwhile Rooney’s wife went off to make arrangements for a long voyage, and a probably prolonged residence in foreign parts, and Joe Baldwin went to visit the well he had engaged to descend, taking Rooney as his assistant. During his visit to this well, Joe underwent some experiences, both physical and mental, which tried his nerve and courage more severely than any descent he had ever made in the open sea.
It is a well-known fact among divers that various temperaments are suited to various works, and that, among other things, many men who are bold enough in open water lose courage in confined places such as wells. They say—so powerful is imagination!—that they “cannot breathe” down in a well, though, of course, the means of breathing is the same in all cases. Joe Baldwin, being gifted with cool blood and strong nerves, and possessing very little imagination, was noted among his fellows for his readiness and ability to venture anywhere under water and do anything.
The well in question was connected with the waterworks of a neighbouring town. Having got himself and his apparatus conveyed thither he spent the night in the town and proceeded on the following morning at day-break to inspect the scene of his operations.
The well was an old one and very deep—about fifteen fathoms. That, however, was a matter of small importance to our diver. What concerned him most was the narrowness of the manhole or entrance at the top, and the generally dilapidated state of the whole affair.
The well, instead of being a circular hole in the ground lined with brick, like ordinary wells, was composed of huge iron cylinders four feet in diameter, fitted together and sunk ninety feet into the ground. This vast tube or circular iron well rested on a foundation of brick-work. When sunk to its foundation its upper edge was just level with the ground. Inside of this tube there were a variety of cross-beams, and a succession of iron ladders zigzagging from top to bottom, so that it could be descended when empty. At the time of Joe’s visit it was found nearly full of water. Down the centre of the well ran two iron pipes, or pumps, each having a “rose” at its lower end, through which the water could be sucked and pumped up to a reservoir a hundred feet high for the supply of the town. These two pumps were worked by an engine whose distinguishing features were noise and rickets. It could, however, just do its work; but, recently, something had gone wrong with one of the pumps—no water was thrown up by it. Two results followed. On the one hand the water-supply to the town became insufficient, and, on the other, the surplus water in the well could not be pumped out so as to permit of a man descending to effect repairs. In these circumstances a diver became absolutely necessary. Hence the visit of Baldwin and Machowl.
“Now then, diver,” said the managing engineer of the works to Joe, after he had examined everything above ground with care, “you see it is impossible to pump the well dry, because of the defective pump and the strength of the spring which feeds it. Water is admitted into the great cylinder through a number of holes in the bottom. These holes therefore must be stopped. In order to this, you will have to descend in the water with a bag of wooden pegs and a hammer—all of which are ready for you—and plug up these holes. You see, the work to be done is simple enough.”
“Ay,” asserted Baldwin, “but the way how to set about it ain’t so simple or clear. How, for instance, is a man of my size to squeeze through that hole at the top?”
“Youarelarge,” said the engineer, regarding the diver for a moment, “but not too large, I should think, to squeeze through.”
“What! With a divin’ dress on?”
“Ah, true; I fear that is a puzzling difficulty at the outset, for you see the well is frail, and we dare not venture to enlarge the hole by cutting the beams that support the pumps.”
While he was speaking the diver put his head through the hole in question, and gazed down into darkness visible where water was dripping and gurgling, and hissing a sort of accompaniment to the discordant clanking and jarring of the pump-rods. The rickety engine that worked them kept puffing close alongside—grinding out a horrible addition to the din. As his eyes became more accustomed to the subdued light, Baldwin could see that there was an empty space between the surface of the water and the top of the well, great part of the first length ofzigzagladder being visible, and also the cross-beams on which its foot rested. He also observed various green slimy beams, which being perpetually moistened by droppings from the pumps, seemed alive like water snakes.
“Well,” said the diver, withdrawing his head, “I’ll try it. I’ll dress inside there. You’re sure o’ the old ingine, I fancy?”
“It has not yet failed us,” answered the engineer, with a smile.
“What would happen if it broke or stopped working?” asked Joe.
“The well would fill to the brim and overflow in a minute or two.”
“So that,” rejoined the diver, “if it caught me in the middle o’ dressin’, me and my mate would be drownded.”
“You’d stand a good chance of coming to that end,” replied the engineer, with a laugh. “Your mate might get out in time, but as you say the dress would prevent you getting back through the hole, there would be no hope foryou.”
“Well then, we’ll begin,” said Baldwin; “come, Rooney, get the gear in order.” So saying, the adventurous man went to work with his wonted energy. The air-pumps were set up, and two men of the works instructed in the use of them. Then Baldwin squeezed himself with difficulty through the manhole, and the dress was passed down to him. Rooney then squeezed himself through, and both went a few steps down the iron ladder until they stood on the cross-beams behind and underneath it. The position was exceedingly awkward, for the ladder obliged them to stoop, and they did not dare to move their feet except with caution, for fear of slipping off the beams into the water—in which, even as it was, they were ankle-deep while standing on the beams. They were soon soaked to the skin by the drippings and spirtings from the pipes, and almost incapable of hearing each other speak, owing to the din. If Rooney had dropped the lead-soled boots or the shoulder-weights, they would have sunk at once beyond recovery, and have rendered the descent of the diver very difficult if not impossible.
Realising all this, the two comrades proceeded with great care and slowness. Dressing a diver in the most favourable circumstances involves a considerable amount of physical exertion and violence of action. It may therefore be well believed that in the case of which we write, a long time elapsed before Baldwin got the length of putting on his helmet. At last it was screwed on. Then a hammer and a bagful of wooden pins were placed in his hands.
“Now, Joe, are ye aisy?” asked Rooney, holding the front-glass in his hand, preparatory to sealing his friend up.
“All right,” answered Baldwin.
“Set a-goin’ the air-pumps up there,” shouted Rooney, from whose face the perspiration flowed freely, as much from anxiety about his friend as from prolonged exertion in a constrained attitude.
In a few seconds the air came hissing into the helmet, showing that the two men who wrought it were equal to their duty, though inexperienced.
“All right?” asked Rooney a second time.
The reply was given, “Yes,” and the bull’s-eye was screwed on.
Rooney then sprang up the ladder and through the manhole; took his station at the signal-line and air-pipe, while the engineer of the works watched the air-pump. The rickety steam-engine was then stopped, and, as had been predicted, the water rose quickly. It rose over Baldwin’s knees, waist, and head, and, finally, rushed out at the manhole, deluging Rooney’s legs.
Our diver was now fairly imprisoned; an accident, however trifling in itself, that should stop the air-pump would have been his death-knell. Fully impressed with this uncomfortable assurance, he felt his way slowly down the second ladder, knocking his head slightly against cross-beams as he went, holding on tightly to his bag and hammer, and getting down into darkness so profound as to be “felt.” He soon reached the head of the third ladder, and then the fourth.
But here, at a depth of about thirty feet, an unexpected difficultyoccurred which had well-nigh caused a failure. The head of the fourth ladder was covered with wood, through which a square manhole led to the bottom of the well. Of course Joe Baldwin discovered this only by touch, and great was his anxiety when, passing his hand round it, he found the hole to be too small for his broad shoulders to pass. At this point, he afterwards admitted, he “felt rather curious,” the whole structure being very frail. However, with characteristic determination he muttered to himself, “never mind, Joe, do it if you can,” and down he went through the hole, putting one arm down with his body, and holding the other up and drawing it down after him, by which process he squeezed his shoulders through at an angle. After reaching the bottom of the well, a feeling of alarm seized him lest he should be unable to force his way upwards through the hole. To settle this question at once he ascended to it, forced himself through, and then, being easy in mind, he redescended to the bottom and went to work with the hammer and wooden pegs.
At first he had some difficulty in finding the holes in the great cylinder, but after a dozen of them had been plugged it became easier, as the water rushed in through the remaining holes with greater force. While thus engaged his foot suddenly slipped. To save himself from falling—he knew not whither—he let go the bag of pegs and the hammer—the first of which went upwards and the latter down. To find the hammer in total darkness among the brick-work at the bottom was hopeless, therefore Joe signalled that he was coming up, and started for the top after the bag, but failed to find it. In much perplexity he went to the upper manhole and put up one of his hands.
To those who were inexperienced it was somewhat alarming to see the hand of an apparently drowning man with the fingers wriggling violently, but Rooney understood matters.
“Arrah, now,” said he, giving the hand a friendly shake, “it’s somethin’ you’re wantin’, sure. What a pity it is wan can’t spake wid his fingers!”
Presently the hand shut itself as if grasping something, and moved in a distinct and steady manner.
“Och! It’s a hammer he wants. He’s gone an’ lost it. Here you are, boy—there’s another.”
The hand disappeared, transferred the implement to the left hand, and reappeared, evidently asking for more.
“What now, boy?” muttered Rooney, with a perplexed look.
“Doubtless he wants more pegs,” said the engineer of the works, coming up at the moment.
“Sure, sur, that can’t be it, for if he’d lost his pegs wouldn’t they have comed up an’ floated?”
“They’ve caught somewhere, no doubt, among the timbers on the way up. Anyhow, I had provided against such an accident,” said the engineer, putting another bag of pegs into the impatient hand.
It seemed satisfied, and disappeared at once.
Joe returned to the bottom, and succeeded in plugging every hole, so that the water from the outside spring could not enter. That done, he ascended, and signalled to the engineer to begin pumping. The rickety engine was set to work, and soon reduced the water so much that Rooney was able to re-descend and undress his friend. Thereafter, in about five hours, the well was pumped dry. The engineer then went down, and soon discovered that one of the pump-rods had been broken near the foot, and that its bucket lay useless at the bottom of the pipe. The repairs could now be easily made, and our divers, having finished their difficult and somewhat dangerous job, returned home. (See Note 1.)
Next day Joe Baldwin paid a visit to the neighbouring harbour, where a new part of the pier was being built by divers. His object was to sound our surly friend David Maxwell about joining him in his intended trip to the antipodes, for Maxwell was a first-rate diver, though a somewhat cross-grained man.
Maxwell was under water when he arrived. It was Baldwin’s duty to superintend part of the works. He therefore went down, and met his man at the bottom of the sea. Joe took a small school-slate with him, and a piece of pencil—for, the depth being not more than a couple of fathoms, it was possible to see to read and write there.
The spot where Maxwell wrought was at the extreme end of the unfinished part of the breakwater. He was busily engaged at the time in laying a large stone which hung suspended to a travelling-crane connected with the temporary works overhead. Joe refrained from interrupting him. Another man assisted him. In the diver fraternity, there are men who thoroughly understand all sorts of handicrafts—there are blacksmiths, carpenters, stone-masons, etcetera. Maxwell was a skilled mechanic, and could do his work as well under water as many a man does above it—perhaps better than some! The bed for the stone had been carefully prepared on a mass of solid masonry which had been already laid. By means of the signal-line Maxwell directed the men in charge of the crane to move it forward, backward, to the right or to the left, as required. At last it hung precisely over the required spot, and was lowered into its final resting-place.
Then Baldwin tapped Maxwell on the shoulder. The latter looked earnestly in at the window—if we may so call it—of his visitor, and, recognising Joe, shook hands with him. Joe pointed to a rock, and sat down. Maxwell sat down beside him, and then ensued the following conversation. Using the slate, Baldwin wrote in large printed letters:—
“I’ve got a splendid offer to go out to dive in the China seas. Are you game to go?”
Taking the slate and pencil, Maxwell wrote—“Game for anything!”
“We must finish this job first,” wrote Joe, “and I shall send Rooney out before us with some of the gear—to be ready.”
“All right,” was Maxwell’s laconic answer.
Baldwin nodded approval of this, but the nod was lost on his comrade owing to the fact that his helmet was immovably fixed to his shoulders. Maxwell evidently understood it, however, for he replied with a nod which was equally lost on his comrade. They then shook hands on it, and Joe, touching his signal-line four times, spurned the ground with a light fantastic toe, and shot to the realms above like a colossal cherub.
Note 1. A “job” precisely similar to this was undertaken, and successfully accomplished by Corporal Falconer of the Royal Engineers, and assistant-instructor in diving, from whom we received the details. The gallant corporal was publicly thanked and promoted for his courage and daring in this and other diving operations.
Chapter Twelve.Diving Practice Extraordinary in the East.In a certain street of Hong-Kong there stands one of those temples in which men devote themselves to the consumption of opium, that terrible drug which is said to destroy the natives of the celestial empire more fatally than “strong drink” does the peoples of the west. In various little compartments of this temple, many celestials lay in various conditions of debauch. Among them was a stout youth of twenty or so. He was in the act of lighting the little pipe from which the noxious vapour is inhaled. His fat and healthy visage proved that he had only commenced his downward career.He had scarce drawn a single whiff, however, when a burly sailor-like man in an English garb entered the temple, went straight to the compartment where our beginner reclined, plucked the pipe from his hand, and dashed it on the ground.“Iknow’dye was here,” said the man, sternly, “an’ Isaidyou was here, an’ sure haven’t Ifoundyou here—you spalpeen! You pig-faced bag o’ fat! What d’ee mane by it, Chok-foo? Didn’t I say I’d give you as much baccy as ye could chaw or smoke an ye’d only kape out o’ this place? Come along wid ye!”It is perhaps scarcely necessary to say that the man who spoke, and who immediately collared and dragged Chok-foo away, was none other than our friend Rooney Machowl. That worthy had been sent to China in advance of the party of divers with his wife and baby—for in the event of success he said he’d be able to “affoord it,” and in the event of failure he meant to try his luck in “furrin’ parts,” and would on no account leave either wife or chick behind him.On his arrival a double misfortune awaited him. First he found that his employer, Edgar Berrington, was laid up with fever, in the house of an English friend, and could not be spoken to, or even seen; and second, the lodging in which he had put up caught fire the second night after his arrival, and was burnt to the ground, with all its contents, including nearly the whole of his diving apparatus. Fortunately, the unlucky Irishman saved his wife and child and money, the last having been placed in a leathern belt made for the purpose, and worn night and day round his waist. Being a resolute and hopeful man, Rooney determined to hunt up a diving apparatus of some sort, if such was to be found in China, and he succeeded. He found, in an old iron-and-rag-store sort of place, a very ancient head-piece and dress, which were in good repair though of primitive construction. Fortunately, his own pumps and air-pipes, having been deposited in an out-house, had escaped the general conflagration.Rooney was a man of contrivance and resource. He soon fitted the pump to the new dress and found that it worked well, though the helmet was destitute of the modern regulating valves under the diver’s control, and he knew that it must needs therefore leave the diver who should use it very much at the mercy of the men who worked the pumps.After the fire, Rooney removed with his family to the house of a Chinese labourer named Chok-foo, whose brother, Ram-stam, dwelt with him. They were both honest hard-working men, but Chok-foo was beginning, as we have seen, to fall under the baleful influence of opium-smoking. Ram-stam may be said to have been a teetotaler in this respect. They were both men of humble spirit.Chok-foo took the destruction of his pipe and the rough collaring that followed in good part, protesting, in an extraordinary jargon, which is styled Pidgin-English, that he had only meant to have a “Very littee smokee,” not being able, just then, to resist the temptation.“Blathers!” said Rooney, as they walked along in the direction of the lower part of the town, “you could resist the timptation aisy av you’d only try, for you’re only beginnin’, an’ it hasn’t got howld of ’ee yit. Look at your brother Ram, now; why don’t ’ee take example by him?”“Yis, Ram-stam’s first-chop boy,” said Chok-foo, with a penitential expression on his fat visage.“Well, then, you try and be a first-chop boy too, Chok, an’ it’ll be better for you. Now, you see, you’ve kep’ us all waiting for full half an hour, though we was so anxious to try how the dress answers.”In a few minutes the son of Erin and the Chinaman entered the half ruinous pagoda which was their habitation. Here little Mrs Machowl was on her knees before an air-pump, oiling and rubbing up its parts. Ram-stam, with clasped hands, head a little on one side, and a gentle smile of approbation on his lips, admired the progress of the operation.“Now then, Chok and Ram,” said Rooney, sitting down on a stool and making the two men stand before him like a small awkward squad, “I’m goin’ to taich you about pumps an’ pumpin’, so pay attintion av ye plaze. Hids up an’ ears on full cock! Now then.”Here the vigorous diver began an elaborate explanation which we will spare the reader, and which his pupils evidently did not comprehend, though they smiled with ineffable sweetness and listened with close attention. When, however, the teacher descended from theory to practice, and took the pump to pieces, put it up again, and showed the manner of working, the Chinamen became more intelligent, and soon showed that they could turn the handles with great vigour. They were hopelessly stupid, however, in regard to the use of the signal-line—insomuch that Rooney began to despair.“Niver mind, boys,” he cried, hopefully, “we’ll try it.”Accordingly he donned the diving-dress, and teaching his wife how to screw on the bull’s-eye, he gave the signal to “pump away.”Of course Chok-foo and Ram-stam, though anxious to do well, did ill continually. When Rooney, standing in the room and looking at them, signalled to give “more air,” they became anxious and gave him less, until his dress was nearly empty. When he signalled for “less air” they gave him more, until his dress nearly burst, and then, not having the breast-valve, he was obliged to unscrew his front-glass to prevent an explosion! At last the perplexed man resolved to make his wife do duty as attender to signals, and was fortunate in this arrangement at first, for Molly was quick of apprehension. She soon understood all about it, and, receiving her husband’s signals, directed the Chinamen what to do. In order to test his assistants better, he then went out on the verandah of the pagoda, where the pumpers could not see him nor he them. He was, of course, fully dressed, only the bull’s-eye was not fixed.“Now, Molly, dear,” said he, “go to work just as if I was goin’ under water.”Molly dimpled her cheeks with a smile as she held up the glass, and said, “Are ye ready?”“Not yet; putt your lips here first.”He stooped; Molly inserted part of her face into the circular hole, and a smack resounded in the helmet.“Now, cushla, I’m ready.”“Pump away, boys,” shouted the energetic little woman.As soon as she heard the hiss of the air in the helmet, she screwed on the bull’s-eye, and our diver was as much shut off from surrounding atmosphere as if he had been twenty fathoms under the sea. Then she went to where the pumpers were at work, and taking the air-pipe in one hand and the life-line in the other, awaited signals. These were soon sent from the verandah. More air was demanded and given; less was asked and the pumpers wrought gently. Molly gave one pull at the life-line, “All right?” Rooney replied, “All right.” This was repeated several times. Then came four sharp pulls at the line. Molly was on the alert; she bid Ram-stam continue to pump while Chok-foo helped her to pull the diver forcibly out of the verandah into the interior of the pagoda amid shouts of laughter, in which Rooney plainly joined though his voice could not be heard.“Capital, Molly,” exclaimed the delighted husband when his glass was off; “I always belaved—an’ I belave it now more than iver—that a purty woman is fit for anything. After a few more experiments like that I’ll go down in shallow wather wid an aisy mind.”Rooney kept his word. When he deemed his assistants perfect at their work, he went one morning to the river with all his gear, hired a boat, pushed off till he had got into two fathoms water, and then, dressing himself with the aid of the Chinamen, prepared to descend.“Are you ready?” asked his wife.“Yis, cushla, but you’ve forgot the kiss.”“Am I to kissallthe divers we shall have to do with before sending them down?” she asked.“If you wantallthe divers to be kicked you may,” was the reply.Molly cut short further remark by giving the order to pump, and affixing the glass. For a few seconds the diver looked earnestly at the Chinamen and at his better half, who may have been said to hold his life in her hands. Then he stepped boldly on the short ladder that had been let down outside the boat, and was soon lost to view in the multitude of air-bells that rose above him.Now, Rooney had neglected to take into his calculations the excitability of female nerves. It was all very well for his wife to remember everything and proceed correctly when he was in the verandah of the pagoda, but when she knew that her best-beloved was at the bottom of the sea, and saw the air-bells rising, her courage vanished, and with her courage went her presence of mind. A rush of alarm entered her soul as she saw the boiling of the water, and fancying she was giving too much air, she said hurriedly, “Pump slow, boys,” but immediately conceiving she had done wrong, she said, “Pump harder, boys.”The Chinamen pumped with a will, for they also had become excited, and were only too glad to obey orders.A signal-pull now came for “Less air,” but Molly had taken up an idea, and it could not be dislodged. She thought it must be “More air” that was wanted.“Pump away, boys—pump,” she cried, in rapidly increasing alarm.Chok-foo and Ram-stam obeyed.The signal was repeated somewhat impatiently.“Pump away, boys; for dear life—pump,” cried the little woman in desperate anxiety.Perspiration rolled down the cheeks of Chok-foo and Ram-stam as they gasped for breath and turned the handles with all the strength they possessed.“Pump—oh! Pump—for pity’s sake.”She ended with a wild shriek, for at that moment thewaves were cleft alongside, and Rooney Machowl came up from the bottom, feet foremost, with a bounce that covered the sea with foam. He had literally been blown up from the bottom—his dress being filled with so much compressed air that he had become like a huge bladder, and despite all his weights, he rolled helplessly on the surface in vain attempts to get his head up and his feet down.Of course his distracted wife hauled in on the life-line with all her might, and Chok-foo and Ram-stam, forsaking the pump, lent their aid and soon hauled the luckless diver into the boat, when his first act was to deal the Chinamen a cuff each that sent one into the stern-sheets on his nose, and the other into the bow on his back. Immediately thereafter he fell down as if senseless, and Molly, with trembling hands, unscrewed the bull’s-eye.Her horror may be imagined when she beheld the countenance of her husband as pale as death, while blood flowed copiously from his mouth, ears, and nostrils.“Niver mind, cushla!” he said, faintly, “I’ll be all right in a minute. This couldn’t have happened if I’d had one o’ the noo helmets.—Git off my—”“Ochone! He’s fainted!” cried Mrs Machowl; “help me, boys.”In a few minutes Rooney’s helmet was removed and he began to recover, but it was not until several days had elapsed that he was completely restored; so severe had been the consequences of the enormous pressure to which his lungs and tissues had been subjected, by the powerful working of the pump on that memorable day by Ram-stam and Chok-foo.
In a certain street of Hong-Kong there stands one of those temples in which men devote themselves to the consumption of opium, that terrible drug which is said to destroy the natives of the celestial empire more fatally than “strong drink” does the peoples of the west. In various little compartments of this temple, many celestials lay in various conditions of debauch. Among them was a stout youth of twenty or so. He was in the act of lighting the little pipe from which the noxious vapour is inhaled. His fat and healthy visage proved that he had only commenced his downward career.
He had scarce drawn a single whiff, however, when a burly sailor-like man in an English garb entered the temple, went straight to the compartment where our beginner reclined, plucked the pipe from his hand, and dashed it on the ground.
“Iknow’dye was here,” said the man, sternly, “an’ Isaidyou was here, an’ sure haven’t Ifoundyou here—you spalpeen! You pig-faced bag o’ fat! What d’ee mane by it, Chok-foo? Didn’t I say I’d give you as much baccy as ye could chaw or smoke an ye’d only kape out o’ this place? Come along wid ye!”
It is perhaps scarcely necessary to say that the man who spoke, and who immediately collared and dragged Chok-foo away, was none other than our friend Rooney Machowl. That worthy had been sent to China in advance of the party of divers with his wife and baby—for in the event of success he said he’d be able to “affoord it,” and in the event of failure he meant to try his luck in “furrin’ parts,” and would on no account leave either wife or chick behind him.
On his arrival a double misfortune awaited him. First he found that his employer, Edgar Berrington, was laid up with fever, in the house of an English friend, and could not be spoken to, or even seen; and second, the lodging in which he had put up caught fire the second night after his arrival, and was burnt to the ground, with all its contents, including nearly the whole of his diving apparatus. Fortunately, the unlucky Irishman saved his wife and child and money, the last having been placed in a leathern belt made for the purpose, and worn night and day round his waist. Being a resolute and hopeful man, Rooney determined to hunt up a diving apparatus of some sort, if such was to be found in China, and he succeeded. He found, in an old iron-and-rag-store sort of place, a very ancient head-piece and dress, which were in good repair though of primitive construction. Fortunately, his own pumps and air-pipes, having been deposited in an out-house, had escaped the general conflagration.
Rooney was a man of contrivance and resource. He soon fitted the pump to the new dress and found that it worked well, though the helmet was destitute of the modern regulating valves under the diver’s control, and he knew that it must needs therefore leave the diver who should use it very much at the mercy of the men who worked the pumps.
After the fire, Rooney removed with his family to the house of a Chinese labourer named Chok-foo, whose brother, Ram-stam, dwelt with him. They were both honest hard-working men, but Chok-foo was beginning, as we have seen, to fall under the baleful influence of opium-smoking. Ram-stam may be said to have been a teetotaler in this respect. They were both men of humble spirit.
Chok-foo took the destruction of his pipe and the rough collaring that followed in good part, protesting, in an extraordinary jargon, which is styled Pidgin-English, that he had only meant to have a “Very littee smokee,” not being able, just then, to resist the temptation.
“Blathers!” said Rooney, as they walked along in the direction of the lower part of the town, “you could resist the timptation aisy av you’d only try, for you’re only beginnin’, an’ it hasn’t got howld of ’ee yit. Look at your brother Ram, now; why don’t ’ee take example by him?”
“Yis, Ram-stam’s first-chop boy,” said Chok-foo, with a penitential expression on his fat visage.
“Well, then, you try and be a first-chop boy too, Chok, an’ it’ll be better for you. Now, you see, you’ve kep’ us all waiting for full half an hour, though we was so anxious to try how the dress answers.”
In a few minutes the son of Erin and the Chinaman entered the half ruinous pagoda which was their habitation. Here little Mrs Machowl was on her knees before an air-pump, oiling and rubbing up its parts. Ram-stam, with clasped hands, head a little on one side, and a gentle smile of approbation on his lips, admired the progress of the operation.
“Now then, Chok and Ram,” said Rooney, sitting down on a stool and making the two men stand before him like a small awkward squad, “I’m goin’ to taich you about pumps an’ pumpin’, so pay attintion av ye plaze. Hids up an’ ears on full cock! Now then.”
Here the vigorous diver began an elaborate explanation which we will spare the reader, and which his pupils evidently did not comprehend, though they smiled with ineffable sweetness and listened with close attention. When, however, the teacher descended from theory to practice, and took the pump to pieces, put it up again, and showed the manner of working, the Chinamen became more intelligent, and soon showed that they could turn the handles with great vigour. They were hopelessly stupid, however, in regard to the use of the signal-line—insomuch that Rooney began to despair.
“Niver mind, boys,” he cried, hopefully, “we’ll try it.”
Accordingly he donned the diving-dress, and teaching his wife how to screw on the bull’s-eye, he gave the signal to “pump away.”
Of course Chok-foo and Ram-stam, though anxious to do well, did ill continually. When Rooney, standing in the room and looking at them, signalled to give “more air,” they became anxious and gave him less, until his dress was nearly empty. When he signalled for “less air” they gave him more, until his dress nearly burst, and then, not having the breast-valve, he was obliged to unscrew his front-glass to prevent an explosion! At last the perplexed man resolved to make his wife do duty as attender to signals, and was fortunate in this arrangement at first, for Molly was quick of apprehension. She soon understood all about it, and, receiving her husband’s signals, directed the Chinamen what to do. In order to test his assistants better, he then went out on the verandah of the pagoda, where the pumpers could not see him nor he them. He was, of course, fully dressed, only the bull’s-eye was not fixed.
“Now, Molly, dear,” said he, “go to work just as if I was goin’ under water.”
Molly dimpled her cheeks with a smile as she held up the glass, and said, “Are ye ready?”
“Not yet; putt your lips here first.”
He stooped; Molly inserted part of her face into the circular hole, and a smack resounded in the helmet.
“Now, cushla, I’m ready.”
“Pump away, boys,” shouted the energetic little woman.
As soon as she heard the hiss of the air in the helmet, she screwed on the bull’s-eye, and our diver was as much shut off from surrounding atmosphere as if he had been twenty fathoms under the sea. Then she went to where the pumpers were at work, and taking the air-pipe in one hand and the life-line in the other, awaited signals. These were soon sent from the verandah. More air was demanded and given; less was asked and the pumpers wrought gently. Molly gave one pull at the life-line, “All right?” Rooney replied, “All right.” This was repeated several times. Then came four sharp pulls at the line. Molly was on the alert; she bid Ram-stam continue to pump while Chok-foo helped her to pull the diver forcibly out of the verandah into the interior of the pagoda amid shouts of laughter, in which Rooney plainly joined though his voice could not be heard.
“Capital, Molly,” exclaimed the delighted husband when his glass was off; “I always belaved—an’ I belave it now more than iver—that a purty woman is fit for anything. After a few more experiments like that I’ll go down in shallow wather wid an aisy mind.”
Rooney kept his word. When he deemed his assistants perfect at their work, he went one morning to the river with all his gear, hired a boat, pushed off till he had got into two fathoms water, and then, dressing himself with the aid of the Chinamen, prepared to descend.
“Are you ready?” asked his wife.
“Yis, cushla, but you’ve forgot the kiss.”
“Am I to kissallthe divers we shall have to do with before sending them down?” she asked.
“If you wantallthe divers to be kicked you may,” was the reply.
Molly cut short further remark by giving the order to pump, and affixing the glass. For a few seconds the diver looked earnestly at the Chinamen and at his better half, who may have been said to hold his life in her hands. Then he stepped boldly on the short ladder that had been let down outside the boat, and was soon lost to view in the multitude of air-bells that rose above him.
Now, Rooney had neglected to take into his calculations the excitability of female nerves. It was all very well for his wife to remember everything and proceed correctly when he was in the verandah of the pagoda, but when she knew that her best-beloved was at the bottom of the sea, and saw the air-bells rising, her courage vanished, and with her courage went her presence of mind. A rush of alarm entered her soul as she saw the boiling of the water, and fancying she was giving too much air, she said hurriedly, “Pump slow, boys,” but immediately conceiving she had done wrong, she said, “Pump harder, boys.”
The Chinamen pumped with a will, for they also had become excited, and were only too glad to obey orders.
A signal-pull now came for “Less air,” but Molly had taken up an idea, and it could not be dislodged. She thought it must be “More air” that was wanted.
“Pump away, boys—pump,” she cried, in rapidly increasing alarm.
Chok-foo and Ram-stam obeyed.
The signal was repeated somewhat impatiently.
“Pump away, boys; for dear life—pump,” cried the little woman in desperate anxiety.
Perspiration rolled down the cheeks of Chok-foo and Ram-stam as they gasped for breath and turned the handles with all the strength they possessed.
“Pump—oh! Pump—for pity’s sake.”
She ended with a wild shriek, for at that moment thewaves were cleft alongside, and Rooney Machowl came up from the bottom, feet foremost, with a bounce that covered the sea with foam. He had literally been blown up from the bottom—his dress being filled with so much compressed air that he had become like a huge bladder, and despite all his weights, he rolled helplessly on the surface in vain attempts to get his head up and his feet down.
Of course his distracted wife hauled in on the life-line with all her might, and Chok-foo and Ram-stam, forsaking the pump, lent their aid and soon hauled the luckless diver into the boat, when his first act was to deal the Chinamen a cuff each that sent one into the stern-sheets on his nose, and the other into the bow on his back. Immediately thereafter he fell down as if senseless, and Molly, with trembling hands, unscrewed the bull’s-eye.
Her horror may be imagined when she beheld the countenance of her husband as pale as death, while blood flowed copiously from his mouth, ears, and nostrils.
“Niver mind, cushla!” he said, faintly, “I’ll be all right in a minute. This couldn’t have happened if I’d had one o’ the noo helmets.—Git off my—”
“Ochone! He’s fainted!” cried Mrs Machowl; “help me, boys.”
In a few minutes Rooney’s helmet was removed and he began to recover, but it was not until several days had elapsed that he was completely restored; so severe had been the consequences of the enormous pressure to which his lungs and tissues had been subjected, by the powerful working of the pump on that memorable day by Ram-stam and Chok-foo.
Chapter Thirteen.Treasure recovered—Accidents encountered—An unexpected Discovery—Enemies met and circumvented.It is pleasant to loll in the sunshine on a calm day in the stern of a boat and gaze down into unfathomable depths, as one listens to the slow, regular beating of the oars, and the water rippling against the prow—and especially pleasant is this when one in such circumstances is convalescent after a prolonged and severe illness.So thought Edgar Berrington one lovely morning, some months after the events related in the last chapter, as he was being rowed gently over the fair bosom of the China sea. The boat—a large one with a little one towing astern—was so far from the coast that no land could be seen. A few sea-gulls sported round them, dipping their wings in the wave, or putting a plaintive question now and then to the rowers. Nothing else was visible except a rocky isle not far off that rose abruptly from the sea.“Well, we’re nearing the spot at last,” said Edgar, heaving that prolonged sigh which usually indicates one’s waking up from a pleasant reverie. “What a glorious world this is, Baldwin! How impressively it speaks to us of its Maker!”“Ay, whether in the calm or in the storm,” responded Joe.“Yes; it was under a very different aspect I saw this place last,” returned Edgar. “Yonder is the cliff now coming into view, where the vessel we are in search of went down.”“An ugly place,” remarked Joe, who was steering the boat. “Come boys, give way. The morning’s gittin’ on, an’ we must set to work as soon as ever we can. Time an’ tide, you know, etcetera.”Rooney, Maxwell, Chok-foo, and Ram-stam, who were rowing, bent to their work with a will, but the heavy boat did not respond heartily, being weighted with a large amount of diving gear. Just then a light breeze arose, and the boat, obedient to the higher power, bent over and rippled swiftly on.The only other individual on board was a Malay—the owner of the boat. He sat on the extreme end of the bow looking with a vacant gaze at the island. He was a man of large size and forbidding, though well-formed, features, and was clothed in a costume, half European half Oriental, which gave little clew to the nature of his profession—except that it savoured a good deal of the sea. His name, Dwarro, was, like his person, nondescript. Probably it was a corruption of his eastern cognomen. At all events it suffered further corruption from his companions in the boat, for Baldwin and Maxwell called him Dworro, while Rooney Machowl named him Dwarry. This diversity of pronunciation, however, seemed a matter of no consequence to the stolid boatman, who, when directly addressed, answered to any name that people chose to give him. He was taciturn—never spoke save when spoken to; and at such times used English so broken that it was difficult to put it together so as to make sense. He was there only in capacity of owner and guardian of the boat. Those who hired it would gladly have dispensed with his services, but he would not let them have it without taking himself into the bargain.Having reached the scene of the wreck of theWarrior, the party at once proceeded to sound and drag for it, and soon discovered its position, for it had not shifted much after slipping off the ledge, where it had met its doom on the night of the storm. Its depth under the surface was exactly twenty-three fathoms, or 138 feet.“It will try our metal,” observed Baldwin, “for the greatest depth that the Admiralty allow their divers to go down is twenty fathom.”“What o’ that?” growled Maxwell, “I’ve worked myself many a time in twenty-three fathom water, an’ll do it again any day.Wedon’t need to mind what the Admiralty says. The submarine engineers of London tell us they limit a man to twenty-five fathom, an’ they ought to know what’s possible if any one should.”“That’s true, David,” remarked Rooney, as he filled his pipe, “but I’ve heard of a man goin’ down twinty-eight fathom, an’ comin’ up alive.”“Oh, as to that,” said Berrington, “Ihave heard of one man who descended to thirty-four fathom, at which depth he must have sustained a pressure of 88 and a half pounds on every square inch of his body—andhecame up alive, but his case is an exception. It was fool-hardy, and he could do no effective work at such a depth. However, here we are, and here we must go to work with a will, whatever the depth be. You and I, Joe, shall descend first. The others will look after us. I’ll put on a Siebe and Gorman dress. You will don one of Heinke and Davis, and we’ll take down with us one of Denayrouze’s lamps, reserving Siebe’s electric light for a future occasion.”In pursuance of these plans the boat was moored over the place where the wreck lay, a short ladder was hung over the side of a smaller boat they had in tow with its pendent line and weight, the pumps were set up and rigged, the dresses were put on, and, in a short time our hero found himself in his old quarters down beside the great crank!But ah! What a change was there! The grinding had ceased for ever; the great crank’s labours were over, and its surface was covered with mud, sand, barnacles, and sea-weed, and involved in a maze of twisted iron and wrecked timbers—for the ship had broken her back in slipping into deep water, and wrenched her parts asunder into a state of violent confusion. Thick darkness prevailed at that depth, but Denayrouze’s lamp rendered the darkness visible, and sufficed to enable the divers to steer clear of bristling rods and twisted iron-bands that might otherwise have torn their dresses and endangered their lives.The work of inspection was necessarily slow as well as fraught with risk, for great difficulty was experienced while moving about, in preventing the entanglement of air-pipes and life-lines. The two men kept together, partly for company and partly to benefit mutually by the lamp. Presently they came on human bones tightly wedged between masses of timber. Turning from the sad spectacle, they descended into the cabin and made their way towards the place where Berrington knew that the treasure had been stowed. Here he found, with something like a shock of disappointment, that the stern of the vessel had been burst open, and the contents of the cabin swept out.On further inspection, however, the treasure-room was found to be uninjured. Putting down the lamp on an adjacent beam, Edgar lifted a heavy mass of wreck from the ground, and dashed the door in. The scene that presented itself was interesting. On the floor lay a number of little barrels, which the divers knew contained the gold they were in search of. Most of these were so riddled by worms that they were falling to pieces. Some, indeed, had partially given way, so that the piles of coin could be seen through the staves, and two or three had been so completely eaten away as to have fallen off, leaving the masses of gold in unbroken piles. There were also bags as well as kegs of coin, all more or less in a state of decay.The divers gazed at this sight for a few moments quite motionless. Then Edgar with one hand turned the lamp full on his companion’s front-glass so as to see his face, while with the other hand he pointed to the treasure. Joe’s eyes expressed surprise, and his mouth smiling satisfaction. Turning the light full on his own face to show his comrade that he was similarly impressed, Edgar motioned to Joe to sit down on an iron chest that stood in a corner, and giving the requisite signal with his life-line, went up to the surface. He did this very slowly in order to accustom his frame to the change of pressure both of air and water, for he was well aware of the danger of rapid ascent from such a depth. Soon after, he redescended, bearing several canvas sacks, some cord, and a couple of small crowbars. Placing the lamp in a convenient position, and throwing the bags on the floor of the treasure-room, Edgar and Baldwin set to work diligently with the crowbars, broke open the kegs, and emptied their golden contents into one of the bags, until it was quite full; tied up the mouth, fastened it to a rope which communicated with the boat above, and gave the signal to hoist away. The bag quickly rose and vanished.Previous to redescending, our hero had arranged with Rooney to have pieces of sail-cloth in readiness to wrap the bags in the instant of their being got into the small boat, so that when being transferred to the large boat’s locker, their form and contents might be concealed from the pilot, Dwarro. The precaution, however, did not seem to be necessary, for Dwarro was afflicted with laziness, and devoted himself entirely to the occupations of alternately smoking, in a dreamy way, and sleeping.For three hours the divers wrought under great excitement, as well as pressure, and then, feeling much exhausted, returned to the surface, having sent up the contents of about twenty boxes and kegs of treasure. Rooney and Maxwell then took their turn under water, and were equally successful.That night, being very calm and clear, they ran the boat into a sheltered crevice among the cliffs, and slept on board of her. Next morning at day-break they were again at work, but were not equally fortunate, for although plenty of treasure was sent up, several accidents occurred which were severe, though, happily, not fatal.In the first place, Baldwin tore his left hand badly while attempting to raise a heavy mass of ragged iron-plate that prevented his reaching some loose coin lying under it. This, though painful, did not render him altogether incapable of working. Then, while Edgar Berrington was passing from one part of the wreck to another, threading his way carefully, a mass of wire-ropes and other wreckage suddenly dropt from a position where it had been balanced, and felled him to the deck with such violence that for a few moments he was stunned. On recovering, he found to his horror that he was pressed down by the mass, and had got inextricably entangled with it. If his dress had been torn at that time, or his helmet damaged, it is certain that his adventures would have been finally cut short, and there can be no doubt that his preservation was largely owing to the excellence of the material of which his dress was made.But how to escape from his wire-cage was a difficulty he could not solve, for the lamp had been extinguished, and the entanglement of his line and air-pipe rendered signalling impossible. He continued to struggle helplessly, therefore, in total darkness. That the air-tube continued all right, was evident from the fact that air came down to him as before.In this dilemma he remained for a short time, occasionally managing to clear himself partially, and at other times becoming more and more involved.At last Rooney Machowl, who was attending to the lines above, bethought him that he had not received any signals for some time or observed any of those motions which usually indicate that a diver is busy below. He therefore gave a pull to the lifeline. Of course no answer was received.“Hallo!” exclaimed Rooney, with a start, for in diving operations Life and Death frequently stand elbowing each other.He gave another and still more decided pull, but no answer was returned.Jumping up in excitement, he attempted to haul on the line, so as to bring Edgar to the surface by force, but to his consternation he found it to be immovably fixed.“Hooroo! Man alive,” he yelled, rather than shouted, to Maxwell, who was attending the other line, “signal for Joe to come up—look sharp!”Maxwell obeyed with four strong quick pulls on Joe’s line, and Joe appeared at the surface rather sooner than was consistent with safety. On learning the cause of his being called, he infixed his bull’s-eye hastily; went down again with a heavy plunge, and discovering his companion, soon removed the wreck by which he was entangled, and set him free.Experience, it is said, teaches fools; much more does it instruct wise men. After this event our hero became a little more careful in his movements below.When a considerable amount of treasure had been recovered, it was thought advisable to return to the shore and place it in security.“It won’t be easy to manage this,” said Edgar to Baldwin in a low tone, as they sailed away from the rocky islet, under a light breeze. “I have an uncomfortable belief that that fellow Dwarro suspects the nature of the contents of these bags, despite our efforts at concealment.”“I don’t think he does,” whispered Baldwin. “He seems to me to be one o’ these miserable opium-smokers whose brains get too much fuddled to understand or care for anything.”“Whist now, don’t spake so loud,” said Rooney, advancing his head closer to his companions, and glancing doubtfully at the object of their suspicion; “sure he’s got a sharp countenance, fuddled or not fuddled.”The pilot had indeed an intelligent cast of countenance, but as he sat in a careless attitude in the bow of the boat smoking listlessly and gazing dreamily, almost stupidly, towards the shore, it did seem as though he had indulged too freely in the noxious drag which poisons so many inhabitants of these unhappy lands.As he was out of earshot, the four adventurers drew their heads still closer together, and talked eagerly about their prospects.“Sure our fortins is made already,” said Rooney; “how much d’ee think we’ve fished up, Mr Berrington?”“I cannot say, but at a rough guess I should think not less than twenty thousand pounds.”“Ye don’t main it? Och! Molly astore! Ye shall walk in silks an’ satins from this day forward—to say nothin’ of a carridge an’ four, if not six.”“But where’ll we putt it, sir?” asked Baldwin.“I’ve been thinking of that,” replied Edgar. “You see I don’t like the notion of running right into port with it, where this pilot has probably numerous friends who would aid him in making a dash for such a prize—supposing he has guessed what we are about. Now, I happen to have a trusty friend here, a young Scotchman, who lives in a quiet out-o’-the-way part. We’ll run up to his place, land the gold quickly, and get him to carry it off to some place of security—”“Whist, not so loud! I do belave,” said Rooney, “that rascal is cocking his weather ear.”“He don’t understand a word of English,” muttered Baldwin.Dwarro looked so intensely absent and sleepy as he sat lounging in the bow, that the divers felt relieved and continued, though in more cautious tones, to discuss their plans.Meanwhile the boat ran into the Hong-Kong river. As it proceeded, a small light boat or skiff was observed approaching. Baldwin, who steered, sheered out a little in the hope of avoiding her, but the man who sculled her conformed to the movement, and quickly shot past their bow—so closely that he could exchange salutations with the pilot. Nothing more appeared to pass between the two,—indeed there seemed no time for further communication—nevertheless Rooney Machowl declared that some telegraphic signals by means of hands and fingers had certainly been exchanged.In a short time the boat was turned sharp round by Baldwin, and run into a cove near a wall in which was a little wooden gate. A flight of dilapidated steps led to this gate.“What if your friend should not be at home?” asked Joe, in a whisper.“I’ll land the bags in any case and await him, while you return to the port with Dwarro,” replied Edgar.If the pilot was interested in their proceedings, he must have been a consummate actor, for he took no notice whatever of the sudden change of the boat’s course, but continued to smoke languidly, and to gaze abstractedly into the water as if trying to read his fortune there, while Edgar and Rooney landed the bags, and carried them through the little gate into the Scotchman’s garden. In a few minutes Edgar returned to the boat, stepped in, and pushed off, while the two Chinamen, in obedience to orders, rowed out into the river.“It’s all right,” whispered Edgar, sitting down beside Joe, “Wilson is at home, and has undertaken to have the bags carried to a place of safety long before any attempt to capture them could be organised, even if Dwarro knew our secret and were disposed to attempt such a thing. Besides, we will keep him under our eyes to-night as long as possible.”That night, highly elated at the success of their labours, our four friends sat round their evening meal in the pagoda and related their various diving adventures and experiences to the admiring and sympathetic Molly Machowl. They had previously entertained the pilot with unlimited hospitality and tobacco, and that suspected individual, so far from showing any restless anxiety to shorten his stay, had coolly enjoyed himself until they were at last glad when he rose to go away.On the following morning, too, he was ready with his boat before day-break, and the party returned to the scene of operations at the wreck in high spirits.It is certain that their enthusiasm would have been considerably damped had they known that exactly three hours after their gold was landed, a party of six stout nautical-looking Malays entered the residence of Wilson, the Scotchman, knocked down Wilson’s servants, gagged Wilson’s mouth, drank up the claret with which Wilson had been regaling himself, and carried off the bags of gold before his very eyes! Fortunately for their peace of mind and the success of their labours, our adventurers didnotknow all this, but, descending to the wreck with heavy soles and light hearts, they proceeded to recover and send up additional bags of gold.That day they were not quite so successful. Unforeseen difficulties layin their way. Some of the gold had been washed out of the treasure-room in their absence, and was not easily recovered from the sand and sea-weed. In order the better to find this, the electric-lamp was brought into requisition and found to be most effective, its light being very powerful—equal to that of fifteen thousand candles,—and so arranged as to direct the light in four directions, one of these being towards the bottom by means of a reflecting prism. It burned without air, and when at the bottom, could be lighted or extinguished from the boat by means of electricity.Still, notwithstanding its aid, they had not collected treasure beyond the value of about eight thousand pounds when the time for rest and taking their mid-day meal arrived. This amount was, however, quite sufficient to improve their appetites, and render them sanguine as to the work of the afternoon.“You’d better signal Mr Berrington to come up,” said Joe, who with all the others of the party were assembled in the stern of the boat, anxiously waiting to begin their dinner.“Sure I’ve done it twice a’ready,” replied Rooney, who was attending to our hero’s life-line while Ram-stam and Chok-foo toiled at the air-pumps.“What does he reply?” asked Joe.“He replies, ‘all right,’ but nothin’ more. If he knew the imptiness of my—och! There he goes at last, four tugs. Come along, my hearty,” said Rooney, coiling away the slack as Edgar rose slowly to the surface.Presently his helmet appeared like a huge round goblet ascending from the mighty deep. Then the surface was broken with a gurgle, and the goggle-eyes appeared. Rooney unscrewed the front-glass, and the Chinamen were free to cease their weary pumping. When Edgar was assisted into the boat, it was observed that he had a small peculiarly-shaped box under his arm. He made no reference to this until relieved of his helmet, when he took it up and examined it with much curiosity.“What have you got there, sir?” asked Joe Baldwin, coming forward.“That is just what I don’t know,” answered Edgar. “It seems to me like an iron or steel box much encrusted with rust, and I shouldn’t wonder if it contained something of value. One thing is certain, that we have not got the key, and must therefore break it open.”While he was speaking, David Maxwell gazed at the box intently. He did not speak, but there was a peculiar motion about his lips as if he were licking them. A fiend happened just then to stand at Maxwell’s ear. It whispered, “You know it.”“Ay,” said Maxwell, under his breath, in reply, “Iknows it—well.”“I wonder if there are valuables in it,” said Edgar.“Shouldn’t wonder if there wor,” said Rooney.“Eight or nine thousand pounds, more or less,” whispered the fiend, quoting words used by Mr Hazlit on a former occasion.“Ah—jis’ so,” muttered Maxwell.“Don’t you say a word more, David,” said the fiend.“I wont,” muttered Maxwell’s heart; for the hearts of men are desperately wicked.“That’s right,” continued the fiend, “for if you keep quiet, you know, the contents will fall to be divided among you, and the loss won’t be felt by a rich fellow like old Hazlit.”Maxwell’s heart approved and applauded the sentiment, but a stronger power moved in the rough man’s heart, and softly whispered, “Shame!”“Why, Maxwell,” said Edgar, smiling, “you look at the box as if it were a ghost!”“An’ so itis,” said Maxwell, with a sudden and unaccountable growl, at the sound of which the fiend sprang overboard, and, diving into the sea, disappeared from Maxwell’s view for ever!“Why, what d’ee mean, David?” asked Baldwin, in surprise.“I mean, sir,” said Maxwell, turning to Edgar with a look of unwonted honesty on his rugged face, “that that box is the ghost of one that belongs to Miss Hazlit, if it ain’t the box itself.”“To Miss Hazlit,” exclaimed Edgar, in surprise; “explain yourself.”In reply to this the diver told how he had originally become acquainted with the box and its contents, and said that he had more than once searched about the region of Miss Hazlit’s cabin while down at the wreck in hope of finding it, but without success.“Strange,” said Edgar, “I too have more than once searched in the same place in the hope of finding something, or anything that might have belonged to her, but everything had been washed away. Of course, knowing nothing about this box, I did not look forit, and found it at last, by mere chance, some distance from the berth she occupied. Why did you not mention it before?”Maxwell was silent, and at that moment the drift of thought and conversation was abruptly turned by Rooney Machowl shouting, “Dinner ahoy!” with impatient asperity.While engaged in the pleasant duty of appeasing hunger, our divers chatted on many subjects, chiefly professional. Among other things, Rooney remarked that he had heard it said a diving-dress contained sufficient air in it to keep a man alive for more than five minutes.“I have heard the same,” said Edgar.“Come, David,” suggested Joe Baldwin, “let’s test it on you.”“Ready,” said Maxwell, rising and wiping his huge mouth.The proposal which was made in jest was thereupon carried out in earnest!Dinner being over, Maxwell put on his diving-dress; the Chinamen set the pump going, and the front-glass was screwed on. Air was forced into the dress until it was completely inflated and looked as if ready to burst, while Maxwell stood on the deck holding on to a back-stay. At a given signal the pumpers ceased to work, and the adventurous man was thus cut off from all further communication with the outward air.At first the onlookers were amused; then they became interested, and as the minutes flew by, a little anxious, but Maxwell’s grave countenance, as seen through the bull’s-eye, gave no cause for alarm. Thus he stood for full ten minutes, and then opening the escape-valve, signalled for more air.This was a sufficient evidence that a man might have ample time to return to the surface from great depths, even if the air-pumps should break down.“But, perhaps,” said Edgar, as they conversed on the subject, “you might not be able to hold out so long under water where the pressure would be great.”“Sure that’s true. What d’ee say to try, David?” said Rooney.Again Maxwell expressed willingness to risk the attempt. The glass was once more screwed on, the pumps set agoing, and down the bold diver went to the bottom. On receiving a pre-arranged signal, the pumps were stopped.This, let the reader fully understand, is a thing that is never done with the ordinary pumps, which are not permitted to cease working from the time the bull’s-eye is fixed on until after it is taken off, on the diver’s return to the surface. It was therefore with much anxiety that the experimenters awaited the result—anxiety that was not allayed by Rooney Machowl’s expression of countenance, and his occasional suggestion that “he must be dead by this time,” or, “Och! He’s gone entirely now!”For full five minutes Maxwell stayed under water without a fresh supply of air—then he signalled for it, and the anxious pumpers sent it down with a will. Thus it was found that there was still sufficient time for a man to return to the surface with the air contained in his dress, in the event of accident to the pumps. (See Note 1.)While the divers were engaged with these experiments, Chok-foo was sent on shore in the small boat for a supply of fresh water from a spring near the top of the island.Having filled his keg, the Chinaman turned his fat good-humoured countenance toward the sea, for the purpose of taking an amiable view of Nature in general before commencing the descent. As he afterwards gazed in the direction of the mainland, he observed what appeared to be a line of sea-gulls on the horizon. He looked intently at these after shouldering his water-keg. Chok-foo’s visage was yellow by nature. It suddenly became pale green. He dropped his burden and bounded down the hillside as if he had gone mad. The water-keg followed him. Being small and heavy it overtook him, swept the legs from under him, and preceded him to the beach, where it was dashed to atoms. Chok-foo recovered himself, continued his wild descent, sprang into the boat, rowed out to his companions in furious haste, and breathlessly gave the information that pirates were coming!Those to whom he said this knew too well what he meant to require explanation. They were aware that many so-called “traders” in the Eastern seas become pirates on the shortest notice when it suits their convenience.Edgar Berrington immediately drew a revolver from his pocket, and stepping suddenly up to Dwarro, said sternly:—“Look here!”The pilot did look, and for the first time his calm, cool, imperturbable expression deserted him, for he saw that he had to deal with a resolute and powerful man. At the same time his right hand moved towards his breast, but it was arrested from behind in the iron grip of Joe Baldwin.“Now, pilot,” said Edgar, “submit, and no one shall harm you. Resist, and you are a dead man. Search him, Joe.”The diver opened Dwarro’s pilot-coat, and found beneath it a brace of pistols and a long sheath knife, which he quietly removed and transferred to his own person. The other men in the boat looked on, meanwhile, in silence.“Dwarro,” continued Edgar, “youhave planned this, I know, but I’ll thwart you. I won’t tie or gag you. I’ll make you sit at the helm and steer, while we evade your friends. I shall sit beside you, and you may rely on it that if you disobey an order in the slightest degree, or give a signal by word or look to any one, I’ll blow out your brains. D’you understand me?”The pilot made no reply save by a slight inclination of the head, while a dark frown settled on his features.It was obvious that fear found no place in the man’s breast, for a deep flush of indignation covered his countenance. He merely felt that he must obey or die, and wisely chose the former alternative.Meanwhile the fleet of boats which had appeared to the Chinaman on the hill-top was now seen by the party in the boat as they drew nearer under the influence of a land breeze—their high sails rendering them visible before the low boat of our divers could be seen by them.The wind had not yet reached the island, but, even if it had, the divers would not have hoisted sail, lest they should have been seen.“Ship your oars now, lads, and pull for life,” cried Edgar, seizing the tiller with one hand, while with the other he held the revolver. “You takethisoar, Dwarro, and pull with a will.”In a few seconds the pilot boat was creeping pretty swiftly along the rugged shore of the island, in the direction of the open sea. To lighten her, the little boat astern was cut adrift. Continuing their course, they rowed quite past the island, and then, turning abruptly to the southward, they pulled steadily on until the first “cat’s-paw” of the breeze ruffled the glassy sea.By this time the fleet of boats was distinctly visible, making straight for the island. Edgar now ordered the sails to be set, and bade Dwarro take the helm. The pilot obeyed with the air of a Stoic. It was clear that his mind was made up. This had the effect of calling up a look of settled resolution on Edgar’s face.In a few minutes the sails filled, and then, to the surprise not only of Dwarro but all on board, Edgar ordered the pilot to steer straight for the line of advancing boats.Two of these had changed their course on first observing the divers’ boat, but when they saw it steering straight down, as if to meet or join them, they resumed their course for the island. Presently the breeze increased, and the pilot boat leaped over the waves as if it had received new life.“It’s a bowld thing to try,” muttered Rooney Machowl, “but I’m afeard, sir—”He was silenced by a peremptory “Hush” from Edgar. “Get down so as to be out of sight,” he continued, “all of you except the Chinamen.—You two come and sit by Dwarro.”As he spoke, Edgar himself sat down on an oar, so as to be able to see over the gunwale without himself being seen. To those in the fleet it would thus appear that their vessel was a pilot boat returning from seaward with its skipper and two Chinamen. Whatever Dwarro’s intentions had been, he was evidently somewhat disconcerted, and glanced more than once uneasily at the calm youth who sat pistol in hand at his side directing him how to steer.Although there was a considerable fleet of the piratical boats, they were spread out so that a space of several hundred yards intervened between each. Edgar steered for the centre of the widest gap, and his bold venture was favoured by a sudden increase of wind, which caused the waves to gurgle from the bow.Just as they passed between two of the boats they were hailed by one of them. Edgar kept his eyes fixed on Dwarro, who became slightly pale. The click of the pistol at the moment caused the pilot to start.“You may inform and we may be caught,” said Edgar, sternly; “but whatever happens you shall die if you disobey. Speak not, but wave your hand in reply.”Dwarro obeyed. Those who had hailed him apparently thought the distance too great for speech; they waved their hands in return, and the boat passed on. A few minutes more and our divers were safely beyond the chance of capture, making for the mainland under a steady breeze.Note 1. The pump used by Denayrouze of Paris, besides being very simple in its parts and action, possesses an air-reservoir which renders a cessation of the pump-action for a few minutes of no importance.
It is pleasant to loll in the sunshine on a calm day in the stern of a boat and gaze down into unfathomable depths, as one listens to the slow, regular beating of the oars, and the water rippling against the prow—and especially pleasant is this when one in such circumstances is convalescent after a prolonged and severe illness.
So thought Edgar Berrington one lovely morning, some months after the events related in the last chapter, as he was being rowed gently over the fair bosom of the China sea. The boat—a large one with a little one towing astern—was so far from the coast that no land could be seen. A few sea-gulls sported round them, dipping their wings in the wave, or putting a plaintive question now and then to the rowers. Nothing else was visible except a rocky isle not far off that rose abruptly from the sea.
“Well, we’re nearing the spot at last,” said Edgar, heaving that prolonged sigh which usually indicates one’s waking up from a pleasant reverie. “What a glorious world this is, Baldwin! How impressively it speaks to us of its Maker!”
“Ay, whether in the calm or in the storm,” responded Joe.
“Yes; it was under a very different aspect I saw this place last,” returned Edgar. “Yonder is the cliff now coming into view, where the vessel we are in search of went down.”
“An ugly place,” remarked Joe, who was steering the boat. “Come boys, give way. The morning’s gittin’ on, an’ we must set to work as soon as ever we can. Time an’ tide, you know, etcetera.”
Rooney, Maxwell, Chok-foo, and Ram-stam, who were rowing, bent to their work with a will, but the heavy boat did not respond heartily, being weighted with a large amount of diving gear. Just then a light breeze arose, and the boat, obedient to the higher power, bent over and rippled swiftly on.
The only other individual on board was a Malay—the owner of the boat. He sat on the extreme end of the bow looking with a vacant gaze at the island. He was a man of large size and forbidding, though well-formed, features, and was clothed in a costume, half European half Oriental, which gave little clew to the nature of his profession—except that it savoured a good deal of the sea. His name, Dwarro, was, like his person, nondescript. Probably it was a corruption of his eastern cognomen. At all events it suffered further corruption from his companions in the boat, for Baldwin and Maxwell called him Dworro, while Rooney Machowl named him Dwarry. This diversity of pronunciation, however, seemed a matter of no consequence to the stolid boatman, who, when directly addressed, answered to any name that people chose to give him. He was taciturn—never spoke save when spoken to; and at such times used English so broken that it was difficult to put it together so as to make sense. He was there only in capacity of owner and guardian of the boat. Those who hired it would gladly have dispensed with his services, but he would not let them have it without taking himself into the bargain.
Having reached the scene of the wreck of theWarrior, the party at once proceeded to sound and drag for it, and soon discovered its position, for it had not shifted much after slipping off the ledge, where it had met its doom on the night of the storm. Its depth under the surface was exactly twenty-three fathoms, or 138 feet.
“It will try our metal,” observed Baldwin, “for the greatest depth that the Admiralty allow their divers to go down is twenty fathom.”
“What o’ that?” growled Maxwell, “I’ve worked myself many a time in twenty-three fathom water, an’ll do it again any day.Wedon’t need to mind what the Admiralty says. The submarine engineers of London tell us they limit a man to twenty-five fathom, an’ they ought to know what’s possible if any one should.”
“That’s true, David,” remarked Rooney, as he filled his pipe, “but I’ve heard of a man goin’ down twinty-eight fathom, an’ comin’ up alive.”
“Oh, as to that,” said Berrington, “Ihave heard of one man who descended to thirty-four fathom, at which depth he must have sustained a pressure of 88 and a half pounds on every square inch of his body—andhecame up alive, but his case is an exception. It was fool-hardy, and he could do no effective work at such a depth. However, here we are, and here we must go to work with a will, whatever the depth be. You and I, Joe, shall descend first. The others will look after us. I’ll put on a Siebe and Gorman dress. You will don one of Heinke and Davis, and we’ll take down with us one of Denayrouze’s lamps, reserving Siebe’s electric light for a future occasion.”
In pursuance of these plans the boat was moored over the place where the wreck lay, a short ladder was hung over the side of a smaller boat they had in tow with its pendent line and weight, the pumps were set up and rigged, the dresses were put on, and, in a short time our hero found himself in his old quarters down beside the great crank!
But ah! What a change was there! The grinding had ceased for ever; the great crank’s labours were over, and its surface was covered with mud, sand, barnacles, and sea-weed, and involved in a maze of twisted iron and wrecked timbers—for the ship had broken her back in slipping into deep water, and wrenched her parts asunder into a state of violent confusion. Thick darkness prevailed at that depth, but Denayrouze’s lamp rendered the darkness visible, and sufficed to enable the divers to steer clear of bristling rods and twisted iron-bands that might otherwise have torn their dresses and endangered their lives.
The work of inspection was necessarily slow as well as fraught with risk, for great difficulty was experienced while moving about, in preventing the entanglement of air-pipes and life-lines. The two men kept together, partly for company and partly to benefit mutually by the lamp. Presently they came on human bones tightly wedged between masses of timber. Turning from the sad spectacle, they descended into the cabin and made their way towards the place where Berrington knew that the treasure had been stowed. Here he found, with something like a shock of disappointment, that the stern of the vessel had been burst open, and the contents of the cabin swept out.
On further inspection, however, the treasure-room was found to be uninjured. Putting down the lamp on an adjacent beam, Edgar lifted a heavy mass of wreck from the ground, and dashed the door in. The scene that presented itself was interesting. On the floor lay a number of little barrels, which the divers knew contained the gold they were in search of. Most of these were so riddled by worms that they were falling to pieces. Some, indeed, had partially given way, so that the piles of coin could be seen through the staves, and two or three had been so completely eaten away as to have fallen off, leaving the masses of gold in unbroken piles. There were also bags as well as kegs of coin, all more or less in a state of decay.
The divers gazed at this sight for a few moments quite motionless. Then Edgar with one hand turned the lamp full on his companion’s front-glass so as to see his face, while with the other hand he pointed to the treasure. Joe’s eyes expressed surprise, and his mouth smiling satisfaction. Turning the light full on his own face to show his comrade that he was similarly impressed, Edgar motioned to Joe to sit down on an iron chest that stood in a corner, and giving the requisite signal with his life-line, went up to the surface. He did this very slowly in order to accustom his frame to the change of pressure both of air and water, for he was well aware of the danger of rapid ascent from such a depth. Soon after, he redescended, bearing several canvas sacks, some cord, and a couple of small crowbars. Placing the lamp in a convenient position, and throwing the bags on the floor of the treasure-room, Edgar and Baldwin set to work diligently with the crowbars, broke open the kegs, and emptied their golden contents into one of the bags, until it was quite full; tied up the mouth, fastened it to a rope which communicated with the boat above, and gave the signal to hoist away. The bag quickly rose and vanished.
Previous to redescending, our hero had arranged with Rooney to have pieces of sail-cloth in readiness to wrap the bags in the instant of their being got into the small boat, so that when being transferred to the large boat’s locker, their form and contents might be concealed from the pilot, Dwarro. The precaution, however, did not seem to be necessary, for Dwarro was afflicted with laziness, and devoted himself entirely to the occupations of alternately smoking, in a dreamy way, and sleeping.
For three hours the divers wrought under great excitement, as well as pressure, and then, feeling much exhausted, returned to the surface, having sent up the contents of about twenty boxes and kegs of treasure. Rooney and Maxwell then took their turn under water, and were equally successful.
That night, being very calm and clear, they ran the boat into a sheltered crevice among the cliffs, and slept on board of her. Next morning at day-break they were again at work, but were not equally fortunate, for although plenty of treasure was sent up, several accidents occurred which were severe, though, happily, not fatal.
In the first place, Baldwin tore his left hand badly while attempting to raise a heavy mass of ragged iron-plate that prevented his reaching some loose coin lying under it. This, though painful, did not render him altogether incapable of working. Then, while Edgar Berrington was passing from one part of the wreck to another, threading his way carefully, a mass of wire-ropes and other wreckage suddenly dropt from a position where it had been balanced, and felled him to the deck with such violence that for a few moments he was stunned. On recovering, he found to his horror that he was pressed down by the mass, and had got inextricably entangled with it. If his dress had been torn at that time, or his helmet damaged, it is certain that his adventures would have been finally cut short, and there can be no doubt that his preservation was largely owing to the excellence of the material of which his dress was made.
But how to escape from his wire-cage was a difficulty he could not solve, for the lamp had been extinguished, and the entanglement of his line and air-pipe rendered signalling impossible. He continued to struggle helplessly, therefore, in total darkness. That the air-tube continued all right, was evident from the fact that air came down to him as before.
In this dilemma he remained for a short time, occasionally managing to clear himself partially, and at other times becoming more and more involved.
At last Rooney Machowl, who was attending to the lines above, bethought him that he had not received any signals for some time or observed any of those motions which usually indicate that a diver is busy below. He therefore gave a pull to the lifeline. Of course no answer was received.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Rooney, with a start, for in diving operations Life and Death frequently stand elbowing each other.
He gave another and still more decided pull, but no answer was returned.
Jumping up in excitement, he attempted to haul on the line, so as to bring Edgar to the surface by force, but to his consternation he found it to be immovably fixed.
“Hooroo! Man alive,” he yelled, rather than shouted, to Maxwell, who was attending the other line, “signal for Joe to come up—look sharp!”
Maxwell obeyed with four strong quick pulls on Joe’s line, and Joe appeared at the surface rather sooner than was consistent with safety. On learning the cause of his being called, he infixed his bull’s-eye hastily; went down again with a heavy plunge, and discovering his companion, soon removed the wreck by which he was entangled, and set him free.
Experience, it is said, teaches fools; much more does it instruct wise men. After this event our hero became a little more careful in his movements below.
When a considerable amount of treasure had been recovered, it was thought advisable to return to the shore and place it in security.
“It won’t be easy to manage this,” said Edgar to Baldwin in a low tone, as they sailed away from the rocky islet, under a light breeze. “I have an uncomfortable belief that that fellow Dwarro suspects the nature of the contents of these bags, despite our efforts at concealment.”
“I don’t think he does,” whispered Baldwin. “He seems to me to be one o’ these miserable opium-smokers whose brains get too much fuddled to understand or care for anything.”
“Whist now, don’t spake so loud,” said Rooney, advancing his head closer to his companions, and glancing doubtfully at the object of their suspicion; “sure he’s got a sharp countenance, fuddled or not fuddled.”
The pilot had indeed an intelligent cast of countenance, but as he sat in a careless attitude in the bow of the boat smoking listlessly and gazing dreamily, almost stupidly, towards the shore, it did seem as though he had indulged too freely in the noxious drag which poisons so many inhabitants of these unhappy lands.
As he was out of earshot, the four adventurers drew their heads still closer together, and talked eagerly about their prospects.
“Sure our fortins is made already,” said Rooney; “how much d’ee think we’ve fished up, Mr Berrington?”
“I cannot say, but at a rough guess I should think not less than twenty thousand pounds.”
“Ye don’t main it? Och! Molly astore! Ye shall walk in silks an’ satins from this day forward—to say nothin’ of a carridge an’ four, if not six.”
“But where’ll we putt it, sir?” asked Baldwin.
“I’ve been thinking of that,” replied Edgar. “You see I don’t like the notion of running right into port with it, where this pilot has probably numerous friends who would aid him in making a dash for such a prize—supposing he has guessed what we are about. Now, I happen to have a trusty friend here, a young Scotchman, who lives in a quiet out-o’-the-way part. We’ll run up to his place, land the gold quickly, and get him to carry it off to some place of security—”
“Whist, not so loud! I do belave,” said Rooney, “that rascal is cocking his weather ear.”
“He don’t understand a word of English,” muttered Baldwin.
Dwarro looked so intensely absent and sleepy as he sat lounging in the bow, that the divers felt relieved and continued, though in more cautious tones, to discuss their plans.
Meanwhile the boat ran into the Hong-Kong river. As it proceeded, a small light boat or skiff was observed approaching. Baldwin, who steered, sheered out a little in the hope of avoiding her, but the man who sculled her conformed to the movement, and quickly shot past their bow—so closely that he could exchange salutations with the pilot. Nothing more appeared to pass between the two,—indeed there seemed no time for further communication—nevertheless Rooney Machowl declared that some telegraphic signals by means of hands and fingers had certainly been exchanged.
In a short time the boat was turned sharp round by Baldwin, and run into a cove near a wall in which was a little wooden gate. A flight of dilapidated steps led to this gate.
“What if your friend should not be at home?” asked Joe, in a whisper.
“I’ll land the bags in any case and await him, while you return to the port with Dwarro,” replied Edgar.
If the pilot was interested in their proceedings, he must have been a consummate actor, for he took no notice whatever of the sudden change of the boat’s course, but continued to smoke languidly, and to gaze abstractedly into the water as if trying to read his fortune there, while Edgar and Rooney landed the bags, and carried them through the little gate into the Scotchman’s garden. In a few minutes Edgar returned to the boat, stepped in, and pushed off, while the two Chinamen, in obedience to orders, rowed out into the river.
“It’s all right,” whispered Edgar, sitting down beside Joe, “Wilson is at home, and has undertaken to have the bags carried to a place of safety long before any attempt to capture them could be organised, even if Dwarro knew our secret and were disposed to attempt such a thing. Besides, we will keep him under our eyes to-night as long as possible.”
That night, highly elated at the success of their labours, our four friends sat round their evening meal in the pagoda and related their various diving adventures and experiences to the admiring and sympathetic Molly Machowl. They had previously entertained the pilot with unlimited hospitality and tobacco, and that suspected individual, so far from showing any restless anxiety to shorten his stay, had coolly enjoyed himself until they were at last glad when he rose to go away.
On the following morning, too, he was ready with his boat before day-break, and the party returned to the scene of operations at the wreck in high spirits.
It is certain that their enthusiasm would have been considerably damped had they known that exactly three hours after their gold was landed, a party of six stout nautical-looking Malays entered the residence of Wilson, the Scotchman, knocked down Wilson’s servants, gagged Wilson’s mouth, drank up the claret with which Wilson had been regaling himself, and carried off the bags of gold before his very eyes! Fortunately for their peace of mind and the success of their labours, our adventurers didnotknow all this, but, descending to the wreck with heavy soles and light hearts, they proceeded to recover and send up additional bags of gold.
That day they were not quite so successful. Unforeseen difficulties layin their way. Some of the gold had been washed out of the treasure-room in their absence, and was not easily recovered from the sand and sea-weed. In order the better to find this, the electric-lamp was brought into requisition and found to be most effective, its light being very powerful—equal to that of fifteen thousand candles,—and so arranged as to direct the light in four directions, one of these being towards the bottom by means of a reflecting prism. It burned without air, and when at the bottom, could be lighted or extinguished from the boat by means of electricity.
Still, notwithstanding its aid, they had not collected treasure beyond the value of about eight thousand pounds when the time for rest and taking their mid-day meal arrived. This amount was, however, quite sufficient to improve their appetites, and render them sanguine as to the work of the afternoon.
“You’d better signal Mr Berrington to come up,” said Joe, who with all the others of the party were assembled in the stern of the boat, anxiously waiting to begin their dinner.
“Sure I’ve done it twice a’ready,” replied Rooney, who was attending to our hero’s life-line while Ram-stam and Chok-foo toiled at the air-pumps.
“What does he reply?” asked Joe.
“He replies, ‘all right,’ but nothin’ more. If he knew the imptiness of my—och! There he goes at last, four tugs. Come along, my hearty,” said Rooney, coiling away the slack as Edgar rose slowly to the surface.
Presently his helmet appeared like a huge round goblet ascending from the mighty deep. Then the surface was broken with a gurgle, and the goggle-eyes appeared. Rooney unscrewed the front-glass, and the Chinamen were free to cease their weary pumping. When Edgar was assisted into the boat, it was observed that he had a small peculiarly-shaped box under his arm. He made no reference to this until relieved of his helmet, when he took it up and examined it with much curiosity.
“What have you got there, sir?” asked Joe Baldwin, coming forward.
“That is just what I don’t know,” answered Edgar. “It seems to me like an iron or steel box much encrusted with rust, and I shouldn’t wonder if it contained something of value. One thing is certain, that we have not got the key, and must therefore break it open.”
While he was speaking, David Maxwell gazed at the box intently. He did not speak, but there was a peculiar motion about his lips as if he were licking them. A fiend happened just then to stand at Maxwell’s ear. It whispered, “You know it.”
“Ay,” said Maxwell, under his breath, in reply, “Iknows it—well.”
“I wonder if there are valuables in it,” said Edgar.
“Shouldn’t wonder if there wor,” said Rooney.
“Eight or nine thousand pounds, more or less,” whispered the fiend, quoting words used by Mr Hazlit on a former occasion.
“Ah—jis’ so,” muttered Maxwell.
“Don’t you say a word more, David,” said the fiend.
“I wont,” muttered Maxwell’s heart; for the hearts of men are desperately wicked.
“That’s right,” continued the fiend, “for if you keep quiet, you know, the contents will fall to be divided among you, and the loss won’t be felt by a rich fellow like old Hazlit.”
Maxwell’s heart approved and applauded the sentiment, but a stronger power moved in the rough man’s heart, and softly whispered, “Shame!”
“Why, Maxwell,” said Edgar, smiling, “you look at the box as if it were a ghost!”
“An’ so itis,” said Maxwell, with a sudden and unaccountable growl, at the sound of which the fiend sprang overboard, and, diving into the sea, disappeared from Maxwell’s view for ever!
“Why, what d’ee mean, David?” asked Baldwin, in surprise.
“I mean, sir,” said Maxwell, turning to Edgar with a look of unwonted honesty on his rugged face, “that that box is the ghost of one that belongs to Miss Hazlit, if it ain’t the box itself.”
“To Miss Hazlit,” exclaimed Edgar, in surprise; “explain yourself.”
In reply to this the diver told how he had originally become acquainted with the box and its contents, and said that he had more than once searched about the region of Miss Hazlit’s cabin while down at the wreck in hope of finding it, but without success.
“Strange,” said Edgar, “I too have more than once searched in the same place in the hope of finding something, or anything that might have belonged to her, but everything had been washed away. Of course, knowing nothing about this box, I did not look forit, and found it at last, by mere chance, some distance from the berth she occupied. Why did you not mention it before?”
Maxwell was silent, and at that moment the drift of thought and conversation was abruptly turned by Rooney Machowl shouting, “Dinner ahoy!” with impatient asperity.
While engaged in the pleasant duty of appeasing hunger, our divers chatted on many subjects, chiefly professional. Among other things, Rooney remarked that he had heard it said a diving-dress contained sufficient air in it to keep a man alive for more than five minutes.
“I have heard the same,” said Edgar.
“Come, David,” suggested Joe Baldwin, “let’s test it on you.”
“Ready,” said Maxwell, rising and wiping his huge mouth.
The proposal which was made in jest was thereupon carried out in earnest!
Dinner being over, Maxwell put on his diving-dress; the Chinamen set the pump going, and the front-glass was screwed on. Air was forced into the dress until it was completely inflated and looked as if ready to burst, while Maxwell stood on the deck holding on to a back-stay. At a given signal the pumpers ceased to work, and the adventurous man was thus cut off from all further communication with the outward air.
At first the onlookers were amused; then they became interested, and as the minutes flew by, a little anxious, but Maxwell’s grave countenance, as seen through the bull’s-eye, gave no cause for alarm. Thus he stood for full ten minutes, and then opening the escape-valve, signalled for more air.
This was a sufficient evidence that a man might have ample time to return to the surface from great depths, even if the air-pumps should break down.
“But, perhaps,” said Edgar, as they conversed on the subject, “you might not be able to hold out so long under water where the pressure would be great.”
“Sure that’s true. What d’ee say to try, David?” said Rooney.
Again Maxwell expressed willingness to risk the attempt. The glass was once more screwed on, the pumps set agoing, and down the bold diver went to the bottom. On receiving a pre-arranged signal, the pumps were stopped.
This, let the reader fully understand, is a thing that is never done with the ordinary pumps, which are not permitted to cease working from the time the bull’s-eye is fixed on until after it is taken off, on the diver’s return to the surface. It was therefore with much anxiety that the experimenters awaited the result—anxiety that was not allayed by Rooney Machowl’s expression of countenance, and his occasional suggestion that “he must be dead by this time,” or, “Och! He’s gone entirely now!”
For full five minutes Maxwell stayed under water without a fresh supply of air—then he signalled for it, and the anxious pumpers sent it down with a will. Thus it was found that there was still sufficient time for a man to return to the surface with the air contained in his dress, in the event of accident to the pumps. (See Note 1.)
While the divers were engaged with these experiments, Chok-foo was sent on shore in the small boat for a supply of fresh water from a spring near the top of the island.
Having filled his keg, the Chinaman turned his fat good-humoured countenance toward the sea, for the purpose of taking an amiable view of Nature in general before commencing the descent. As he afterwards gazed in the direction of the mainland, he observed what appeared to be a line of sea-gulls on the horizon. He looked intently at these after shouldering his water-keg. Chok-foo’s visage was yellow by nature. It suddenly became pale green. He dropped his burden and bounded down the hillside as if he had gone mad. The water-keg followed him. Being small and heavy it overtook him, swept the legs from under him, and preceded him to the beach, where it was dashed to atoms. Chok-foo recovered himself, continued his wild descent, sprang into the boat, rowed out to his companions in furious haste, and breathlessly gave the information that pirates were coming!
Those to whom he said this knew too well what he meant to require explanation. They were aware that many so-called “traders” in the Eastern seas become pirates on the shortest notice when it suits their convenience.
Edgar Berrington immediately drew a revolver from his pocket, and stepping suddenly up to Dwarro, said sternly:—
“Look here!”
The pilot did look, and for the first time his calm, cool, imperturbable expression deserted him, for he saw that he had to deal with a resolute and powerful man. At the same time his right hand moved towards his breast, but it was arrested from behind in the iron grip of Joe Baldwin.
“Now, pilot,” said Edgar, “submit, and no one shall harm you. Resist, and you are a dead man. Search him, Joe.”
The diver opened Dwarro’s pilot-coat, and found beneath it a brace of pistols and a long sheath knife, which he quietly removed and transferred to his own person. The other men in the boat looked on, meanwhile, in silence.
“Dwarro,” continued Edgar, “youhave planned this, I know, but I’ll thwart you. I won’t tie or gag you. I’ll make you sit at the helm and steer, while we evade your friends. I shall sit beside you, and you may rely on it that if you disobey an order in the slightest degree, or give a signal by word or look to any one, I’ll blow out your brains. D’you understand me?”
The pilot made no reply save by a slight inclination of the head, while a dark frown settled on his features.
It was obvious that fear found no place in the man’s breast, for a deep flush of indignation covered his countenance. He merely felt that he must obey or die, and wisely chose the former alternative.
Meanwhile the fleet of boats which had appeared to the Chinaman on the hill-top was now seen by the party in the boat as they drew nearer under the influence of a land breeze—their high sails rendering them visible before the low boat of our divers could be seen by them.
The wind had not yet reached the island, but, even if it had, the divers would not have hoisted sail, lest they should have been seen.
“Ship your oars now, lads, and pull for life,” cried Edgar, seizing the tiller with one hand, while with the other he held the revolver. “You takethisoar, Dwarro, and pull with a will.”
In a few seconds the pilot boat was creeping pretty swiftly along the rugged shore of the island, in the direction of the open sea. To lighten her, the little boat astern was cut adrift. Continuing their course, they rowed quite past the island, and then, turning abruptly to the southward, they pulled steadily on until the first “cat’s-paw” of the breeze ruffled the glassy sea.
By this time the fleet of boats was distinctly visible, making straight for the island. Edgar now ordered the sails to be set, and bade Dwarro take the helm. The pilot obeyed with the air of a Stoic. It was clear that his mind was made up. This had the effect of calling up a look of settled resolution on Edgar’s face.
In a few minutes the sails filled, and then, to the surprise not only of Dwarro but all on board, Edgar ordered the pilot to steer straight for the line of advancing boats.
Two of these had changed their course on first observing the divers’ boat, but when they saw it steering straight down, as if to meet or join them, they resumed their course for the island. Presently the breeze increased, and the pilot boat leaped over the waves as if it had received new life.
“It’s a bowld thing to try,” muttered Rooney Machowl, “but I’m afeard, sir—”
He was silenced by a peremptory “Hush” from Edgar. “Get down so as to be out of sight,” he continued, “all of you except the Chinamen.—You two come and sit by Dwarro.”
As he spoke, Edgar himself sat down on an oar, so as to be able to see over the gunwale without himself being seen. To those in the fleet it would thus appear that their vessel was a pilot boat returning from seaward with its skipper and two Chinamen. Whatever Dwarro’s intentions had been, he was evidently somewhat disconcerted, and glanced more than once uneasily at the calm youth who sat pistol in hand at his side directing him how to steer.
Although there was a considerable fleet of the piratical boats, they were spread out so that a space of several hundred yards intervened between each. Edgar steered for the centre of the widest gap, and his bold venture was favoured by a sudden increase of wind, which caused the waves to gurgle from the bow.
Just as they passed between two of the boats they were hailed by one of them. Edgar kept his eyes fixed on Dwarro, who became slightly pale. The click of the pistol at the moment caused the pilot to start.
“You may inform and we may be caught,” said Edgar, sternly; “but whatever happens you shall die if you disobey. Speak not, but wave your hand in reply.”
Dwarro obeyed. Those who had hailed him apparently thought the distance too great for speech; they waved their hands in return, and the boat passed on. A few minutes more and our divers were safely beyond the chance of capture, making for the mainland under a steady breeze.
Note 1. The pump used by Denayrouze of Paris, besides being very simple in its parts and action, possesses an air-reservoir which renders a cessation of the pump-action for a few minutes of no importance.