The Secret of the Reef Part 4

"You want to keep fresh," Moran warned him. "If she's there, she'll show up before long."

They waited, Jimmy quietly glancing at his watch now and then; and at last Moran stretched out a pointing hand.

"What's that, to starboard?" he asked.

For a few moments, during which the tension set their nerves on edge, the others saw nothing; and then a faint ripple broke the gla.s.sy surface of the swell. It smoothed out and the long heave swung undisturbed across the spot for a time; but the ripple appeared again, with a dark streak in the midst of it.

"Weed!" cried Bethune. "It must grow on something!"

"I guess so," said Moran. "It's fast to a s.h.i.+p's timber."

Five minutes later the head of the timber was visible, and in keen but silent excitement they took out a line to it and hove the sloop close up. The diving pumps were already rigged, and when they had lowered and lashed a ladder, Moran coolly put on the heavy canvas dress. He said that, as the show was his, he would go down first. It was with grave misgivings that his companions screwed on the copper helmet and hung the lead weights about him, for neither of them knew anything about the work except what they had learned from a pamphlet issued by a maker of diving apparatus. This they had diligently studied and argued over on the voyage up, but there was the unpleasant possibility that it might not contain all the information needful, and a small oversight might have disastrous consequences.

When the copper helmet sank below the surface and a train of bubbles rushed up, Jimmy felt his heart beat and his hand grow damp with perspiration. He held the signal line and knew the code, as well as the number of strokes to the minute that should give air enough; but he had not much confidence in the pumps. Though he had had to pay a heavy deposit on them, and their hire was costly, they were far from new. The bubbles moved, however, drawing nearer the weed-crusted wood.

Suddenly the line jerked, and Bethune looked at Jimmy sharply.

"More air!" he cried. "Give her a few more revolutions-he's all right so far."

It was a relief to both when the bubbles moved back toward the ladder, and when the diver crawled on board they eagerly unscrewed the helmet.

Moran gasped once or twice and wiped his face before he turned to them.

"It's not too bad after the first minute or two," he said, and this was the only allusion he made to his sensations. "Now, so far as I can make out, there's no getting into her from the deck. p.o.o.p's badly smashed, and you'd certainly foul the pipe or line among the broken beams; but it looks pretty clear in the hold. Guess we'll have to break through the after bulkhead; but it's sanded up and there's a pile of stuff to move.

You're sure about the strong-room, Bethune?"

"I took some trouble to find out, and was told it was under the p.o.o.p cabin. I couldn't get a plan of her."

"We'll try the bulkhead." Moran turned to Jimmy. "If you're going next, take the shovel and see if you can s.h.i.+ft some of the sand."

Jimmy was not a timid man, but he felt far from happy as his comrades encased him in the dress and helmet. He found them an intolerable weight as he moved toward the ladder and went down it, clinging tightly to the rungs, and then, as a green mist crept across the gla.s.ses, he was conscious of an unnerving fear. Struggling with it, he descended, and was next troubled by a pain in his head and an unpleasant feeling of pressure. Something throbbed in his ears, his breathing did not seem normal, and he stopped, irresolute, at the foot of the ladder. He could see a short distance, but it was like looking through dirty, greenish gla.s.s, and the wavering light had puzzling reflections in it. He watched the air globules rush to the surface and the shadow of the sloop's bottom move to and fro; and then he fixed his eyes on a badly defined dark object which he supposed was the wreck.

As he reluctantly let go the ladder he was surprised by another change.

Instead of carrying a crus.h.i.+ng weight, he felt absurdly light and, in spite of his weighted boots, it was difficult to keep his balance. His feet did not fall where he intended, and when he moved the shovel he carried, the motion of his arm was not perfectly controllable. It seemed to him that if the stream were strong, he must hopelessly float away; but he resolutely pulled himself together. He had not spent all his money and made a daring voyage to be daunted by a few unusual sensations. It was his business to break into the wreck; and he made his way cautiously toward her. Stopping at the place where her after-half had broken off, he saw in front of him a dark cavern, edged with ragged planking and parted timbers and garlanded with long streamers of weed.

They uncoiled and wavered as the sea washed in and out, and Jimmy felt a strong reluctance to enter. The darkness might hide strange and dangerous creatures; for a few moments he allowed his imagination to run riot like that of a frightened child.

This, however, must be stopped. Jimmy remembered that he was supplied with an electric lamp. He fumbled clumsily with the switch, and, as a wavering beam of light ran through the water, he cautiously entered the hold. Sand had filled up the hollows among the stone ballast, and there was only a broken orlop beam in his way. He began to feel easier, reflecting that he was, after all, only a short distance beneath the surface; though he would have preferred more experienced a.s.sistants at the pumps. Making his way aft beside the shaft tunnel, he presently reached a bank of sand which ran up to the splintered deck. The bulkhead shutting off the lazaret was obviously behind it, and Jimmy began to use the shovel.

It proved difficult work. A vigorous movement upset his unstable equilibrium, and he wondered whether the weight he carried and the pressure applied were adapted to the depth. This could be ascertained only by experiment; and Jimmy feared to make it. Gripping himself, however, he removed a few shovelfuls of sand; and then the pain in his head got worse, and, driving in the shovel deeper than before, he fell forward with the effort. Instead of coming to the ground, he made some ridiculous gyrations before he recovered his footing; and then the signal line, which he felt at to rea.s.sure himself, seemed tauter than it should be.

Grabbing up the shovel, Jimmy commenced his retreat. The line might be foul of something, and if so there was a danger of the air pipe's entanglement. It was disconcerting to contemplate the result of that.

When he left the hull he felt a strong inclination to kick off his leaded shoes and try to swim to the surface instead of slowly mounting the ladder; but he conquered it and climbed up.

When at last the gla.s.ses were unscrewed and the air flowed in on his face, Jimmy was conscious of intense relief. For a minute he sat limply on the cabin top.

"I dare say we'll get accustomed to the thing," he said slowly to Bethune; "but you'll find out that one mustn't expect to do much at first."

Bethune went down, and when he came up Moran asked him dryly:

"How much of that sand did you s.h.i.+ft?"

"Three good bucketfuls, which I imagine is more than Jimmy did," Bethune answered with a grin. Then his face grew serious. "As there seems to be forty or fifty tons of it, we'll have to do better."

"That," agreed Moran, "is a sure thing."

They were silent after this, and Jimmy lighted his pipe. Though the day was chilly, it was pleasant to lie on the open deck and breathe air at normal pressure. The stream was not strong, the sea was as smooth as he thought it likely to be, and all the conditions were favorable to the work; but he shrank from going down again, and he imagined that his companions shared his unwillingness. Though he censured himself for feeling so, he was glad when the mist, which had grown thinner, suddenly streamed away and revealed a dark line advancing toward them across the heaving water.

"A breeze!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps we'd better get back while we can.

There won't be much water up the channel at lowest ebb."

Bethune nodded agreement as a puff of cold air struck his face, and while they shortened in the cable small white ripples splashed against the bows. These grew larger and angrier as they ran the mainsail up; and, getting the anchor, they bore away for the bight with the swell crisping and frothing astern. Before they ran in behind the sheltering sands it was blowing hard, and they spent the rest of the day lounging on the cabin lockers, while the sloop strained at her cable and the halyards beat upon the mast.

CHAPTER V-AN INTERRUPTION

For three days a bitter gale raged about the island, blowing clouds of sand and fine s.h.i.+ngle along the beach and piling the big Pacific combers upon the shoals. The air was filled with the saltness of the spray, and even below deck the men's ears rang with the clamor of the sea. Then the wind fell, and when the swell went down they set to work again and found their task grow less troublesome. They learned the pressure best suited to the very moderate depth, their lungs got accustomed to the extra labor, and none of them now hesitated about entering the gloomy hold.

Though they were interrupted now and then by the rising sea, they steadily removed the sand. Their greatest difficulty was the shortness of the time one could remain below. There was no sign of the bulkhead yet, and a gale from the eastward might wash back the sediment they had laboriously dug out. If this happened, they must try to break an opening through the side of the hull; and none of them was anxious to do that, because the timbers of a wooden s.h.i.+p are closely s.p.a.ced and thick.

For a while nothing but the weather disturbed them; and then, one calm day when trails of mist moved slowly across the water, Jimmy saw a streak of smoke on a patch of clear horizon.

"Somebody farther to the east than he ought to be," he said, leaning on the pump-crank; and then he fixed his eyes on the spot where the bubbles broke the surface. Though he had grown used to the work, the bubbles had still a curious fascination. It was difficult to turn his glance from them as they traced a milky line across the green water or stopped and widened into a frothy patch. So long as they did either, all was well with the man below.

An hour later, when the mist closed in again, Jimmy lay smoking on the deck. He had gone down and stayed longer than usual, and he felt tired and somewhat moody. Of late he had been troubled by a bad headache, which he supposed was the result of diving, and during the last few days he had found the sand unusually hard. The lower layers had been consolidated into a cement-like ma.s.s by the action of wave and tide.

Moreover, the work was arduous even when they were not down at the wreck. It was no light task to tow the sloop out against the swell in the calms; and when the sea rose suddenly, as it often did, they were forced, if the tide was low, to thrash her out for an offing and face the gale until there was water enough to take them up the channel.

Indeed, at times they dare not attempt the entrance, and lay to under storm canvas to wait for better weather. Then they sat at the wheel in turn while the hard-pressed craft labored among the frothing combers, and afterward lay, wedged into place with wet sails and gear, on the cabin lockers, while the erratic motion rendered sleep or any occupation impossible. The _Cetacea_ was small enough to drift to leeward fast, and it sometimes took them hours to drive her back to the island against the still heavy sea when the wind began to lighten. It was a wearing life, and Jimmy felt his nerves getting raw.

Bethune had gone below and Jimmy was turning the crank of the pump when a dull, throbbing sound came out of the mist. Moran looked up sharply.

"That blame steamboat is coming here!" he cried, diving into the cabin to get their gla.s.ses.

The measured thud of engines was plainly distinguishable with the roar of water flung off the bows. Jimmy supposed the clank of the pump had prevented their hearing it before.

"She's pretty close! Keep turning, but bring him up; you have the line!"

Moran exclaimed.

Bethune answered the signal; but as the bubbles drew near the sloop, the steamer appeared in an opening in the mist. Her white hull and small, cream funnel proclaimed her an auxiliary yacht.

"There's wind enough to move us, and we have to light out of this as quick as we can," Moran said, signaling again to Bethune.

When the copper helmet came into sight, they dragged Bethune on deck and then set to work to shorten cable. The yacht was now plainly visible about a mile off, and seemed to be moving slowly, which suggested that soundings were being taken preparatory to anchoring; but the sloop would not readily be seen against the land. There was, however, a quant.i.ty of heavy chain to get in before they hoisted sail, and Jimmy in haste slipped the breast rope that held them to the wreck. For convenience in picking it up, they had attached its outer end to a big keg buoy.

Getting under way, they headed for the bight, and presently saw a white gig following them.

"They won't stay long," said Bethune. "Want fresh water, or, perhaps, a walk ash.o.r.e; but it's a pity we have no time to land and hide the pumps.

The best thing we can do is to meet the party at the water's edge. It's lucky the big net is lying there."

Pulling ash.o.r.e in the dory, they waited for the yacht's boat, which carried two uniformed seamen and a young man smartly dressed in blue serge with bronze b.u.t.tons, and pipeclayed shoes. He had a good-humored look, and greeted them affably, glancing at the net.