Story 1--Chapter XXIII.
A Crafty Foe.
It was with a feeling of intense agony that Hester Pugh watched her husband as he stepped on to the ladder and gradually descended below the surface of the water, and then with beating heart she altered her position, going beyond the others and leaning over the bulwark, so that she could peer down into the clear water and follow his every motion.
It would have been painful enough if they had parted lovingly, but, with the knowledge that his doubts had been strengthened by her refusal to explain, her position was doubly painful. In bygone days, before their marriage, Dutch had been one of the most successful and daring of divers, more from choice than necessity; but of late he had devoted himself to drawing and making plans at her desire, though his old love of submarine adventure was strong within him still; and now it almost seemed as if his resumption of his old pursuit had been caused by hatred of her.
For the time being all thought of the hidden peril to which those on board were exposed was swallowed up in the present danger, and, not noticing who was her nearest neighbour, she watched the progress of her husband with the great drops of anguish starting to her forehead. Every movement he made was plainly to be seen by all on board, and when Mr Meldon first raised the cry of “Shark!” so intense was the interest in the proceedings that no one paid the slightest heed to her. Thus it was that, in a state that made her ask herself sometimes whether this was not some wild dream, she saw the bustle on deck accompanying Mr Parkley’s efforts to drive off the unwelcome visitors, of which there were two. A cartridge was thrown, and exploded close to one of them, with the result that it seemed to sink to the bottom, for they saw it no more, while, when the other was seen to be making straight for the diver, the cry arose that he should be drawn up, and under Rasp’s direction the men were starting the life-line with a run, when—
“Hold hard!” cried Rasp, “he’s a signalling ‘All right.’”
“But it is madness,” cried Mr Parkley and the captain in a breath.
“He’s a signalling ‘All right,’” cried Rasp sternly. “You should never touch a diver when he does that. See there.”
Rasp quickly pulled the line, so as to tighten it, when the impatient jerk at the signal-cord came again.
“Can you see exactly what is going on, Mr Meldon?” said the captain.
“Yes, quite plainly,” was the reply, “he has his knife out, and is going to fight the shark.”
Hester had already seen this, and had shrunk aside, covering her eyes with her hands, fearing to listen to the conversation that ensued as Mr Meldon described in vivid words what we already know. She heard, too, the various impatient suggestions that Dutch should be drawn up, and in an agony of supplication she prayed that this might take place, but always, till she felt that she hated him with an intensity of dislike, she heard Rasp’s harsh voice dominating the others as, with the sense of responsibility that he had a diver’s life in his hands, he absolutely refused. He was lord of the proceedings, having been invested by Dutch with his duties, and he maintained his position after nearly yielding two or three times and tightening the life-line.
“There, you may say what you like,” he growled, “I know my dooty, and I’m a-doing on it. You should never meddle with a man as is down till he asks for help—go on with that pumping, my lads, keep it up,” he said, interrupting his didactic remarks to admonish the sailors at the air-pump—“’cause if you do, you means well p’raps, but you only flurries the man, and that’s the very thing as you oughtn’t to do. Do you know what would make the best divers, Oakum?”
“No,” growled that worthy.
“Cowcumbers, ’cause they’re so cool. Now, lookye here everybody, he’s going on as right as can be. Mr Dutch keeps on giving the signal ‘All right,’ so why should we interfere. I’m master o’ this descent, and he shan’t be interfered with.”
“But, you madman, there’s a huge shark just going to dash at him,” cried Mr Meldon excitedly.
“Then I’m very sorry for the shark,” said Rasp coolly. “Lor’ bless you, Mr Dutch is too much for any shark as can swim. Madman, eh, Mr Doctor. What would you say to me if I called you a madman for not letting me interfere when you’d got your patient a-going on all right, and just because I thought he was in danger? My patient’s a-going on all right. There, he says so himself,” he continued, as the customary signal passed along the line.
“Rasp is quite right,” said Mr Parkley, who stood there with a cartridge in one hand, the wire in the other, and the battery between his feet. “A diver should never be interfered with.”
“There, hear that?” said Rasp, watching the tube where it descended into the water.
“But look! Good heavens, it is horrible!” cried the doctor.
Hester’s hands dropped from her face, and she gazed down now to see a thick cloud of blood rising through the water, shutting out the figure of him she loved, and white as ashes, with eyes starting, and parted lips, but without uttering a word, she gazed on.
“Well, what o’ that?” said Rasp coolly, as he held the signal-line delicately in his hand, drawing in and slackening out like a man feeling with a ground line. “He’s as right as a trivet, and I’ve felt him all along with the line here, and he’s give the shark such a one-er. I felt him let go at it.”
“I’m afraid it is his own blood,” exclaimed Mr Wilson.
“For heaven’s sake be silent, Wilson!” cried Mr Parkley. “There, you’ve made Miss Studwick faint.”
In fact Bessy, standing by her brother’s side as he watched the whole of the proceedings, had sunk down softly on the deck; but when the doctor turned to her help, John Studwick angrily repelled him.
“It was your horrible talk began it, and that long fool’s finished the work,” exclaimed John Studwick. “Now, go back and see the shark killed. I can attend to my sister. Send for some cold water, father,” he added, as the captain came up.
But it was needless, for Bessy was recovering fast, and after looking wildly about for a few moments she sat up by her brother, and held his hand with her back turned to the group on deck.
“Bah!” ejaculated Rasp, coolly. “There, keep clear o’ that chube,” he shouted. “It’s shark’s blood, that’s what it is, and you’ll see him turn up by-and-by. Here he comes; no he ain’t turned up yet. Now he’s going down again. There,” he cried directly after, as the line glided softly through his hand. “Mr Dutch has given him another. Look at the cloud rising again, and—ha, ha, ha! What did I tell you?”
As he spoke Hester saw the form of the shark rising slowly through the ruddy cloud till its white belly gleamed in the sunshine, and Rasp pointed out with delight the two great gashes through which its life blood was passing out, while the monster made a few ineffectual struggles to recover itself, and then floated slowly to leeward.
“There ain’t many about here just now,” said Rasp, “or else that blood would have brought ’em round. Ha! there won’t be much of him left by to-morrow morning. Serve him right for interfering with divers.”
Hester’s eyes closed again for a few moments as her heart went up in grateful thanksgiving. Then she was watching the gradually clearing water till she could see her husband once again, and as she saw him moving it was with a feeling of hope that he would come up now.
But as we know he passed right under the schooner, and there were more spectators crossed over to the other side to watch his efforts, while she, faint and exhausted with her emotions, sat down on a coil of rope, gazing at the tube that passed close by her, Rasp having set a goodly length free as soon as he found that Dutch was on the move, and she had seen this long snake-like pipe creep out well over the side as the diver went farther and farther away, knowing that it was the bond which held him to life, and feeling with a kind of fascination that she could not explain that it was now her duty to watch the tube and see that it was not touched.
As she felt this, she raised her eyes for a moment, to see that Rasp was standing with his back to her and that she was alone, for all were now intent upon the diver’s actions, and commenting upon his work.
“He’s found out the place,” said one. “He’s got something—no he hasn’t,” and so on.
Just then Hester Pugh became aware of some one standing close by her, and turning her eyes it was to find that Lauré had crossed unnoticed to her side, where he stood as if looking over the bulwarks for sharks, but really all the time with his eyes fixed upon and fascinating hers, while to her horror she saw that one of his bare feet kept touching the tube.
“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity,” he said at last in a low whisper. “You tried to betray me this morning.”
“No, no,” she moaned, as the wretch placed his foot upon the tube, smiling at her the while.
“You will betray me in spite of my warning,” he continued in the same low tone; “and for this, because I will not have my plans spoiled, and partly because I hate Dutch Pugh and love you, my child, I am going to press my foot down upon this tube. Hark! dare to raise your voice in the least,” he whispered fiercely, as he saw her white lips part, “and it is his instant death. Do you understand? If I stop the flow of air for only a few seconds, he will be so startled that he will not recover himself, while if I double the time it will make assurance doubly sure, as you English people say. Swear now to me, by all that is holy, by all your future hopes, that you will not betray me.”
“Heaven give me strength, I cannot,” panted Hester.
“My foot is pressing the tube,” he hissed. “But there I know, sweet love, that you wish him dead, that there may be no hindrance to our passion.”
“Monster!” she cried.
“Hush!” he whispered. “Will you swear?”
“Yes, yes,” she panted.
“That you will neither by word nor deed betray me.”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I swear.”
“Thanks, dear one,” he whispered. “It is but for a few days. Mind, they have found one of my treasure stores; they shall work for me—for us—in ignorance, and bring it all to the surface. For us, Hester. You need not turn away; I read your heart, and that you will love me as I love you soon, and you shall revel in wealth like an Eastern princess. But now you must swear more; I cannot wait. I will not have those loathing looks and angry eyes directed at me. You shall swear that you will be mine when and where I ask it of you, or—”
“Are you some fiend?” exclaimed Hester with a look of horror as she saw his foot pressing the tube.
“No,” he whispered passionately, “only a man whom you have driven nearly mad with your beauty, and who can and will suffer no more. Have you not always been cold and rejected me, even in spite of my prayers? Now I am driven to extremities. Swear that you will be mine, or Dutch Pugh dies beneath your feet.”
“I cannot—will not,” she faltered, with her senses reeling.
“Cannot! Will not! You must and shall. You know that I have but to keep my foot firmly pressed down for a few moments, and he becomes senseless. And what then? Who in the confusion will know that it was I? Swear it to me, girl, this moment. Hester, I implore, as well as command. Have I not told you my love? Listen to me. Have I not followed you here—done everything for your sake?”
“I will not swear,” exclaimed Hester in low, panting tones, and then she uttered a faint cry, which was checked on the instant, as with a look of passionate rage that he could not control she saw Lauré flatten the tube, and knew that it was to her husband’s death.
“Will you swear now?” he whispered. “He is dying. Will you not save him?”
“I cannot, I cannot,” she panted. “Oh, it is too horrible. Dutch, my love, it is for your sake. I swear.”
“That you are mine?”
“Yes, yes,” she whispered; and she swooned away, while Lauré removed his foot from the tube.