Story 1--Chapter XXIV.
Rasp’s Adventure.
“Quick, my lads, with a will,” shouted Rasp. “Haul! Run him up.”
For the old diver had suddenly awakened to the fact that something was wrong below, and at his command the men holding the life-line ran forward along the deck, drawing Dutch rapidly to the surface, where half-a-dozen willing hands, the Cuban’s among them, seized him and laid him on the deck, where Rasp rapidly unscrewed the helmet and exposed the young man’s face, blue and distorted with strangulation.
“Quick! some more of these things off,” exclaimed Mr Meldon.
“You let him alone,” growled Rasp. “I’ll bring him to in a jiffy;” and, rudely elbowing the doctor aside, he seized Dutch’s arms, pumped them up and down a few times, and then forcibly pressing on his breast produced a kind of artificial respiration, for at the end of a minute Dutch sighed, and then rapidly began to recover.
As he commenced breathing more regularly, those surrounding became aware that Hester was trying to get to his side, for, unnoticed in the excitement, she had recovered her senses, and then, pale and sick at heart, crept to the group, where she dreaded to look upon the form of him she loved lying dead.
A look of joy, succeeded by one of intense despair, crossed her face as she knelt down by Dutch’s head, waiting to see his eyes open and to hear his words, as she shudderingly recalled the promise she had made to save his life.
She was so behind him that he did not see her, when at last he opened his eyes, and gazed wildly about him as if not comprehending where he was, and directly after he placed his hands to his face as if to feel the helmet.
His eyes opened more widely then, and Rasp held the cup of a brandy flask to his lips.
“Take a sup o’ this here, Mr Pug,” he said in his rough way.
Dutch obeyed without a word, and his face began to resume its natural aspect.
“That was a near touch, Mr Dutch, sir,” growled the old fellow. “You would stop down too long.”
“Too long?” said Dutch faintly, as he tried to sit up.
“No, no, be still for a few minutes,” said the doctor, who had been pushing up the india-rubber bands of his sleeve, and feeling the sufferer’s pulse, to Rasp’s great disgust.
“Who said I stopped down too long?” said Dutch faintly, as Hester crouched at his head, with her hands to her face.
“I did,” growled Rasp. “You shouldn’t have overdone it the first time.”
“I did not stay down too long,” said Dutch angrily, but in rather a feeble way. “The supply of air was stepped.”
“What!” cried Rasp, fiercely.
“I say the wind was stopped.”
“Hark at him,” cried Rasp, looking round from one to the other. “Hark at that, Mister Parkley, and you, too, captain. Why, I sooperintended it all myself, and the supply never stopped for a moment.”
Hester shuddered.
“Here he goes and overdoes it, gets fightin’ sharks, and stopping down about twiced as long as he should the first time, and then says the pumping was checked.”
“You must have got the tube kinked,” said Dutch, sitting up. “Take off these weights.”
“You must, you mean,” said Rasp, unhooking the leaden pads from breast and back; and while he was so engaged Hester looked wildly round in a desperate resolve to tell all, but her eyes dropped directly as she shuddered, for just at her husband’s feet stood Lauré, and she felt that she dare not tell the secret that seemed to be driving her mad.
“Here you goes right under the schooner, and must have hitched the chube in the ladder; that’s what you must have done.”
“There, it’s of no use to argue with you, Rasp,” said Dutch. “I’m all right again now, thank you, doctor; but I’m sure of one thing: the supply of air was stopped somehow, and I’ve had a bit of a shaking.”
“And I’m sure it just wasn’t,” growled Rasp. “Everything went just as it should go. There!”
Dutch rose without assistance, and as he did so Hester, with a sigh of misery, shrank away, feeling that she could never look upon his face again.
“But I have saved his life,” she sighed to herself. “I have saved his life;” and then, shuddering with horror, and asking herself whether the time had not come when she had better die, she crept slowly to the cabin stairs, descended, and, sinking into a chair by her cot, sat there and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Dutch smiled with pleasure as he stood up and found that he could take a few steps here and there without feeling his brain reel, for Oakum took off his old straw hat, waved it round his head, and the men gave a hearty cheer.
“It weer too bad o’ you though to stop his wind Rasp, owd mate,” growled Oakum, in the old diver’s ear.
Rasp looked daggers at him, and then proceeded to wipe and polish the helmet, from which he had been removing some grains of sand.
“Have a cigar, Mr Pugh,” said Wilson, holding out his case, and then shaking hands, an example followed by Mr Parkley, the captain, and John Studwick, who stood looking at him with admiration.
“I have done nothing but shake your hands for the last ten minutes, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor, warmly, “but we may as well shake hands again, though really our old friend Rasp here, with his rough-and-ready means, was principal attendant.”
“Humph!” growled Rasp, “I do get the credit for that, then. Stopped the wind, indeed! Here, you nigger, just leave that pump alone.”
This last to ’Pollo, who was curiously inspecting the machine, and who strutted off with his opal eyes rolling and his teeth grinning indignation at being called a nigger.
“Well, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, who so far had been able to restrain his impatience, but who longed to hear the result of the investigation, “I must congratulate you on your brave encounter with the shark.”
“And wanted me to haul you up,” growled Rasp.
“There was not much bravery in it,” said Dutch, who was now smoking as composedly as if nothing had occurred, while the water that had streamed from his india-rubber suit was fast drying on the sun-baked deck. “I was well-armed; my enemy was not.”
“Wasn’t he?” growled Rasp, giving a vicious rub at the helmet. “What do you call them teeth? But, then, we divers are not skeered about a shark or two.”
“Do you feel well enough to talk about your descent, Pugh?” said Mr Parkley.
“I feel well enough to go down again,” said Dutch smiling; “but this time I must have a sharp-pointed iron rod to probe the sand.”
“I’m a-going down next,” said Rasp. “It’s my turn.”
“But what is your opinion? What have you made out?” said Mr Parkley.
“Almost nothing,” replied Dutch. “If there is anything below there, it is buried deep in sand, which, I think, we must blast away, for it runs back as fast as it is dug.”
“Then you found absolutely nothing,” said Mr Parkley, while the others waited eagerly for the young man’s answer.
“Unless this proves to be something,” replied Dutch, taking the shelly mass from his net basket and handing it to his partner.
Mr Parkley received it with trembling hands.
“It is heavy,” he said, turning it over and over. “Here Rasp, a hammer, quick.”
The old fellow handed a bright steel-headed tool, with the ordinary hammer head on one side, but a sharp wedge-shaped edge at the other, and with this Mr Parkley chipped away the small barnacles and other shells conglomerated together, and at about the fourth stroke laid bare something bright and shining.
“My dear Dutch,” cried his partner, dropping the hammer, “we are right. Look—silver!”
He wrung Dutch’s hand vigorously, as the young man’s face flushed with pleasure; and then, picking up the hammer, he struck off the remainder of the shelly concretion, and passed round a blackened wedge-shaped ingot of about a couple of pounds weight, and undoubtedly of fine silver.
“Here, lay hold of the legs of this soot,” cried Rasp eagerly, as he seized the second suit which lay ready on a seat. “I’m a-going down dreckly.”
“We’d better wait first, and make some definite plan of action,” said Mr Parkley, who was nearly as excited as his old assistant.
“No, we hadn’t,” said Rasp, shuffling into the india-rubber garments. “Only just have that there ladder shifted over to port. You can make your plans while I go down tother side and feels about with the iron rod. You two’s administrative; I’m zeketive. I shan’t be happy unless I has a go in.”
The point was yielded, the ladder shifted over to the other side, and in a few minutes Rasp had taken the keen knife and stuck it in his belt, thrown down a long iron rod, and declared himself ready.
“I shall set to work where you left that there spade,” he said. “You’ll see as the wind ain’t stopped, Mr Parkley, sir?”
“Of course,” was the reply.
“And you’ll see as the chube ain’t in no kinks, Mr Pug;” he continued, with a dry chuckling laugh, “and so will I.”
“You may laugh, Rasp,” said Dutch, good-humouredly, “but you will not alter my opinion about it at all.”
“I know that, Mr Pug; I know that,” he chuckled.
“But you haven’t got the life-line attached.”
“Yah! I don’t want no life-lines,” said the old fellow. “I’ve been down too many times.”
“You don’t go down without, Rasp,” said Mr Parkley, authoritatively.
“And why not?” said the stubborn old fellow.
“Because if you like to throw your life away, I don’t choose to spare you at such a time.”
The old fellow assumed his helmet, growling and grumbling the whole time, and then, all being ready, the look-out was arranged once more for sharks, Mr Parkley held a cartridge or two ready, and Dutch took the management of the descent, watchfully minding that the tube and lines were clear. Then Rasp went down, to be seen directly after thrusting the rod here and there, and soon after commencing digging in the slow, laborious way inevitable in so dense a medium.
The water was disturbed by the continuous fountain of exhausted air bubbles that rose rapidly to the surface, but all the same Rasp’s motions could be pretty well followed, and they were scanned with great eagerness by all on deck, when suddenly the cry of sharks was raised, and the black fins of a couple of monsters were seen slowly coming up astern.
In an instant Mr Parkley ran aft, and after seeing that his wire coil would be perfectly free, he threw the cartridge with such precision that it fell between the two fish, and on the wire being applied to the battery, there was a dull report, a heavy column of water flew up in which could be seen the forms of the sharks, and as the commotion subsided they were seen swimming feebly in a stunned, helpless manner round and round, and gradually getting more distant from the schooner.
The men gave a cheer at the result, but as they did so Mr Wilson raised the cry again of “shark,” and pointed downwards where a monster was seen slowly approaching Rasp, who was working away in profound ignorance of his danger, though he had been seen to straighten himself up for a moment or two when the cartridges were exploded.
“Stand ready with the life-line,” shouted Dutch. “Keep on pumping, my lads.”
As he spoke he signalled with the cord, and Rasp faced round, to be seen to squat down directly as he drew his knife.
The scene below was very vivid, for the sun shone out so brightly that even the rivets in the copper helmet were visible, and but for a word or two of warning those whose duty it was to attend to life-line and pump would have stopped short to try and catch a glance at what was going on below.
Dutch’s stern voice brought them back to their duty, and the pump clanked, and those who held the life-line stood ready for a run forward to drag Rasp up if there was any need.
“Why,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly, “he is not ready for the monster, and it is sailing round him. I dare not send down a cartridge, as the brute will not be the only sufferer. Look, look, for heaven’s sake, Dutch! It has seized him.”
Plainly enough to be seen, as Mr Parkley spoke, the shark gave its tail a wave, turned over so that its white breast was like a flash of light in the water, and opening its large jaws it seemed to seize the diver.
At the same moment there was a tug at the signal-cord, and a sharp tug at the life-line, for Dutch gave the word, and Rasp was dragged rapidly to the surface, the shark following, and making a fresh snap at him as he was hoisted on deck.
The second snap divided the tube, which the monster caught across his jaws, but no sooner was Rasp in safety than Mr Parkley threw one of his cartridges at the shark, where it swam now round and round, with only its back fin above the water.
In an instant the creature turned on one side, and the white cartridge was seen to disappear. Then followed a touch of the wire against the hissing battery, there was a deafening report, and the schooner heaved a little over on one side, and the surface of the placid sea was covered with blood-stained fragments which were seized and borne off by a shoal of silvery-looking fish, which seemed attracted to the spot in thousands.
“What did you pull me up for?” roared Rasp, as soon as he was relieved of his helmet.
“To save your life,” was the reply.
“It’s shabby, that’s what it is,” said Rasp angrily. “No one interfered with you, Mr Dutch, when you had your turn.”
“But you signalled to be pulled up.”
“That I didn’t,” growled the old fellow. “It was that brute bit at my helmet. Has he made any marks?”
“Yes,” said Mr Parkley, lifting up the bright copper headpiece, and examining the couple of curves of sharply defined scratches which had been made by the monster’s teeth.
“Then you should have left me alone,” growled Rasp. “I should have killed that chap if I could have got my knife out of the sheath.”
“And could you not?” said Dutch.
“No. It’s a sticking fast in the sheath there, and—. Who’s took it out?” he growled, feeling his side. “Why, I must ha’ dropped it.”
The bright blade could be seen lying below, and Rasp stood grumbling and wondering how it could have happened, ending with whispering to Dutch.
“I ain’t afeard on the beggars, but don’t let out as I was took aback. I worn’t ready, you know; that’s how it was.”
Dutch nodded assent, and the subject dropped, for Rasp pulled a couple of large and two small lumps of shelly matter from his pocket, the weight of which instantly told Mr Parkley that they were ingots in the same condition as the first.
There was no doubt now about the treasure having been found, and the question discussed was whether it would be better to try and get rid of the sand by blasting, or try the slower and more laborious plan of digging it away.
This last was decided on, especially as, by blasting away the sand, the silver ingots to a great extent might be cast away with the covering. Besides which, the position of the schooner was so satisfactory that the captain was averse to its being moved, and wished, if possible, to retain it where it was. Tackle was rigged up, then, with iron buckets attached to ropes, and the afternoon was spent by Dutch and Rasp in turn in filling the buckets, which were then drawn up by the sailors and emptied beyond the ribs of the old galleon.
The filling of the buckets resulted in the discovery of many ingots, which were placed aside, and at last, after several descents, a portion of the treasure was reached, and instead of sending up sand, the buckets were filled with silver and the rough shelly concrete, though every ingot as they worked lower was more free from the adhesion, till the lower ones were almost literally blackened silver covered with sand.
Worn out with fatigue the task was at last set aside for the day, and in honour of their great success, ’Pollo’s best endeavours had been called into question to prepare what was quite a banquet, during which Mr Parkley was congratulated by his friends in turn, and afterwards, when seated in the comparative cool of the evening, the question was discussed as to there being any risk attending their proceedings.
“I don’t suppose we are right from some points of view,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “But let’s secure all the treasure, and we’ll talk about that afterwards. We shall give you a rich cargo, Studwick.”
“I hope so,” was the reply, “but you’ll have to go on for many days at this rate before I am overloaded.”
“Wait a bit, eh, Dutch Pugh. I think we shall astonish him yet. Come, a glass of champagne, man. You are low with your accident. What are you dreaming about?”
“I was wondering,” said Dutch, quietly, “whether we ought not to take more precautions.”
“What about? Indians ashore?”
“No; sailors afloat.”
“Quite right,” said the captain.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Dutch, “that we must not excite the cupidity of these men by letting them see too much of the treasure, or mischief may follow. There are several fellows here whose looks I don’t like.”
“Don’t invent bugbears, Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “We can take care of what we find, for we have plenty of arms, and I doubt very much whether the men would risk their necks by entering into anything in the shape of a mutiny. What do you say to that, eh, Studwick? Am I not right?”
“I don’t know what to say,” replied the captain. “I must confess now that I had my misgivings about some of the men at the commencement of the voyage, and, though I have seen nothing to make me suspicious, the fact of having a large freight of silver on board with such a crew as we have does not tend to make me feel quite at ease.”
“But you have not your large freight of silver on board yet,” said the doctor smiling.
“No, by jove,” exclaimed Mr Studwick; “but if they go on piling up the ingots at the rate they have been this afternoon, we shall soon have a temptation strong enough to incite a set of scoundrels to cut all our throats.”
Dutch started and shuddered.
“Come, come, gentlemen,” cried Mr Parkley, “suppose we stop all this dismal quaking. Here we have so far succeeded in our quest, and the trip bids fair to be all that can be desired, whereupon you set to inventing troubles. Come, I’ll give you a toast. Here, ‘Home, sweet home!’”
“Home, sweet home!” said the others in chorus, as they drained their glasses, saving Dutch, who sat moodily thinking. For these words had recalled happy days that were past. There was no happy home for him, and it seemed as if a wandering life would be the happiest that he could now look forward to in the future.
At last, being weary with their exertions, the watch was set and they went below, the doctor sternly forbidding any one from lying down to sleep on the deck,—a most tempting place in the heat; and no sooner had the captain taken a look round than a couple of dark figures crept stealthily from under the tarpaulin that covered a boat, and were joined by another, who cautiously came forward to join them from the forecastle hatch, the three getting together under the dark shelter of the bulwarks, where earnest conversation was carried on in a whisper.
About half-an-hour later another dark figure crept out upon the deck, and stood listening for a few moments before going down on hands and knees, and then apparently flat upon the deck, to worm its way towards where a faint light shone up from the cabin, and gaze cautiously down through the skylight as far as it could for the wire protection spread over the glass.
Apparently satisfied, the figure crept forward again, and made for the hatch leading down to the berths occupied by Mr Jones, the doctor, the naturalist, Rasp, and where Sam Oakum also turned in.
Now, it so happened that the latter gentleman was enjoying a strange nightmare, in which it seemed to him that Rasp had, out of spite, forced him into one of the diving suits, made him go to the bottom of the sea, and had then suddenly cut off the supply of air. He fought, he struggled, he grunted, he made every effort he could to breathe, but all in vain, and in the horror of the suffocating sensation he awoke to find that a hand was pressed heavily upon his mouth, while another seemed busy at his breast.