"Then that is how Traynor died?" I whispered, coming hastily to the conclusion. "Some one placed the wrong salt in there—took out oxygen, added nitrogen, instead of removing carbon dioxide?"
Norma had turned toward us. It was too early for Kennedy to accuse anybody, whatever might be his suspicions. He could not yet come from under cover. "I think so," was all he replied.
A moment later the group joined us. "No one has been down on the wreck yet?" inquired Craig, at which Everson turned quickly to the three companions he had left in charge, himself anxious to know.
"No," replied Kinsale before any one else could answer. "Mr. Dominick thought we'd better wait until you came back."
"Then I should like to be the first," cut in Craig, to my utter surprise. Remonstrance had no effect with him. Neither Norma nor Asta could dissuade him. As for the rest of us, our objections seemed rather to confirm him in his purpose.
Accordingly, in spite of the danger, which now no one no more than he knew, all the preparations were made for the first dive. With the aid of Kinsale, whom I watched closely, though no more so than Craig, he donned the heavy suit of rubberized reinforced canvas, had the leads placed on his feet and finally was fitted with the metal head and the "bib"—the whole weighing hardly short of three hundred pounds. It was with serious misgiving that I saw him go over the side of the trawler and shoot down into the water with its dark mystery and tragedy.
The moments that he was down seemed interminable. Suspiciously I watched every move that the men made, fearful that they might do something. I longed for the technical knowledge that would have enabled me to handle the apparatus. I tried to quiet my fears by reasoning that Craig must have had perfect confidence in the value of his discovery if he were willing to risk his life on it, yet I felt that at least a show of vigilance on my part might bluff any one off from an attempt to tamper again with the air-supply. I stuck about closely.
Yet, when there came a hasty signal on the indicator from below, although I felt that he had been down for ages, I knew that it had been only a very short time. Could it be a signal of trouble? Had some one again tampered with the apparatus?
Would they never bring him up? It seemed as if they were working fearfully slow. I remembered how quickly he had shot down. What had seemed then only a matter of seconds and minutes now seemed hours. It was only by sheer will power that I restrained myself as I realized that going under the air pressure might be done safely quite fast, that he must come out slowly, by stages, that over the telephone that connected with his helmet he was directing the decompression in accordance with the latest knowledge that medical science had derived of how to avoid the dread caisson disease.
I don't know when I have felt more relief than I did at seeing his weird headgear appear at the surface. The danger from the "bends" might not be entirely over yet, but at least it was Craig himself, safe, at last.