After I had gone into my little sleeping-place and put on dry clothing, we sat down, and I had to describe minutely what I had seen. We then went into general committee to discuss ways and means for getting at the cargo of the sunken hull. Mr. Millward was for setting sail at the first favorable wind for Martinique to get divers and return with them. But I could not bring myself to agree to leaving the galleon to chance for so long a time as that might require. We had already successfully overcome so many difficulties that those remaining seemed trifling in comparison; though I am free to confess that just how we were to get at the contents of the hull was not at all clear to my mind at that time.
We had discussed the situation a long time, and as I had nothing to offer but mere resistance and unwillingness to leave, I felt that the old gentleman was gradually getting the better of the discussion, and had fairly driven me to the last ditch, when Alice came to my assistance with a suggestion that supplied a new stock of ammunition to my retreating forces.
The dear girl’s suggestion was in these words, “Why don’t you pump the water out of the basin and leave the galleon dry?”
Why, indeed? What was to hinder? It would be difficult to make an air-pump, but not at all difficult to contrive some sort of water-raising device.
“Thanks, fair Alice, for the idea. It rehabilitates me,” thought I; and meeting her eyes I added aloud, “You have hit upon the very idea, Miss Alice. We can get the water out of that basin with far less trouble than a voyage to Martinique and return would cost.”
The old man was silent.
Turning to him I said, “Your daughter deserves our warmest thanks, Mr. Millward, for this suggestion. Now we have only to contrive some water-lifting device, and we can set to work on the final task. What do you say?”
“I say that if it is feasible I will stay of course.”
We discussed all the water-raising contrivances we had ever heard of, from the primitive Egyptian shadoof—a bucket on a balanced pole—to the rotary steam-pump. But steam-pumps were not to be had, and it was aggravating to think about them. However, I went conscientiously through the entire list, and was listened to most patiently. It chanced that among other devices there was one I had heard of as being used in India by the natives to raise water for irrigation. It consisted of a wheel to which were suspended a number of gourds. Mr. Millward at once remembered seeing these very machines in use, and told how he had witnessed the breech-clouted coolies toiling with them on the banks of the rivers. He immediately agreed that we could easily build such a machine, and that it would accomplish the work.
“The amount of water raised in a day from the river with one of these rude machines and poured into the irrigating canal by the efforts of a single native workman is truly astonishing,” said he. After thinking a moment he added, “But you overlook one thing, Mr. Morgan. These machines are only adapted to lifting water from a river or other source of supply which remains at or near a constant level. Now, here the water to be lifted will be getting constantly lower, and as it falls the wheel also must be lowered and would soon be so low that it would no longer bring the gourds high enough to discharge their contents above the breakwater. You see that, do you not?”