Mart could still hear the pump-strokes going, however, and the air he breathed was fresh and pure. He thought of Bob, pumping with one hand and hauling up with the other, and at the same instant he thought of the four mutineers ashore. What if they had seen the whole affair and were to come out in their boat and recapture the ship?
At the very thought he felt the perspiration stand out as he gazed dully at the swaying figure of Jerry which was slowly vanishing above him. However, there was no use speculating, he considered. Little by little the form of Jerry merged into the flickering lights and shadows overhead; staring up, he could perceive the darker shade of the yacht directly above him.
"Well, I might's well take a look at the treasure!" he thought suddenly, and with that turned to the wreck. Cautiously making his way into the V-shaped opening where the rotted ship had fallen apart, he perceived that her outlines were gradually taking shape to his eyes.
She was lying directly on her side, the decks rising straight up from the rock bottom. Ahead and behind him there were projections from her decks, no doubt the forecastle and high poop of other days. She seemed to be split well asunder, for the opening was a good five feet across, and without hesitation Mart advanced into it.
As he did so, he paused, in wild apprehension. The pump-strokes had ceased! Then he grinned, with a sigh of relief; of course Bob would have had to quit work in order to get the body of Jerry over the landing, and unscrew his helmet so that air might reach him. When the pump-strokes began again, he could go up.
Mart glanced around curiously. The hold of the ancient ship was dark, and he could see nothing, for the light down here was dim, rendering all things distorted and indistinct; this his thick glass-plates did not tend to help, but a moment later he became aware of something like a box that protruded on his right, and remembered what Jerry had said about a chest of treasure being in sight.
He had sheathed his knife while sending the quartermaster up, and now he drew it and shoved the blade against the box. It seemed of great weight, for even in the water it did not move under the shock. Then he kicked it with his heavy boot, and saw it shake and shatter. The wood must be pretty rotten, he reflected, and with that he kicked it again.
"Well, I'll be switched!" he gasped, starting back. Not only had the box gone to pieces, but pouring out from its shattered corner came a stream of gold coins! That they were gold he did not doubt for a moment; even in the semi-darkness they gleamed and shone ruddy yellow, pouring out and out until they covered even the high soles of his diving boots.
"Thunder! I've struck it!"
For a moment he stared down, unable to move. Then he felt a little wave of pure air sweep around his face and heard the pumps begin to click again up above; until then he had not realized that his air was becoming vitiated. But he paid no attention to anything but the stream of yellow coins that were settling down over his feet, and neglected the fact that now he could ascend.