The life-line and the air-tube slowly paid out, and the bubbles sparkled up intermittently from the hatch. Henninger remained in the hold for about ten minutes, when his grotesque form emerged like a strange sea-monster, and he crawled up the slanted deck again, and came above the water. Sitting on the broken rail of the steamer, he shouted to them, but his voice came inarticulately through the helmet, and, seeing his failure, he gesticulated at the derrick.
“He wants us to lower the grapples,” exclaimed Elliott. He ran to the crank and touched it, looking at Henninger, and the helmet nodded affirmatively.
With the assistance of a couple of the crew, the beam was swung round over the wreck, and the grappling-hooks lowered. Henninger caught them as soon as they were within reach, and he descended once more into the hold, carrying the irons with him. He was out of sight for a longer period this time, but he reappeared at last, and clambered with difficulty aboard the dhow.
“Hoist away,” he said, as soon as the helmet was unscrewed. “I’ve got one hooked.” His face was much flushed, and he rubbed his eyes dizzily.
“What did you find?” queried Hawke, with excitement.
“All the freight is piled in a heap, higgledy-piggledy, and it’s pretty dark down there. I made out the cases we want, though, or at least some of them. I had forgotten that it’s so easy to lift weights under water. I heaved those crates and hogsheads around like a dime museum strong man. The irons are hooked on one of them. Let’s get it up.”
At the word the Arabs at the crank began to revolve the handles. The long spar rose, and an iron-bound, wooden packing-case, about three feet in diameter, appeared at the hatch, and swung dripping out of the water. The dhow heeled slightly at its weight.
“Inboard,” commanded Henninger, and the reis translated the order. The beam was swung around till the case hung directly over the after hatchway of the dhow, and, being lowered, it descended accurately out of sight.
Every one rushed down the ladder to look at it as it lay in the centre of a widening pool on the planking, with the grapples still fast. But there was nothing to see; the markings on the box had been almost obliterated by water, though the false stencil could still be made out. On the other side letters had been painted with a black brush, presumably the forwarding directions, but nothing could be made of them. Hawke went out and returned with an axe, but Henninger checked him.
“Why, aren’t you going to open it?” said Hawke, staring.